Saturday, August 7
David and Julia collected us rather early in the morning, and we set off, inauspiciously through rain and clouds, for the Lake District. The drive itself is beautiful, long before you get there, with the unique green of England spread out over rolling hills.
We stopped first in the village of Hawkshead. It's one of those places tourist books complain of being 'intolerably dolled-up', specializing in charm, and we loved it. It has the grey stone houses with flowers in windowboxes, and narrow, winding streets. There are numerous Beatrix Potter shops there , and all sorts of other charming shops.
Hawakshead is where Wordsworth grew up and went to school. The old schoolhouse is still open as a museum. It was founded in the 1500's by a letter patent from Queen Elizabeth. (Why a school needed to be chartered by the sovereign I have not yet discovered.) That letter is still on display, all in Latin.
You can also see where young William Wordsworth sat, because he carved his name into his desk. Boys back then wrote with quill pens, which had periodically to be sharpened with ones penknife. And as the guide says, combine boys, penknives, and wood, and what can you expect? The official policy of the school was neither to encourage nor prohibit carving up the desks.
Wordsworth would have started school at the age of 7 and have continued until he was 18. But that was six days a week, eleven hours a day.
The subjects were: mathematics, Greek, and Latin. Period. Period? Yes, because all the learned books were in Greek or Latin, so those were prerequisites. But with these tools, you could learn anything further you might like to, in future.
There was a shop selling lavender, so I sniffed it and liked it, and bought a bottle.
In the Hawkshead Relish Shop you can sample half a dozen relishes; they also sell jams and candies and other condiments. I bought a birthday gift for Katherine, my daughter-in-law. It's 'Kendal Mintcakes', mints from the town of Kendal. Her husband's and children's ancestors were originally from there. So I hope she enjoys the mints and keeps the labelled jar.
From Hawkshead, we progressed through Ambleside, another picturesque place, to the town of Windermere, on Lake Windermere. There we came to the Langdale Chase Hotel, where James once worked (Demetrios' godson, David and Julia's son). The hotel is gorgeous, and its view over the Lake to the distant hills beyond has been voted (by I do not know whom), the best view of all hotels in England. We enjoyed a scrumptious lunch in a conservatory-like room, in company with several other people , one Schnauzer and one Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Yes, well-behaved dogs are welcome in many English eateries.
As by now the weather had become glorious, and even above lukewarm, we also strolled through the lush gardens before continuing on our way.
The Lake District, I perceive, is best viewed on foot. Hiking is the best way to take in all the beauty through which we could only drive. Biking would be a good option, too, but bicycles are a nuisance on the roads, which in summer already tend to be clogged. (And strict regulations about maintaining the quaintness of the area keep roads from becoming highways.) The roads wind around lakes, between hills, over what looks to me like moors, but how would I know, through forested land and darling villages.
We ended in Eden, where there is a big estate called Eden Hall, where David used to shoot and fish. We had tea in the nearby pub and then, as it was already toward early evening, we headed home, having had a good slice of the Lake District, right through the heart of it in a way. There's much more to see, and another time I'd love to make a long weekend of it.
"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud"
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth
0 comments:
Post a Comment