Rebecca and Nylans wedding day

Thursday morning dawned, grey clouds but the rain had gone and so after a wander around the shops (mainly walking boots, walking clothes and walking sticks) we bought some shoes, lunched and went back to our digs to get dressed for the wedding.  It was a nice ceremony with a stunning bridal party.  The ceremony had subtle differences to the way things are done in NZ.  Far more emphasis on the legal side of things with Rebecca and Nylan both having an individual pre wedding interview prior to the service and us keen amateur photographers not being able to take photos of them signing the register as it is a legal document. After the signing there is a 'pretend register and blank sheet of paper' which sign to get the photo.  Over the meal and in the evening we enjoyed the company of family and friends and then danced the night away. 

On our way to the Lake District

We had been looking forward to this week for ages and finally it was here. Rebecca and Nylan's wedding combined with a few days off for a bit of R and R after so much cleaning, packing and organising. Reuben arrived on Tuesday afternoon and Harry took the afternoon off to show him the sights of Bristol (harbour, Clifton Suspension Bridge, Cabot Tower etc) and on Wednesday off we drove to the Lake District. It is a good distance away - about 5 hours with most of it motorway.  As we got closer we detoured to take in some of the Lake District sights of Windermere and Ambleside (we did want to return there during the weekend but alas there was another airshow on - too much traffic - and yes Harry did decide a walk would be more fun than a country air show - no twisting of arms required!!) With a stop for an ice cream and to buy some of Sarah Nelsons gingerbread at Grasmere we explored the little town with many other tourists. It has a bit of a ski resort feel. But more about Sarah Nelson who made this gingerbread that Harry couldn't stop raving about (and may have trouble sharing).  She was born in 1815 into a impoverished family with no Dad. At an early age she was put into service and became a cook and even after marriage and two kids she continued to wash and cook for the gentry in the area. When she was in her mid forties the family moved to ‘Gate Cottage’ (previously the village school where boys were sent to school for a penny a day but once education became compulsory in the 1600's the cottage was too small). Sarah began to make gingerbread under the eagle eye of a French chef. Tourists during this victorian age walked past, smelt it, saw Sarah in a white apron and saw her sitting out in her little yard selling the biscuit. Sarah became the ‘Baker and Confectioner of Church Cottage, Grasmere’. After her death the recipe passed to her great niece who sold it and soon this closely guarded secret was sold on to someone else. Apparently, over the years little has changed in this tiny shop - the school coat pegs are still in place, and so is the cupboard used to house the school slates. Just past the shop and around through the garden is a little church and cemetery. We wandered into the church which had a floor covered in rushes (its rushbearing season) which gave it an earthy and homely atmosphere. I didn't know anything about this custom - it is centuries old.  Rushes are used to cover the floor and a festival is held around rush carts. There was rivalry between the supporters and builders of different carts which was often accompanied by brawls and drunken behaviour. The puritanical church people didn't like this and refused the rushbearers to be allowed into the churches which of course caused friction in the church...and on it goes. Along the path is a little garden and cemetery where William Wordsworth and many of his family are buried. He was born not far away in Cockermouth and spent most of his life in the Lake District. One of his wellknown poems was inspired by a walk in the district "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" in 1804. He and his sister walked around the woods and "When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park, we saw a few daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the lake had floated the seed ashore and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as we went along there were more and more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing. This wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little knot and a few stragglers a few yards higher up but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity and unity and life of that one busy highway. We rested again and again. The Bays were stormy, and we heard the waves at different distances and in the middle of the water like the sea.

— Dorothy Wordsworth, The Grasmere Journal , Thursday, 15 April 1802

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 thoughtwhat 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.

It is summer and the daffodils are over but we can imagine what a picture brother and sister saw.

Onwards and upwards we drove to Lodore Falls. How lost we were as there was no cell phone reception!! No one else had arrived so we checked Reuben in and went to find our bed and breakfast - a nice homely place for our next four nights. Good morning serviettes, a smiling host, nice and clean room - what more could we want!! We caught up later over dinner at a local pub and met some of the other wedding guests.

Airshows

In the last two weeks we have found 'freecycle' (bit like Trademe but it is free to a good home) where we advertised our tv, couch, bed and old camera and I had 39 emails from keen people within a day.  By the end of the weekend Harry had said goodbye to the tv, couch, microwave oven and some other little things and the bed and camera also have found homes. Back to watching tv on the computer sitting in a not too comfortable chair (it is only for a few weeks I say).  However, Freecycle seems to have a catch - I registered but it no longer recognises my registration details so I can't tell everyone the goods are taken - hence the emails keep coming - the administrator hasn't found the problem and hasn't cancelled the entries either!!  In between all this we have managed to get to a few quiz nights 7th out of 12 last week (no thanks to me) and go out for dinner a few times - Chris and family, Andrew and Claire in Swansea.  A little walk along the beach at Kewstoke on Sunday and then the RIAT airshow the following week.
We arrived at the airport at 7.45 (that's morning) and Harry took off for a seat on the flight line.  I sat in the car for a couple of hours reading a book and willing the torrential rain to stop before putting on coat and leggings because nature called.  Unfortunately, the weather had different ideas and the rain came down as I went search firstly for a loo and then for Harry.  Honestly, there must have been a special combo on black umbrellas, grey jackets and dark blue fold up chairs.  On spying that combination my eyes strayed to the shoes - brown loafers, pink gumboots, red trainers - not really Harry's sort of thing so I moved on.  Grey trainers - worth a second look - good looking but a bit young - and not Harry.  I wandered about 1.5 kilometres along the flight line, trying not too smile too much at the spectators hunched under their umbrellas, coats, small tents and wind breaks.  Most looking decidedly dejected and one woman looked at me and said 'at least you look happy'.  I made some comment to which she replied 'I imagine you are thinking that only the British would do this'.  How did she know?  I stopped for some noodles on the way and later for a coffee and then began the trek back searching for my other half.   By this time the rain had stopped and the umbrellas were down giving me what I hoped would be a better view of the crowd.  Alas more grey coats and grey heads were visible and with more people standing I could see less than before.  And then I spied him standing by the flight line, in grey coat and how could I have forgotten about the blue sunhat (we are known for our kiwi optimism over here).  That's about me for the day, read the newspaper (it managed to stay dry - unlike others who tried in vain to read wet newsprint), found a necklace in the craft store, wandered over to the band playing in the evening.
Now for Harry...Choices, choices, choices - shall we go on Saturday, or hang out for Sunday and hope that the weather will improve.  Saturday was better than Sunday as the rain delayed the flying display only by a couple of hours and we did get to see the Vulcan, Battle of Britain Memorial Flight, Rafale, F16 and the Gripen. Great photo opportunities in the afternoon as the weather cleared and the sun came out.

Goodwood Festival of Speed and Henley Rowing Regatta

It was all about transport and racing this weekend.  Cars and canoes.  The Goodwood Festival of Speed is the highlight for any motor car enthusiast and it was 6.00 in the morning when our little yellow Saxo took one car enthusiast and a sleepy passenger for a long drive south.  We arrived to a reasonably full car park and walked into Goodwood with hundreds of others all dressed in shorts, teeshirts, sun hats and covered in sun screen ie weatherwise it was going to be a good day. I left Harry after working out where we would meet for lunch (I had left my cell phone back in Bristol, so instructions were by the statue at the end of the Red Arrow display) and went off to watch the motorised and human powered bikes do their thing.  It was fairly impressive!!  I then took some long walks around the race track (bit difficult to see without a stand ticket) and through the shops and up through the forest to the top of the track. Lots of noise and roof tops of cars whizzing by!! Spent some time sitting in the seat in deck chairs and talking to security guards on their lunch breaks...

And now the Goodwood Festival through Harry's eyes.  Like a child in a candy shop - I didn't know which way to turn first.  So many things to see and so many cars ranging from 1911 through to the most modern - all the super cars on the market today.  Lots and lots and lots of motor racing cars from saloon cars to Le Mans prototypes to Formula 1. It was a century since the Indianapolis 500 was first raced and there were examples of all the racing cars raced during the years including Scott Dixon driving his 2010 Dalara Honda.  The Goodwood Festival of Speed has become such a well known event thanks to Lord March owner of the Goodwood estate.  Not surprisingly he is a petrol head and drove a 1978 turbine car that ran at Indianapolis.  There is even a strip of bricks from the famous race at the start of the Goodwood race track.

We both had a great day - but were we in the same place??
The next day we weren't really sure what we would do but after some discussion Harry suggested we go off to see Henley on the way back to Bristol - the place well known for its rowing regattas.  Little did we know that a regatta was on so we followed the yellow 'regatta' signs with a big P and after driving down some narrow country lanes we found a park (£5 for the first one we missed, £8 for the next which we stopped at and £20 if you want to park close by).  It was picnic day beside the Thames - some like us were in shorts and sandals and munched on sandwiches.  Others (in their old boy striped jackets and brightly coloured trousers and woman in outfits fit for the Queens garden party with shoes to match) munched on strawberries and champagne at picnic tables you could hire for £10 a day or under trees in the expansive car parks.  Others with connections and the right dress had the privilege of sampling horderves in a marquee at the finish line.  The River Thames was an array of little and not so little boats going up and down the course (regardless of whether a race was on or not), some with a brass bands playing and some with umpires and serious looking officials.  Occasionally a race was run - but only 2 boats at a time which was a little bit boring for us especially since there was no way we could see the finish of the race (next time we'll just have to dress up) and we didn't know who to support.  Quite a cultural experience!

Brownsea Island and Jurassic Walkway

It must have been a bit of an eventless week - while eating a jacket potato for lunch one day I wondered 'What colour are carbohydrates?'  I pondered this for a while even though I know even if the little things aren't white everything bad for you is a carbo and diets say 'stay off white foods' which are pretty hard to resist in my opinion (more than chocolate - but Harry would disagree). Then I wondered when everyone said that the weather on Sunday would be 30+  what on earth would we talk about if the weather was consistently nice blue sky, windless and warm every day!! Saturday dawned and we were up and on our way to Brownsea Island - a National Trust property in the Poole Harbour - and one of the few homes to the endangered red squirrel.  We caught the little ferry across and wandered to a high point for lunch, enjoyed the sea views (though the photos would look so much better if the sky was blue - have you heard that before?) and the little squirrels came to say hello as we munched on our french bread.  George IV visited here before he became king (probably had a bit more of a lavish lunch) and said "I had no idea there had been such a delightful spot in the whole of the kingdom".  He should visit Kapiti Island (which incidentally when I searched on the web for Brownsea Island came up as another island to visit). We then wandered along the beach (lots of mud and orange rocks) and up the hill to where Lord Baden Powell had organised his first scout camp over 100 years ago.  He was a Lieutenant General in the British Army and wrote the Scouting for Boys a year later - obviously inspired by the success of the first camp. Scouting is still very popular over here and there were at least 2 troops enjoying the island while we visited.  Some were learning water skills, others reluctantly doing their community service by clearing away broken branches and some thinking about eating.  The programme for the first experimental scouting camp went like this...
Day 1 - Prelimary - setting up camp and patrols and given duties.
Day 2 - Campaigning - hut and mat making, tying knows, lighting fires, cooking and boat management.
Day 3 - Observation - training the eyesight, tracking, memorising details and landmarks.
Day 4 - Woodcraft - learning to stalk, studying animals, birds, plants and stars.
Day 5 - Chivalry - honour and cougage, charity, thrift, loyalty, unselfishness and doing a good turn every day.
Day 6 - Saving life - first aid, resuce from fire, gas, drowning and runaway horses.
Day 7 - Patriotism - knowlege of geography, the British Empire, helpfulness and the duties of a good citizen.
Day 8 - Sports day - games and activites incorporating the previous days learnings.
The broken branches were caused by clearing of the undergrowth - the main food for the red squirrel is the little pinecone (you see them on the ground chewed like we would chew an apple - wide at the ends and narrow in the middle), and the trees do not seed and grow if there is too much undergrowth - so we were told. The view from the island across to Sandbanks was enticing so after the ferry trip we drove around the Millionaires Strip.  Although the houses were large we decided that all those belonging to famous people (eg Madonna and Guy Ritchie) were hidden behind trees because we certainly didn't even get a glimpse of these castle like houses though they were bigger than the standard terraced housing we see so much here.  Anyway, it is thanks to a rather eccentric lady who bought the island back in the 1920's that Brownsea Island did not go the same way as Sandbanks - Mary Bonham Christie or better known as "the Demon of Brownsea". She wanted the island to be a nature reserve - which in other words meant 'do nothing for 40 or so years'.  And so the wilderness grew.  She didn't like uninvited guests which included fisherman (they were tipped out of their boats when digging for worms in the mudflats), residents (she evicted the residents of St Mary's village - the fourth generation of local inhabitants) or day trippers who took the challenge to swim across the island and if courageous enough stayed the night and evaded capture.  Two cute little stories from two children who's families were allowed to visit the island during the reign of Mary Christie....

"Thank you for the day.  I like your beard.  I like the one-legged chicken".

"We went to tea at the Castle and started with a fruit salad, which had been prepared days earlier and was covered with dust and dead insects.This was followed by a salad with brown-edged lettuce leaves and curled up stale bread and butter. There was deer in the kitchen, curtains in shreds, windows broken and live rats and mice on the table.  Mrs Bonham Christie had the audacity to admonish me for not using my side plate correctly".

Our next stop was Swanage - a car ferry this time - to a very typical English seaside resort.  We wandered around the coast and onto the 100 year old Victorian pier which has been renovated magnificently. This is the place where you can hire a deck chair for £2.50 a day, rent or own a little bathing shed (with net curtains - incidentally a bathing shed is on sale for £150,000 somewhere along the English coast - it has marble bench tops!!), go for a dip in the very cold sea, wander the sandy beach (not rocky), view the white cliffs from afar, moor your fairly expensive boat, enjoy some impressive graffiti and enjoy some reasonable fish and chips (where the cook apologised for the fish being 'upside down' in the polystyrene dish - we presume because the skin on our take away fillet was on the upside!! Oh for fish with no skin.). 

A bit more driving along the peninsula and we came to Corfe Castle. Having been to Brownsea which inspired Enid Blyton to write the Famous Five on Kirrin Island we were now visiting the castle that inspired Kirrin Castle - these stories "epitomise the golden age of childhood and of English summers as we once knew them. The sun always shone whenever the Famous Five went on holiday"http://www.gingerpop.co.uk/We nearly didn't make it to the castle - too much walking on half a century legs had led to a bargain - car park near the castle entrance means we go in - no car park drive on to dinner and an early night. Surprisingly, a car park appeared only a few steps away and so we enjoyed the wander up the hill soon forgetting our aches and pains as we soaked in the history of more ruins. Situated high above the valley on the Purbeck hills there were lots of places to explore, windows to look out, crumbling walls to cautiously step around and steps to climb which provide a view of the town with the same name. Like many castles it was built in instalments over the centuries by the various royal families like Henry I, John, Henry III and Richard the Lionheart. There are some rather grim stories which makes me pleased I live in this day and age where we all have a right to our opinion and birthright ... a 13th century woman called Maud de Braose and her son William who annoyed King John of England were "walled alive" inside the castle dungeon, where without food and water they didn't last long. Eleanor of Brittany, sister of the murdered prince Arthur and heiress to England was imprisoned there for some years and so was Princess Margaret and her sister Isobel, daughters of King William I of Scotland. Elizabeth I sold the castle to her Lord Chancellor and it then changed hands a number of times and under went a number of sieges like most other castles during those many centuries of local and royal unrest.

Long summer evenings means lots of daylight to explore and so after driving through the quaint little village of Lulworth Cove (thatched cottages and gardens) we stopped for a cup of tea in the carpark and then headed off to explore.  I don't think that Enid Blyton was inspired by this cove but we were.  We wandered along the rocky shore, up the steep path (all fours were required for both the little and the big) to get a good view of the sea pounding the rock formations.  This is one of the Jurassic walkway and this time I hadn't really done my homework - around the other way were fossilised trees in the cliffs - a missed opportunity.

The promised 30 degree day arrived (it reached about 25 at moments) and after eating our 'hotel breakfast' (delivered on a tray to our room - 1 small fruit juice, 1 bruised banana, 1 apple, 1 croissant with butter and jam - we shouldn't complain cos we had a very nice Thai meal the night before in the hotel restaurant - perhaps our expectations had been raised a bit) we drove around Weymouth and Portland.  Driving to the top of Portland hill, we didn't hold out much hope because the sun was clearly masked by a low lying fog - we entertained ourselves by walking briskly up the hill, taking photos of the mist and looking through the telescope in the hoping of seeing something - but alas no.  The fog didn't seem to lift around this area and was still over the peninsula when we had been around a water garden (to be missed if you are short of time - but it seemed the place to take your elderly parents for a wander on a Sunday afternoon) and found Chesil Beach (an interesting long, highly piled rocks which separates the sea and a shallower inlet) - this is the place to try your hand at catching mackerel (which were running this weekend said the local rag, but no one seemed to be telling the fish).  It was great - walking on rocks was like running another marathon - and so on the way back we found an overgrown path full of corn which we sang our way through to the amusement of others tackling the pebbly path on the other side of the corn.

There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,
There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,
The corn is as high as an elephant's eye,
An' it looks like its climbin' clear up to the sky.

Oh what a beautiful morning,
Oh what a beautiful day,
I've got a wonderful feeling,
Everything's going my way.

And then it was on to a sandy beach for some rest and recreation before heading back to Bristol (still too cold for a swim though!).