Lake District - Here we come!
Because of a technical difficulty on Virgin’s behalf, we only had reserved seating on the train for part of our journey. The train station foyer was heaving with people trying desperately to get out of London for the long, bank holiday weekend.
As soon as the platform was announced, Tanya, who was our “Designated Runner” sprinted to the front of crowd, weaving her way through with her suitcase flailing behind her. She was headed to coach E - where you could sit without a reserved seat. Jenny and I were caught in the crowd of people who 'thought they were going the right way, then maybe, now they think about it, perhaps this isn't out train. Let's stop in the middle of everyone and get out tickets out again.'
Tanya threw bags and coats and even laid over four seats. The fourth seat was for the lovely Saskia who was joining us in Preston, about 3/4 the way to Windermere in the Lake district. (It was also Saskia, who is from 'The North', who told me that I'd been called it the LakeS District.... when really there is no S. There's a lesson for us all.) There were no seats left on the train and people were sitting on the floor. When we arrived in Preston, she was nowhere on the platform to be seen. Tanya quickly called her and she was sitting on another train - the one we were meant to change to at the next stop…. Suddenly the doors on our train closed and we started to pull away from the station. “Oh well”, we thought, we’ll see her at the next station.
Meanwhile 3-4 coaches back, Saskia was pushing her way through knocking people flying with her suitcase to get to Coach E. She had jumped off one train and on to the other just in time.
It was a lovely journey the rest of the way to Windermere, green fields covered in little yellow flowers and lush, rolling hills, cows and sheep everywhere you looked and quaint, little farm houses.
So lovely, in fact, that Jenny and I were reminded of this 'novelty song' composed in 1943 by Milton Drake, Al Hoffman and Jerry Livingstone.
It was written after one of the writers, Milton's 4 year old daughter came home singing:
"Cowzy tweet and sowzy tweet and liddle sharksy doisters"
(Translated: Cows eat wheat and sows eat wheat and little sharks eat oysters.)
Anyway......
We arrived at our accommodation - Forrestside Lodge to the awaiting Pedro
Now, Pedro wanted desperately to be Spanish and live in Spain. He was a bit over familiar and wouldn't stop talking. He even talked at us about the 10 S's in Spain.
"You know, Sun, Sangria, Sea, Spain, Scantily clad ladies..... and a few more that we won't go into eh girls."
Ummm.....Ew!
It was a little bit like "The House That Jack Built". Funny corridors and steps here and there, but it was a beautiful building with a lovely shared lounge room and beautiful, lush green surrounding gardens.
Pedro explained - at length about how he always turns all the lights and the heater on to check that they're all working before guests arrive, that way, you see, he can fix them before rather than a guest having to ask him to do things.... So, our heater was on - full. It was cozy to start with, but the more time we spent in there, the hotter we became. Opening the window should have been easy, but looking at it, one side appeared to have been painted shut and the other looked like one you'd push out, but it had no handle, so we just couldn’t work out how to open them - cause we're clearly thickos!
We unplugged the heater when we headed out, but the overzealous lady at reception thought she'd turn it back on for us and when we returned, it was at about 40 degrees in there. Out of desperation we realised that the window was actually a sash and we only had to pull it up! All we could do was lay down fanning ourselves with anything we could find until it cooled down enough to actually sleep.
Another curious anomaly was our shower...
This was the control panel with the 6 step operation instructions! What happened to a hot tap and a cold tap? This system asks you to turn the bottom dial 1/3 of the way around and then wait 10-15 seconds, then turn it again and wait another 10-15 seconds, then (and this wasn't actually written on the instructions) you need to be prepared to be both frozen and scolded at the same time - if that is indeed possible. The water pressure. Let's talk briefly about the water pressure - we have to be brief, cause there was none to speak of.
One of the best things about Forrestside Lodge was Liam. He served the breakfast and organised afternoon tea and hung around whilst we had nightcaps after dinner. He did everything and nothing was too much trouble.
He'd only been working there for a month and was still obviously trying to get a grasp on the availability of things... When we asked what teas were available, he proudly announced that they had ALL the teas.
Jenny: Do you have English Breakfast?
Liam: (looking like he didn't know what she meant) Umm, no
Saskia: What about Earl Grey?
Liam: (looking more confused) Umm, is that Tetley? We have all the fruit ones.
Us: 4 Tetley's thanks Liam.
Two of our ladies hadn't arrived yet as Trish was catching a later train and Katrina was driving from her place in Berkshire. Her journey would normal take about 3-4 hours, however on a bank holiday weekend it took her over 8 hours!!! We were having our pots of Tetleys wondering where Katrina was and deciding whether to go for a walk or wait or her when she rang and said very optimistically, "I'm near Manchester, so not far now..."
Saskia: "Oh no, she's still 2 hours away!"
With a bit of time on our hands we walked in Grasmere, the nearest village
which was very quaint and gorgeous.
And also home to the Sarah Nelson's Grasmere Gingerbread Shop!
Where the original ladies still work...
The shop used to be a school before education was compulsory. Apparently they had about 43 children who attended.
Right next door to the Gingerbread shop, was The Wordsworth Daffodil Garden
and the Wordsworth Graves
This is were William Wordsworth lived and was buried along with ALL his family. His wife, his children, his brother and sisters, some aunties and uncles.... the lot!
The grave stone on the left belongs to William, which surprisingly isn't very wordy, whereas the one on the right belongs to William's brother..... he obviously died before Will.
People were obviously little in olden day Grasmere..... and I'm not even as tall as I thought I was!
There is a lovely garden near the graveyard which had been sponsored by people from all over the world by purchasing a paver.
Out of the 100's we walked over, Jenny found this one. Mr George Elkins from Taralgon. Well done George.
The village streets are very tiny and if driving - care must be taken!
The people must be lovely here as these sorts of signs were all over the village. There were bowls of food and water outside a lot of the shops for doggy nibbles and they are allowed in the majority of shops and restaurants.
It's great!
It's great!
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