FINALLY I get some time to write about the weekend. Friday, J came over at 8.30 (E wisely insisted on an early start) and E came by in her van, stacked with bikes, we set off on the M1 and had a greasy caff breakfast at a generic service station. Got to Ashbourne at lunchtime, checked out some antique shops (I bought a bakelite clock made in Cricklewood - which is pretty near where I live), and then got a call from A, who'd got the train from Stoke and was cycling to meet us, that it was too windy. Picked him up, and got to our cottage fourish.
Our cottage was fab. Had everything you needed without being twee, and was very reasonably priced. I said I'd give Caroline a plug. At the centre of Hartington (cute village with pubs, tea shops and provisions stores) in the Peak District National Park, we had a relaxing weekend of walking (to Pilsbury and Sheen) and cycling (although I did less of that). As well as cooking, drinking, reading, talking, hanging out and going out for a curry in Buxton. On the way back, we had Bakewell Tart in Bakewell and did a whistlestop tour of the Potteries/Five Towns.
I love the feeling of getting out of London and time just being slower. And the sense that you talk to people. And independent shops. We bought some fresh fish in Ashbourne and J and I heard the whole life story of the fishmonger. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not. I went on a bike for the first time in fifteen years, and J is all gung-ho about cycling around London now. I got very taken with a Spode pattern called Penny Lane, and I feel mellow/relaxed/re-invigorated from hanging out with good friends. Also, I learned how to light a fire - which A couldn't believe I had no idea how to do. He grew up on a farm, I think it's a long walk to the car. Only one of us, however, knows how to negotiate a mobile phone tarriff. Call me urban?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment