Happy in Hull

Dave had a day's business meetings in Hull on Thursday, and we've spent so little time together this month that I decided to tag along.  I've never been to the city before - the closest I ever got was a day trip to Beverley with my parents, simply years ago - so I was looking forward to exploring.

I'd heard some bad things about the city - poverty, shabbiness, even the risk of being mugged - but in the event I was very pleasantly surprised.  Even Dave, who last visited about eight years ago, said it had come on leaps and bounds.  We arrived late Wednesday afternoon and after dumping our bags at our hotel, shot out for a long and really enjoyable walk round.  This started in the main shopping street and ended up at the same place, but by way of the marina, harbour, and the maze of winding narrow streets that forms the old town.  Everywhere we looked there was something interesting, from traces of Hull's oldest dock to the largest parish church in England, from the swish modern building housing aquarium venue The Deep to lift-up bridges, from a statue of poet Philip Larkin at the railway station to fish carved in the pavements.  The sun shone, the river Humber sparkled, and it all looked surprisingly prosperous and nice.

On Thursday I explored more by myself (Dave being parked in his meetings all day) and discovered the Maritime Museum, free to enter with detailed displays on the whaling and deep sea fishing trades that flourished in the town in past centuries.  Some of the whaling stuff was a little too strong for my stomach, but the information about the whaling boats' frequent trips to Greenland was fascinating.

Finally, yesterday morning we drove over to the top of Spurn Head, a long narrow strip of land surrounded by the sea on both sides, which was formed by erosion and deposition along the coast.  Again the sun shone and a brisk wind blew waves crashing along the explosed seaward side; a mile or so further up the coast you could see huge chunks of the cliff broken off where the sea has eaten away at the land.  On the quieter, estuarine side we spotted vast flocks of wading birds, and a hare, dashing along the shore at a great rate of knots.  Sadly we couldn't walk right along the Point because it was full of lorries, tractors and men working hard to repair the breach which happened during last winter's storms.  It was still fascinating, though, and a lovely wild and windswept end to a very enjoyable trip.

Popping Up in Kendal

Yesterday I dashed over to Kendal for a couple of things.  One was a talk by author Davina Blake about her novel 'Past Encounters', the other a visit to Kendal's new "pop up shop", where the council let out an empty shop unit to aspiring traders on a cut price, week by week basis.  I had thought it might be fun for a group of local (and local-ish) authors to take over the place and use it to sell our books.  However, a quick look round yesterday suggests it may not best suit our needs, as it's very small and very, very basic.  For anyone who's already set up in the trading business, or who wants to own a shop and doesn't mind buying all the equipment first, it's fine.  For us, possibly less so, but it was interesting to go and see it.

The shop comes with a separate, lockable storage unit in a building across the yard at the back.  I also had a chance for a quick peek inside this and it was fascinating, because it apparently used to house either police cells, or the town lock up.  You can still see two tiny rooms, which look like toilet cubicles only without the plumbing, built into the thickness of the walls.  Kendal never fails to amaze me - everywhere you look there's some new and unexpected slice of history.

Davina Blake's talk, at Kendal Library, more than made up for any shortcomings of the pop up shop.  Her book, a World War 2 historical/romance, is set against two main backdrops - one, the filming of 'Brief Encounter' at Carnforth railway station, and two, the so-called Long March to Freedom of Allied POWs towards the end of the war.  The story of how Davina set about research both elements made for an entertaining hour, with lots of illustrations and a cup of tea and a cake thrown in!

In praise of local museums

We'd hoped to go to Fleetwood today (for a complete change since neither of us has visited the town before) and visit the fishing museum.  Sadly the weather didn't play ball.  Grey skies, diagonal drizzle and strong wind don't add up to the best conditions in an exposed seaside resort, and today we got all three.  So we took a rain check (literally) and headed to Kendal Museum instead.

We've been here before, once for a proper look round and several times to meetings of the local Astronomical Society, but it's an eclectic mix of history, archaeology, local geology, art and stuffed fluffies and always good for poking about on a wet day.  This time we concentrated on some of the natural history displays: lots of taxidermy which these days would be frowned upon, but because the exhibits date from Victorian times actually seems quite educational.  Neither of us had ever realised just how huge an albatross is, for instance, until we saw the pair they have here.

A nice way of losing an entire hour - and better still, it's free!

Great exhibition

Saturday morning was sunny for a change so we hopped in the car and enjoyed a spectacular drive over Kirkstone Pass (not long re-opened after the snow) and alongside Ullswater to the Rheged centre near Penrith.

We've never been here before, having thought it was a typical tourist attraction without much to recommend it.  It certainly is a glorified coach stop, with a handful of shops, two or three cafes, a large car park and a petrol station.  However, unlike most motorway services, it also has workshops, frequent events, and exhibition spaces, and it was the latter we were headed for, to see those Herdwick photos.

Rather remarkably, both the centre and the exhibition itself are free to enter.  The photographs on display are truly sensational, many with an odd almost 3D effect, and all capturing the changing seasons within an unchanging landscape that sums up the central Lakes so perfectly.  There were far more pictures than we expected, lining the walls of three or four separate 'rooms', along with sculptures and extracts from the photographer's own book, so it took us a good half hour to look round the whole thing.

The book looks amazing, and there were also some lovely prints and other general Herdwick-related merchandise available in a small shop nearby.  Sadly, the prices were astronomical.  Much as I'd have loved a framed print or a signed copy of the book, I simply wasn't prepared to pay £225 or £125, respectively, for either.  Needless to say, the minute I got home again I rather wished I had...

Herdies!

I rather like Herdies, or to give them their formal name, Herdwicks - the semi-wild native sheep of the Lake District.  They're stocky, staggeringly well-adjusted to their mountainous home, and seem to wear a permanent smile.  A recent television programme about England's highest mountain, Scafell Pike, revealed that the Herdwicks love the open fellside so much that if the farmers try to keep them in lowland pasture too long past the breeding season, they will happily chew through fences and kick down walls to get back to the tops.

And now there's an exhibition of photographs dedicated to these characterful little creatures, based at the Rheged centre near Penrith.  And if the sample on this BBC web page are anything to go by, they're absolutely stunning.  We're going to try to visit at the weekend.  I'll let you know if it was worth it.

Arctic blast

We're stuck in a cold snap at the moment, with daytime temperatures struggling to get above freezing and night times plummeting to around minus 8 or 9c.  Brrr!  The upside is that we have unbroken winter sunshine most days, which looks stunning when combined with heavy snowfall on the fells.

On Sunday we made the most of the conditions for a walk at Coniston.  The route we'd been thinking of, across the fields to Coniston Hall, proved to be ankle deep in mud, so we plodded over a little bridge and followed a lane to a different portion of lake shore, with a Victorian (style?) pavilion, a tea shop (which we rather remarkably stayed out of) and lovely views across the lake.  A path followed the shore past piles of canoes, a boat yard, and open fields, all against a backdrop of snowy Coniston fells, and the weather was so amazing and the views so special that we took simply tons of photos.

It's not the longest walk on the planet, and our ears were the colour of woad by the time we got back to the car, but we really enjoyed the trip and the chance to get some good fresh air into our lungs.

Concrete Jungle

I'm delighted to say that I've just re-established contact with my short story Concrete Jungle, which I quite thought had vanished into the internet maelstrom for ever.  It turns out that, like Philae, it was balanced on a cliff-edge in outer space somewhere just waiting for a ray of sun, and now that sun has arrived in the shape of a new, updated and very nice website over at Ink, Sweat & Tears.

The magazine accepted Concrete Jungle several years ago, but in its old incarnation was almost impossible to search for archived stuff once it had dropped off the main page.  I shrugged, assumed the story was lost to time, and took the link off my website.

Now, thanks to that new site and a very good search feature, I've unearthed it again and you can read the story at Ink Sweat & Tears right now.  It's a lyrical, surrealist piece of prose-poetry about love, which was inspired by the surreal concrete gardens at Las Posas in Mexico, and it's always been one of my favourites.

I hope you enjoy it (again)!

Lakeland photos

If anyone ever wondered why we moved to the Lake District (full of tourists, rains all the time) then you could do worse than check out this link to the winners of the annual Wainwright Society photographic competition.  To say they're stunning is the understatement of the year!  I feel very privileged to have this beautiful landscape quite literally on the doorstep.

Haunted houses?

I was rootling around on Google yesterday doing a bit of research for the ghost novella when I came across a link to this article, eye-catchingly headed "8 Houses That Are Actually Haunted".

Needless to say, I just had to go and have a look, but perhaps unsurprisingly the content failed to live up to the headline.  Not only were many of the details vague and unproveable (footsteps in a supposedly empty house could so easily be someone who'd got in unseen), but 'actually' hardly applies to Borley Rectory since it burned down in the 1940s!

I remember seeing a much longer description of both Borley Rectory (which does sound as though it had a thoroughly unpleasant atmosphere, whether you believe in ghosts or not), and those faces on the Spanish floor, in a book I had as a kid.  Back then, the faces really spooked me.  Now I can't help thinking they look very much like medieval tiles, which would, of course, hardly be out of place on an ancient floor. 

Ah well.  It's still an entertaining read, and good source material if you're looking for a creepy setting for a story or three.

I'm back!

Like a bad penny I've turned up after a short break, and am busy scribbling again.

At the moment I'm polishing a ghost novella which I first write a few years ago, but which has needed some re-jigging.  I've know for some time *what* needs changing, but not *how* to do it.  Inspiration finally struck the other week and I'm now deep in final edits, chasing down the changes that need to be made thanks to other changes further on in the story.

The story is a complete romp set in an English country house which is reputed to be the most haunted in the entire country.  It's home to heroine Emily, a struggling artist who lives hand to mouth, never quite sure where the next pay cheque will come from or what will need fixing next, and an impressive collection of ghosts.  Tempted by the money, Emily agrees to let Angelic Productions film at the house for their hit tv show Got Ghosts?, which leads to chaos when the show's resident medium Stella stirs up more than she bargains for, and Emily has to go on a treasure hunt for a collection of missing paintings.

It's always been one of my favourite stories and was a complete blast to write.  I'm very hopeful that I can get the final polish done and (forgive the pun) dusted in the next few days, and get a few query letters winging their way to publishers.

Do keep checking back for news; I'll try not to leave it as long without an update this time!

Back to Holehird

During our first visit to the LHS gardens at Holehird, Dave discovered that they have a fully-functional weather station nearby and one of the volunteers regularly collates and publishes the stats.  Since this might prove useful for his astronomy, he contacted the chap and got talking, and the net result was another trip to the gardens to meet up.

The two guys chatted about meteorology and data-gathering while I had another very pleasant mooch round, and then we piled into a car for a quick trip to a secret location to see the weather station.  I can't say exactly where because it's on private farmland and the sheep might get cross, but it wasn't far and gave us the opportunity to get 'up close and personal' with the various bits of equipment.  These days it's all a lot more high-tec than the experiments we did at school, with sat-nav and computer link-ups and gawd knows what.  It was surprisingly interesting, and the stunning scenery, plus lambs and rabbits scuttling about, made for a very enjoyable trip out.

Mother's Day special

To help celebrate the American version of Mother's Day, Riptide Publishing are holding a massive cut-price sale between now and Sunday.  All their e-book titles are discounted, some by as much as 50%, and the good news is that Gleams of a Remoter World is also on offer at a whopping 40% off normal price.

This is a great offer, but it only lasts until first thing on Sunday so if you want to grab a copy while you can, hurry along to the Riptide catalogue now.  Blink and you'll miss it!

Easter fun

Last year Easter was a bit of a disaster.  The weather was freezing cold, we were stuck in the Midlands, and nothing seemed to be open.  So what a lovely contrast to this year's break.  The sun shone more-or-less throughout, it was warm without being uncomfortable, the good weather brought the crowds out, and we managed to pack more into four days than most months!

On Friday we took off across Cumbria to St Bees Head, the start of the famous Coast to Coast walk.  No way were we going to set off on that, but Dave saw it in the autumn at the start of his own marathon walk, and liked it enough to take me back.  Not that there's much there, in some ways - a small dusty town, a large car park, a beach-front café... but the scenery is stunning.  Sweeping beach, rock pools, soaring cliffs, and a path that heads off into the wide green yonder.  We staggered up the first part of the cliff walk, teetering on the brink where the winter storms have washed bits away, and were rewarded with views back over the town to the distant Lakeland fells.  Pure magic, and the drive there, via the white-knuckle route over Wrynose and Hardknott passes, wasn't bad either.

On Saturday we had a few local chores, but late afternoon we strolled down to Windermere Rugby Club for their 'rock the blues' event, a weekend of live bands featuring acts from various parts of the UK, with food from a local Mediterranean-style café in Kendal to boot.  Sadly, this wasn't quite so much fun as I was expecting.  The event itself was very small, really just rugby club members with a few holiday-makers who'd been lassooed in, and the music was a touch on the amateur side with endless cover versions of sixties and seventies hits.  It was enjoyable enough, but had something of the feel of a family wedding rather than the festival we'd hoped for.  And there weren't nearly enough Blues!

Sunday afternoon broke the mould, weather-wise, but we managed to cram a visit to Holehird gardens in before the cloud turned up.  This is the HQ for the Lakeland Horticultural Society, only a stone's throw from where we live, but although we'd seen it advertised we'd never been.  All I can say is, we didn't know what we were missing because it's an absolute gem.  There are walled gardens and herbaceous borders, glass-houses and rockeries, ponds and cascades, all set in a stunning location with far-reaching views across the lake to the fells beyond.  We trotted up and down paths, round and round beds, past fountains and streams, through the 'woodland walk' and past swathes of daffodils, heather and rhododendrons, all in glorious sunshine.  A real treat, and since the garden is just about within walking distance, one I'm hoping to repeat.

Finally, on Monday we headed to Abbot Hall art gallery in Kendal to catch their current exhibition of British Surrealist art (totally fascinating), and then walked up School Knott to round off a thoroughly enjoyable weekend.

Lake District 4, West Midlands nil!

Lucky find

We took advantage of the sudden warm spring-like weather to stroll down to the lake on Sunday afternoon, and very festive it was too.  The sun had brought out the crowds; people were wandering about feeding the swans and munching ice-creams almost as though it was summer, and the shops had flung open their doors to catch the trade.

This included the little 'Bric a Brac' shop down an alley behind the church, which nearly always has something tempting on its shelves.  I was busy browsing the books when Dave came to grab me.  "You know you've been looking out for the soundtrack to that old BBC series 'Flight of the Condor'," he said.  "Well, they've got it outside, on CD, for a quid."

I nearly ran him over in the rush to get my hands on said CD, because I have indeed been trying to track it down for absolutely years.  The BBC in their wisdom released the soundtrack (a stunning mix of South American music) on LP, and then brought it out on the (then) brand-new format of CD... for about six months... and promptly wiped the entire recording.  Hence copies of the CD are like hen's teeth.  I've had a watch on Ebay for about the last two years with no success; yet here it was, sitting in a pile of other CDs as though it was nothing special.

I chucked a pound coin in the general direction of the shop assistant (who had her hands rather full at the time trying to persuade a giant bumble bee to leave the shop), and headed home well pleased with my loot.  It's amazing what you can find, poking around in these little second-hand shops sometimes!

Five stars

Just a quickie to say that the Shapeshifters anthology from Fox Pockets has had its first rating on Goodreads - and it's five stars!

I'm delighted, because it's no more than the collection deserves.  I read it from cover to cover and there are some truly exceptional stories in there.

So go on, what are you all waiting for?  ;)

C-c-cold

The weather has changed again, and turned bitterly cold with frequent heavy sleet showers - just when we're getting work done on the house which necessitates having windows open and the heating and hot water switched off!  Brrr.

Never mind, there are compensations.  Like the fact that the fells are all covered in snow, creating a dramatic backdrop for the daffodils and new lambs springing up all over...

Around the houses

There are some horrendous roadworks in Kendal at the moment, which effectively cut off the north western part of town from everywhere else.  Trouble is, thanks to the local geography which includes one railway line, three separate rivers and quite a few mountains, there's a very limited selection of other routes.  In fact, there are two.  One is incredibly narrow, skirts the foot of Kentmere and Longsleddale, and comes out on a steep slope at a blind bend on the A6.  The other is a narrow, twisting, switchback road through the village of Burneside and across the fields, joining up with the A6 further towards town.

To avoid the delays in town (which can be up to half an hour at busy times) we've started using the latter route.  Trouble is, so has everyone else.  In fact, I think one of the satnav companies might even have re-programmed their system to suggest that road, because suddenly it's extremely busy, and not just with local cars. 

Yesterday we needed a quick trip into Kendal to pick up some vinyl flooring.  We got through Burneside okay, and past the ruins of the peel tower at Burneside Hall.  Then Dave decided to try to 'shoot the gap' along the really narrow section... and came face to face with a massive hgv around an almost blind bend.  Cue much swearing, and a tricky reverse along half a mile of twisting hedge-bound lane until we finally found a gate to pull in.  The hgv then trundled past without so much as a thank-you wave, and we set off again... only to come face to face with a van.

What all this heavy transport is doing on such an unsuitable route is anyone's guess, but it's lending the trip to the supermarket a distinctly hair-raising note.  And there's still several weeks of roadworks left to go....

Pressies?

Dave came back from his week in Holland with four bars of chocolate, two boxes of tom yum soup, a pack of rotis, and a shocking cold.  I don't mind the choccies or the soup, but I'm desperately trying to avoid being given the cold....

Wings over the lake

I popped out for another walk on Monday, to take advantage of the sudden spring weather and warm sunshine.  Pottering about on some of the by-ways at the back of Bowness, where the town gives way to fields and woods, I heard the sudden roar of an aircraft engine.  Nothing new in that, because we get so many RAF training flights over the lake, except that this one sounded different from the usual shattering scream of a Tornado.

Sure enough, when the plane appeared, banking steeply almost right overhead, it turned out to be a Spitfire!  It was painted black with yellow flashing along the wings.  As I watched it levelled out and headed off at some speed across the lake, to be lost as a small dark speck in the scenery, leaving me none the wiser what it was doing there.

A thoroughly nice surprise.

Passing in the night...

Dave and I seem to be like the proverbial ships at the moment.  He spent a good bit of last week away on business.  Then on Friday there was a work crisis, and he got on a train heading south only ten minutes after I'd got on a train heading north for a weekend away.  He got back late Saturday.  I got back Sunday afternoon.  By Monday morning he was off again, this time to Manchester airport for a flight to Holland, where he'll be all week.

We'll be lucky if we still remember each other's faces at this rate...