7th March 2024

Saturday the 17th was a rare dry day, and the family made the most of it by keeping busy and getting out and about:

Jamie, Ruth, and Joey flew out to the Swiss/French border for a week of snowboarding, having first dropped off their two rabbits in our greenhouse en route to Gatwick Airport. Ellis went shopping and used his Christmas and birthday money to fully kit himself out with paintball gear. Charlotte spent the day making batches of pesto and garlic butter. Sarah and her family enjoyed a trip to the skate park and zoo. I attended a pre-match rugby luncheon at Harborough RUFC, the first time in over a year. Unfortunately, both the meal and the match proved disappointing: the club lost a fiercely contested derby against Lutterworth, and the usually excellent carvery was replaced by a watery beef bourguignon, where the meat on my plate appeared to have been substituted with button mushrooms. Meanwhile, Sue visited our family friend Doreen for coffee, cake, and a couple of games of Rummikub. Still new to the game, she lost both rounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the 20th, Sarah, Alice, Archie and Mia came to visit. They arrived late in the morning at Willow Bank after Archie had his one-year inoculations:

1.  MenB meningococcal group B booster

2.  Hib/MenC immunisation against Haemophilus influenzae type b (Hib), meningococcal group C disease (MenC)

3.  PCV13 pneumococcal conjugate vaccine booster

4.  First MMR immunisation against measles, mumps, rubella

Despite having been jabbed four times, he was surprisingly chirpy and showed no signs of a reaction. Now much steadier on his feet, he toddled around the lounge, exploring everything that caught his attention. Sue kept Alice entertained with a chocolate treat hunt, then brought out colouring pens and paper to amuse her. When they arrived, I was pruning the fruit trees in the rear garden, a task I had started the day before, and I finished it before joining the family.

We had lunch in the lounge before walking to Welland Park to let Alice and Archie scoot around the skate park, then play in the sandpit and on the swings. Afterwards, we returned to Willow Bank for drinks, before Sarah and the children left to visit Charlotte.

Due to global warming, the snow line in the Alps is unusually high, but Jamie and his family have spectacular views as they enjoy themselves on the pistes. They returned late on Saturday and collected their rabbits, who had survived several frosty nights in the greenhouse, leaving us a pack of caviar as a thank-you.  [wpvideo XJeuSJeo]

Over the weekend, Sarah manned a stall at the nearby Bagshot village hall, selling the plaster of Paris models she has made, which are very popular with children for painting.

For the first time in quite a while, I met John Lee in the car park of The Horse and Jockey pub in Manton, Rutland, for a 6.5-mile walk. The weather forecast promised a bright but chilly day, yet, typical of this year, we found ourselves walking the first half mile in a shower! The route was chosen for its elevation and gravel paths, helping us avoid the muddy bogs that now dominate much of this deluged country, masquerading as farmers’ fields. We caught up on plenty of family news, alongside the usual lengthy discussion about the woes of the England rugby team. We passed through countryside steeped in history, though for once we barely spared its features a glance as we set about putting the world’s wrongs to rights. After the five-mile mark, my foot started to ache badly, so I was quite relieved when we returned to the pub and ordered lunch: steak and ale pie for me, and fish pie for John.

On the 27th, following my Fiesta’s successful MOT the previous week, Sue’s Mini Clubman also passed its annual test with flying colours. That morning, with her Mini in the garage and Sue attending an Architecture U3A lecture on Petra and Machu Picchu, Charlotte phoned. After returning from taking Lucas to school, and with Ellis feeling poorly in bed and needing a doctor’s appointment, she discovered her car had a flat tyre. Instead of a spare tyre in the boot, there was a pressurised can of sealant, the replacement many manufacturers now provide. Suraj was at work, so she sought some advice. With the AA called, the rogue tyre was temporarily patched, and Ellis was taken to his appointment by a kind neighbour; the crisis was soon over.

March began showery and cold. On the 1st, between showers, I ventured out to prune the grapevines. Dressed in stormproof gear to stay dry, I soon had to discard the top layer as the weather witches played their games, clearing the sky of wet grey clouds and leaving me sweltering in thermal wear beneath warm sunshine. Just as I finished, the first drops of a heavy downpour splashed against the denuded stumps, sending me hastily to the car for shelter and then home.

The 2nd dawned dry with a frost and a forecast of yet more rain. The predicted precipitation failed to appear pre-launch, so, taking a gamble, I planted a row of broad beans and two rows of onion sets (red and white). As before, just as I pushed the last set into the soil, the first drops began to fall. The rest of the day was spent watching the rain trickle down the house windows.

Bright sunshine and a promise of a dry day greeted us on the 3rd. Already packed, we set off travelling north to the Lake District to visit David and Genya. To break the lengthy journey, we had booked accommodation at the 17th-century Ye Olde Fighting Cock in Arnside. The historic villages of Arnside and Silverdale sit snugly on the coastline of Morecambe Bay, within an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, thanks to its rich diversity of habitats and wildlife. The quaint village of Arnside boasts a pretty Victorian parade of shops along its promenade and enjoys spectacular sunsets over the Bay. There are plenty of easy walks in the surrounding woodland, and we planned to follow the path up to Arnside Knott to enjoy the panoramic sea views.

The three-and-a-half-hour journey up the M6 went surprisingly well. Usually, any journey along this very busy motorway is fraught with bumper-to-bumper tension, but on this early March Sunday, traffic was light. North of Lancaster, we left the motorway and wound our way through the narrow lanes of Cumbria, surrounded by a stunning landscape that tempted me to quickly glance away from the potholed tarmac as Sue oohed and aahed at snow-capped mountains and glistening tarns and lakes.

We arrived at the pub just after noon and were pleasantly surprised to learn our room was ready for check-in. With gorgeous views of the Bay and its 505-metre-long viaduct, built in 1857 to carry the railway line over the River Kent, the backdrop of mountains marched majestically to Helvellyn and its neighbouring peaks, many dusted with sugar frosting against a striking, cloudless sky: a photographer’s dream. After devouring salmon baps and a packet of crisps washed down with a thermos of coffee, we left our room to tackle Arnside Knott and its viewpoint.

Our path first took us along the promenade, dipping into the line of Victorian shops and cafés before treading along the sandy shore of the bay towards New Barns. A very chilly breeze blew in our faces as we debated the merits of living along this picturesque stretch of coast, exchanging pleasantries with the many dog walkers we passed. Turning away from the sandy estuary, at low tide, we began our ascent to Arnside Knott. It was hard going. Now, in the lee of the hill and sheltered among trees, the icy draft was tamed, and the warmth of the sun could finally be felt. Soon, top layers were discarded, and stops for a breather on conveniently placed benches were most welcome.

The promised views from the Knott did not disappoint; we had chosen a fine day to see it in all its splendour. From Grange-over-Sands along the River Kent, sliced by the viaduct, to the now defunct port of Milnthorpe, the landscape lay below us. We were not alone, it was the place to be to take in the beauty of the area, like us; couples, families and dog walkers were all enjoying the views.

Our way down was less exhausting and took us through the small town, back to our room at Ye Olde Fighting Cock for a much-needed feet-up and a cup of coffee.

We enjoyed an excellent evening meal in the hotel restaurant while watching the much-publicised ‘spectacular sunset’, with brightly lit trains making their surreal way across the darkened, nearly invisible viaduct. After dessert, feeling the chill of a coming frost as we crossed the courtyard, we retired to the warmth and comfort of our room for an evening of TV.

It was my birthday today. During our Lakeland breakfast, we heard that the previous night there had been a spectacular Northern Lights display across parts of the UK. The hotel owner and several of his staff had driven to nearby Silverdale to see it and were full of enthusiasm, describing it as a wonderful sight, as impressive as any fireworks display. We, unfortunately, had slept through it.

Under a blue sky, we took a short walk along a frosty hotel foreshore before checking out of our accommodation, packing the car and setting off to Holmrook. We were going to visit David, Genya and their dog Banjo. Our Tomtom-suggested route went awry when we came across a ‘Road Ahead Blocked’ sign and chose to gamble and ignore it. Seven miles or so, over narrow twisting mountain roads, with just grass-nibbling sheep for company and spectacular views all around, we were stopped by two large concrete blocks protecting a washed-out section of road. Frustratingly, we had long since begun our descent from the heights, and the coast road leading to our destination could be seen less than a mile away. Retracing our journey, we drove around the peninsula to the point at which we would have joined the coast road, half an hour earlier!

Arriving in Drigg, we decided to have coffee in the small station café and browse the adjoining gift shop. It was around 12.30 p.m. before we made our way the short distance to David and Genya’s home in the former local bank, converted into a house decades ago. It is very much a restoration project and quite a substantial property. After a quick tour, we sat, chatted, and drank more coffee while David waited for a delivery of plaster in preparation for the next stage of the renovation.

With the plaster safely stored away, we drove into Eskdale to take Banjo for a much-needed walk. Our destination was Stanley Ghyll and Dalegarth Falls. The half-hour journey along a small cart track to a pair of renovated farm cottages, where we left the cars, was very pleasant, though at times rather hair-raising. The walking was easy along well-used paths, with frequent narrow and shallow streams crossing the route, posing no obstacle to our hiking boots. The distant snow-capped mountains added a scenic backdrop to our conversation as we made our way to the viewing platform that juts out over the Falls.

The Lake District is famous for its rainfall, and this year has been exceptional. However, we were not disappointed by the modest trickle of moisture slipping over a few parched rocks. A full Ghyll tumbled down its 60-foot length, thundering into the pool below and churning the water into a frothing white maelstrom before rushing madly down a narrow gully to eventually pour into the hidden River Esk somewhere down in the valley. Having taken photographs, we began to feel the chill of the afternoon and set off back to the cars.

We left David, Genya, and Banjo to continue their journey home as they passed our accommodation for the next two days, the Bower House Inn, a charming coaching inn dating back to 1751.

After checking in, we changed for the evening meal and made our way to the Inn’s restaurant for 6 p.m. The establishment enjoys a strong local reputation for its food, and soon the bar and tables were filled with locals, hikers, and tourists eager to sample the delights of the menu. With our appetites satisfied, we retired to our room to watch TV for the remainder of the evening.

Breakfast was served at 8 a.m., and shortly after, we rang David to arrange another ramble. However, reception was poor here, and by 10 a.m., having received no response, we decided to drive to Giggle Alley and walk on our own. It was as we parked, where the signal was stronger, that David called, and we arranged to meet up after our walk. Giggle Alley is tucked away in a beautiful patch of woodland in Eskdale and features a small but perfectly formed Japanese garden. The promise is that you enter via a set of atmospheric moss-covered stone steps and emerge from the native forest into a little corner of Asia. As luck would have it, my GPS failed to display its OS map, so we set off along the signposted trail relying on memory.

 

 

 

 

 

It was another beautiful, clear, sunny morning, though a persistent chilly breeze reminded us that it was still late winter. Our chosen route involved fairly easy scrambling up to the summit of Low Holme, where we were rewarded with superb views over Eskdale Green and down the length of Eskdale itself. Without the aid of my GPS, we had to guess which of the many tracks to follow, so it came as no surprise that we ended up descending on a path that brought us back to Eskdale Green earlier than planned. We realised our premature exit from the route when I checked the GPS and discovered it had started working again while we were on top of the Fell. Very frustrating. Nevertheless, we enjoyed the views and the exercise and were back at our hotel in time for a coffee before David, Genya, and Banjo arrived early that afternoon.

The plan was to visit the Roman Fort at Hardknott Pass, one of the most remote and dramatically sited Roman forts in Britain. The fort commanded the Eskdale Valley and the Roman road to Ravenglass. It was established early in the 2nd century AD. A fragmentary inscription, dating from the reign of Emperor Hadrian, identifies the garrison as the Fourth Cohort of Dalmatians, hailing from the Balkans. Not the most welcome or easy posting, I would imagine!

The extremely narrow road winding through Eskdale closely followed the River Esk and, frustratingly, displayed ‘Road Ahead Closed’ signs at regular intervals along its length. We once again took a chance, and this time it paid off, any blockage had to be beyond the summit of the pass and well past our intended destination. Apart from one lone walker at first, we had the site to ourselves until another adventurous couple arrived by car. What a bleak spot to build a fort; it must have been absolute hell living there in the depths of winter. Much of the site’s footprint remains clearly visible. Originally called Mediobogdum, it stands as a testament to the Romans’ determination to impose their will over the local population.

We scrambled among the ruins, reading the information boards as we came across them, and discussed what life might have been like for the soldiers garrisoned there in the 2nd century AD. Soon, our attention turned to the panorama as we tried to identify the surrounding features.

The return journey to the valley floor was just as ‘hairy’ as the ascent. We were grateful to whoever had placed the ‘Road Ahead Blocked’ signs right at the start of the Dale road, deterring most drivers who might otherwise attempt this very dangerous route to the fort. We met very few oncoming vehicles making the pass.

Taking full advantage of the excellent walking weather, we made our way down the dale to visit a small water mill close to the Boot Inn, situated on the Whillan Beck. From there, we followed the path to Dalegarth, home to Boot railway station, the last stop on the Ravenglass and Eskdale narrow-gauge line. Still feeling energetic despite a light drizzle in the air, we tramped across the valley floor to the River Esk, giving Banjo a bit more exercise. On our return to the cars, we paused to explore the pretty 12th-century St Catherine’s Church.

Feeling thirsty, we made our way back to the Boot Inn for refreshments and a lengthy chat before driving to the Bower House Hotel. Here, we sadly said our goodbyes to David and Genya, thanking them for their good company and the invaluable local knowledge that had led us to some great walks.

That evening, we dined again in the hotel restaurant before retiring to our room to watch TV.

The 6th of March dawned bright and sunny, and after another hearty breakfast at the hotel, we faced a two-hour drive to our next accommodation. By 9.30 a.m., we were on the road, barreling down the twisty lanes of Eskdale. Rarely shifting out of third gear due to numerous blind bends, the narrow road made for constant games of Russian roulette with oncoming traffic, who would pull over to let the other pass? Thankfully, nobody bit the bullet, though it got tense at times.

As the spectacular, craggy Lakeland scenery gave way to the softened hills of the foothills, we were able to pick up speed, only to be thwarted by a long dual carriageway section where the local council was pruning trees beside the road. This resulted in a traffic light-controlled stretch preceded by over a mile of queuing cars. Still, we arrived at the Ferraris Country Hotel just after midday.

Described as: “a Country House Wedding Hotel and Restaurant set amidst the peace and tranquillity of the beautiful Ribble Valley, a mile and a half outside the charming village of Longridge in Lancashire.” The family acquired Ferrari’s Country House Wedding Hotel and Restaurant in July 1995 and, in a short space of time, transformed it into one of the most popular and acclaimed wedding venues in the North West. Formerly known as Blackmoss House and built around 1830 by the Earl of Derby, the house was originally a shooting lodge and part of Derby Estates until the late 1970s. Set in four and a half acres of mature, award-winning walled gardens, the hotel and restaurant have recently undergone extensive refurbishment.

We had planned a short ramble from the hotel and, after changing into boots in the car park, set off on what turned out to be a pleasant but seldom-walked route. A highlight was coming across a field of ewes with their newborn lambs, bouncing and bleating eagerly around us to the consternation of their mothers. Although several fields were still squelchy from recent rains, no major diversions were necessary, and we completed the three-mile leg-stretcher in around an hour and a half.

The hotel gave us the largest room we’d stayed in on the trip, featuring a large double bed and a single as well. The en-suite included a spa bath, so while Sue rested her feet relaxing on the bed, I indulged in a hot, bubbly soak and felt absolutely wonderful for it! I did briefly consider getting one for Willow Bank, but eventually talked myself out of it on the grounds that they tend to be quite noisy.

 

 

 

 

 

Both feeling nicely chilled out by 6 p.m., we opted to have our evening meal in the hotel restaurant.

The next morning, after breakfast, we took a leisurely stroll around the lovely hotel gardens. Designed with wedding photos in mind, the grounds offered plenty of picturesque spots to showcase the bride and groom at their best. Shortly afterwards, we set off southward on the three-hour journey back to Willow Bank.

Despite the time of year, we had been very fortunate with the weather. Blue skies and snow-capped mountains provided the perfect backdrop to celebrate an early spring birthday.