Pigeon post...

The ubiquitous pigeon.  Not just in Trafalgar Square or the Museum Gardens but in every back yard. As we negotiate our clumsy ways along the pavements, the well-camouflaged pigeons watch and wait (these from the facade of the Catholic Cathedral in York)...

In Whitby, these brave pigeons were roosting impossibly on the sea wall, directly above a tumultuous sea  (click on the image to get a closer and better view)...

Pets and hens...

I like living in a place where the local butcher can call me 'pet' and it sounds neither condescending nor overly familiar.

My Aunt Christine also called me pet on the phone the other day and Sue's Scottish friend Christina said it is a particularly Glaswegian expression. It takes me straight back to childhood with the endearments 'my wee pet' and 'my wee hen' used by my Dad and (in writing because sadly I never met her) by my 'Nana in Scotland'.

'Rambling' again...

Another outing with the York Ramblers yesterday, this time between Harrogate and Ripon, starting and finishing at a little village called Markington (not so far from Fountains Abbey and Studley Royal). I continue to be amazed at the extent of public access in the UK. Our whole 4 hour 'ramble' was over farmland on recognised right-of-ways. So much more walking access here than is available in New Zealand...

Here we are at what I think was Farnley Grange - sixteenth century. I thought perhaps I could live over the entrance gateway...!!

Some of the outbuildings (could live here too)...

And an idea of the country we were walking through (though not usually on roads)...

I talked with a lady who had been a pest control officer and learnt more about moles!  One mole hill does not equal one mole. Average is about six moles to the acre. So each mole must be really earning his/her keep given the number of hills...

Campaign for Real Ale...

The other evening Richard invited me to a CAMRA presentation at the Lord Collingwood pub in Poppleton on the outskirts of York. CAMRA is concerned with preserving and promoting real ale and traditional English pub interiors (both of which appeal to me!). It was a warm, convivial evening with lots of local people gathering to support their pub of choice. And guess what - the first person I spoke to had done a 5-week tour of the South Island! You can find out more about CAMRA in York here http://www.yorkcamra.free-online.co.uk/

The following is taken from the above website and explains why the Lord Collingwood received its award.

The Country award went to the Lord Collingwood at Poppleton, a first time winner. Beer choice has expanded dramatically since Steve and Alice Massey took on this Marston’s pub two years ago. At the time it sold onlyBanks’s Bitter and one guest, but Steve makes good use of the considerable range on the brewery’s list and now there are up to seven ales at weekends. There is usually a choice of Jennings, Banks’s, Marston’s and Ringwood, supplemented by others such as Wychwood and Brakspear. It’s a lovely old pub in a Grade II listed building, on the edge of the attractive village green where a traditional Maypole celebration continues today. Outside in front is the church and a car park and at the rear an attractive beer garden, illuminated by fairy lights after dark, with patio and children’s play area. On Wednesday nights there is a well-supported general knowledge quiz with cash prizes. The food is good value, honest pub grub, including snacks, main courses and desserts. There’s no food on Mondays, otherwise lunch is available 12–2.30pm and dinner 6–9pm: features are curry nights on Thursday and grill nights on Tuesday. 

I was too busy (!) to take photos and also I am a bit reluctant to snap people without their agreement so these photos are lifted from a couple of websites...

Thoughts...

One of the things that I keep running up against in my Yorkshire travels and conversations is the shifting industrial landscape.  It began with my awareness of what was happening on Teeside with the closing of the steel works. Then in visiting Whitby and reading about Whitby history, I became aware of the multiple layers - fishing, boat building, alum production, jet jewellery manufacturing and so on - many or most of which have disappeared or dramatically declined. The visit to Saltaire gave me new insight into the scope of the 19th century textile industry and its demise. I expect the same story exists for mining and many of the other activities of the industrial revolution. All this I knew, intellectually, but this visit has made that knowledge more concrete. In a conversation last night in The Lord Collingwood Inn at Poppleton, Peter made the observation that generations of families had once worked in the same industry, but that such patterns had now largely been destroyed. I remarked that Britain feels primarily like a service country, the manufacturing having moved offshore. I suppose the same is true of New Zealand. While I don't want to sound nostalgic for an age that brought misery to millions, I can't help but feel some regret, especially knowing that the misery is simply being exported!

Saltaire

I had never heard of Saltaire. However, at Al's suggestion, I caught the train to Leeds and then on past Shipley to the village. Saltaire was/is 

a purpose-built 'model' Victorian industrial village, built by the Victorian philanthropist Sir Titus Salt, to provide self-contained living space for the workers at his woollen mills, a welcome alternative to the then "dark satanic mills" of Bradford and Leeds. More recently Salt's Mill has been converted by the late Jonathan Silver into shops and the "1853 Gallery" which houses a collection of the works of the famous artist, David Hockney (who was of course born in Bradford ).

In 2001 Saltaire was designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. This is why I felt surprised and rather ashamed at not having heard of it and why it is now a 'destination' in its own right.

The sheer size of the factory made it almost impossible to photograph. Even by 21st century standards it is huge.

And the village is full of rows of houses like this, very orderly...

Haha!

Inside Salt Mill you get vistas like this...

The things that struck me were: the sheer beauty of the factory complex itself; the vision of Titus Salt and his ability to combine humanitarianism with entrepreneurialism; the scope of the enterprise - 3000 workers in the heyday of the factory; the somewhat eerie feeling that I experienced in this whole village preserved in time - there was a disjuncture for me between its original purpose and current 'status'; the contrast between the regimentation of the Victorian industrial architecture and the chaotic exuberance of David Hockney's work; the extremely high quality of the commercial use to which the Salt Building has been put.

Sea danger...

On both my visits to the North Yorkshire coast I have been reminded of its isolation (cut off for many centuries by the moors) and dependence on the sea. Everywhere there is evidence of the vital role played by the lifeboats and their crew. In Robin Hood's Bay there was this difficult-to-ignore request for support...

...and this one, which I actually liked better because it was looking a bit tarnished and the poor fish's mouth had sadly clogged up.

One of the most amazing of the many stories associated with the lifeboats is this one (click on image to enlarge and read clearly - it is worth doing so)...

In a much sadder story, this young man Henry Freeman, on his first outing with the Whitby lifeboat crew, was the only survivor when the lifeboat capsized following multiple rescues. Twelve men died. It was thought freeman survived because he was wearing a cork lifejacket...

And, if you can put up with (or switch off) the music, this link pays moving tribute to the brave lifeboat crews  http://www.whitby-yorkshire.co.uk/lifeboat/lifeboats.htm

Finally, a warning to daft tourists, like me...

Robin Hood's Bay

Robin Hood's Bay is just a little south of Whitby. It lacks its larger neighbour's harbour advantages, but it too has a history of isolation and dependence on the sea, especially through fishing. The houses tumble down to the sea...

...and many, over the centuries, have tumbled into the sea, hence this huge retaining wall.

The town is full of narrow alleys, hidden corners and a jostle of chimneys...

Although there is not much fishing from Robin Hood's Bay now, there are still examples of the traditional fishing cobles to be seen.

This very short video clip about the cobles of the east coast is well worth watching...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UmmQjAS8Tw

Seaside delights...

Following exchanges with HB and the hairdresser, I've found myself less judgmental and more curious  about  the seaside entertainment arcades, casinos and suchlike.  I'm trying to view them from a sociologist's perspective, rather than as ugly, noisy blots on the landscape...

I even ventured into Olympia Leisure on the Scarborough waterfront. It was huge. Everyone walking round with what looked like margarine containers filled with coins.  Parents, children ... definitely family entertainment. I am currently re-watching Blackpool. This was it!!

Actually I felt nervous about taking photos inside. There was so much money around I expected a heavy hand on my shoulder any moment. But I couldn't resist these little fellows waiting to be won...

And I've just thought about the sideshows at the Canterbury A&P show. Cheap, tacky, designed to part you with your money, but irresistible nonetheless. 

In Scarborough...

The 'possibly' and 'near' made me chuckle...

By the seaside...

Normally I am shorn every 5 or so weeks. With 7+ weeks having passed since the last cut, I finally bit the bullet and made an appointment at the local Clifton hairdresser. This required some courage and faith. To subject what little hair I have to an unknown scissor-wielder was a scary prospect. The cut was fine but of particular interest was our conversation - which linked to comments my perceptive friend HB had made on her blog some days back. 
http://www.harvestbird.com/blog/2010/03/05/the-house-thats-on-our-nose/

 
HB had observed:

The thing that struck me about seaside kitsch in the UK was the extent to which people were enjoying it, the way in which it was an intractable part of the day at the beach. To New Zealand eyes it seemed to be impairing access to the key feature: the coast, the beach, but for the people from the provincial towns, it’s as if it were the beach!

As always my 3-month residence prompted curiosity and wide-ranging discussion. At some point, quite unbidden, the young hairdresser mentioned the English seaside and the fact that, because the sea is far too cold for swimming, a visit to the coast is synonymous (for her) with amusement arcades, fish & chips on the pier and suchlike. Thus confirming HB's hypothesis!

It reminds me of a visit to Brighton in 1979 when I was welcomed with several G&Ts and then whisked off to the Brighton Pavilion whose surreal splendour I passed through in an alcoholic haze...

The York Ramblers...

Ramble - huh!!  This was a 10-mile tramp across moorland, through woodland, down valleys and up again. Seriously, the semantics of 'ramble' suggest a gentle stroll while our New Zealand 'tramp' seems more appropriate for my walk with the York Ramblers yesterday. I hasten to add that, despite my uncertainty about the distance, I had a fantastic day.

We gathered at Newgate Bank, north-west of Helmsley. I arrived with Chris, a neighbour who had encouraged me to come along, John and Jonathan while other cars arrived from Beverley, Scarborough, County Durham... The walk took us up onto the heather-covered moors above Newgate Bank, through fields and woodland until we dropped down into the valley where Riveaulx Abbey is situated. I was able to look up from the Abbey and see the Riveaulx terrace where I walked a week or so ago. We returned along the other side of the valley, across the river with a final slog back up the hill to the cars.

Not only did I enjoy the exercise and the lovely landscape, but I talked with a lot of most interesting people. There is no doubt that one of the highlights of my stay here will have been the warmth with which I have been welcomed by a wide range of Yorkshire dwellers.

Chris, a good friend (as I discovered and whose name I have forgotten) of Richard and Jean's and the two lasses from County Durham...

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On campus...

I paid a second visit to the University of York campus the other day. This time it was alive with students but even that couldn't save the sadly tired and surprisingly dated 70s (?) architecture. I loved watching and listening to the students as I waited for Wendy's friend Wayne in the library. Wayne and I spent a special hour sharing stories over a coffee and then I headed off to a public lecture given by Lord Nicholas Stern on climate change. This was the man who drove much of the British contribution at the recent Copenhagen summit on climate change. Economist, global mover and shaker and formidably impressive in his command of the topic. No powerpoint, little reference to notes, just a cogent call for global action based on evidence and suggestions as to what that action might constitute. I was very interested in his comments on first/third world tension over the climate change issue and his comparative optimism regarding the speed at which substitute technologies will emerge. He described Copenhagen as chaotic and disappointing but a springboard for further action.

On the Pocklington canal...

This canal, which once connected Pocklington in East Yorkshire with the River Derwent, has largely been restored to provide a valuable wildlife habitat. It was good to see a pair of swans 'in the wild'  rather than the one I saw being fed fish and chips in Whitby or the many clamouring to be fed by willing families in Kensington Gardens.

Wensleydale...

Yesterday I ventured up to Wensleydale in the Yorkshire Dales National Park - James Herriot country. It was a sad day because I had just had news of my Auntie Margaret's death and that shadowed my view of the countryside. I drove north-west to Leyburn and then west to Hawes, returning to Aysgarth to walk past the Asygarth falls towards Castle Bolton.

This is typical of the landscape with its soft, end-of-winter muted colours...

Here are the ubiquitous dry-stone walls with Castle Bolton in the distance...

I was intrigued by the narrow gaps in the stone walls that provided access for walkers and featured flap gates to prevent stock from straying...

Faintly, on the horizon of this last photo, you can see smoke. It seemed they were burning off heather on the moors. There were a number of fires and, as I left the Dales the plumes of smoke could be seen from a great distance. It reminded me of Canterbury burn-offs.

While walking I met yet another Yorkshire lass, from Ripon, who had recently spent five weeks travelling in New Zealand and loving it. Are there any Yorkshire people who have not been to New Zealand or who do not at the very least have a family member who has???

And more friends...

I knew no one in York when I arrived for my three month stay and was quite content to make my own way. But, as I've mentioned in previous posts, I've been overwhelmed by the friendliness and generosity of  neighbours and friends of Sue and Al's. Prior to London I met up with Jill at Cafe Concerto on Bootham and had a lovely chat. This Sunday just past I spent the afternoon/evening with Richard and Jean at Poppleton, seeing their lovely garden, walking on the outskirts of the village, being fed exceptionally well and enjoying wide-ranging conversation.

Here is the maypole on Poppleton Green - Richard and Jean tell me the local children still do the traditional maypole dances each year...

And here is me shielding the late afternoon SUN and carrying a pick-up rubbish bag!

Beatrix Potter...

One of the unexpected delights at Nunnington Hall was an exhibition of Beatrix Potter original drawings and watercolours. Strangely I had visited the drawing archive at the British Museum and asked to view Beatrix Potter work, so here was an additional treat. I never cease to be amazed at her skill - not only technical, for she was a fine botanical artist, but her imaginative ability to depict little creatures in a human landscape and make them credible and endearing. I think we have become over-exposed to her images but they repay close attention and it is always good to see less familiar work. These photos are not from the exhibition and are not mine for obvious reasons...

Beatrix Potter, Kenneth Grahame and AA Milne were childhood companions and, interestingly, have shaped much of my adult thinking and interests.

Nunnington Hall and Rievaulx Terrace

Yesterday I drove up through the Howardian Hills, through Terrington and Hovingham (where I stopped at a very good local market and bought pies - yum) to Nunnington, there to visit Nunnington Hall - a National Trust 17thC  manor house on the banks of the River Rye. This was a large but 'liveable' home as opposed to a stately mansion, most of it in original condition. Once again I was reminded of how cold it must have been in these homes, even with fires in every room. And how dark - the bedrooms with their lovely four-poster beds and dark, dark wooden panelling, floor to ceiling. Beautiful floors - stone flagging below and lovely wide wooden floorboards above. Nothing on the level, everything sloping this way and that.

There was this splendid bridge just to one side of the house over the River Rye...

...and banks of snowdrops.

From Nunnington I drove on through Helmsley to Rievaulx Terrace. Constructed by the owners of Dunscombe Park (see an earlier post), this terrace was an 18thC landscape feature designed to take advantage of the views of Rievaulx Abbey in the valley below.

The moles are still mightily active and I was tickled by the similarity - in shape, if not size - between mole hill and temple...