Yorkshire puddles

"To the outside world we all grow old.  But not to brothers and sisters.  We know each other as we always were.  We know each other's hearts.  We share private family jokes.  We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys.  We live outside the touch of time."

Clara Ortega

The kids and I were back on the train tracks and headed off to check on the Yorkshire branch of the family tree.  Time to visit cousin Shoshone, my sister Lisa and Dave.  I have to admit that public transport in the UK is like the ultimate runaway train roller coaster ride for the kids.  In the US we go everywhere, and I mean everywhere in the car, I truly embrace my minivan dream Stateside.  Riding the tracks, discovering the  different stations is a real novelty for us.  We are the fresh faced amateurs wheeling around the escalators, smiling and excited amongst the dour, gray, professional commuters who turn their noses up at our fumbling platform changes.  We still look people in the eye and smile instead of fixing a stare just above their heads.  The fast intercity trains that whizz through the smaller stations at top speed give us the biggest thrill, its like Thomas the Tank Engine on crack.  

"Cousins are different beautiful flowers in the same garden."

Unknown

Shoshone Joy truly lives up to her name, perhaps I am a little biased but for an under one year old she is blissful.  Intelligent, fast, enquiring and of course being born in Yorkshire she knows her own mind and what she wants.  Shoni reminds me greatly of my maternal grandmother, I find it amazing how the gene pool skips around the generations.  Although we were about to enter a different kind of pool.  Jazz and Josh were besides themselves with excitement when Lisa had them take Shoni swimming for the first time.  

"If you want to learn to swim jump into the water."
Bruce Lee

We had quite a week of party time in the beautiful village of Malton.  In Roman times it was a cavalry fort and the area is still famous for breeding thoroughbred race horses.    Mares and foals adorn the abundant farm fields surrounding the quaint hamlet with its old world cobbled square and church.  The charm must have rubbed off on Charles Dickens when he was visiting the area as he wrote "A Christmas Carol" while staying in Malton.

 "Everything I do is for my people"

Sacagawea Shoshone Indian Princess

Although we won't be able to share her first Christmas, it was beyond precious to be able to spend some time getting to know our own little princess.  For such a wee bairn (small child) she seemed so perceptive and hammed it up for the cameras perfectly. 

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

—parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme...." 

Unknown

We took some time to explore the seaboard area.  Scarborough is one of the wonderful traditional seaside towns that are scattered along the Yorkshire Coast.  It dates back to the Vikings and in the 1200's King Henry II granted a royal charter for a trading fair to take place on the sands.  The fair continued for 500 years and the legend of the song goes on seemingly forever.  Some historians think the song is a throwback to the plague with the herbs used as a cover for the smell of death.  The dramatic ruins of Scarborough Castle sit atop the headland which was heavily fought over during the Civil War of the 1600's when much of the town was destroyed.  The town evolved from being an east coast fortification into a spa town in the 1700's.  Scarborough's beaches had some of the first 'roll out bathing machines' to preserve a ladies dignity while she took a dip in the therapeutic salt water.  In the last century the railway brought Scarborough its tourist resort glory days.  In modern times Scaborough makes a play for the gray money, advertising heavily to the pensioner coach trips and outings.  The promenade is still filled with nostalgic arcades, amusement parks and pubs of a bygone era.  We decided to take a walk on the other side of the headland in the less illuminated setting of the North Shore.  

"A cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost."

Marion C. Garretty

In true British seaside tradition, we had fish and chips on the prom and enjoyed some of the town's regeneration art.  One sculpture is called "Freddie Gilroy and the Belsen Stragglers".  He was a retired miner and is captured wearing the traditional Yorkshire flat cap.  Freddie was one of the first soldiers at the end of WWII to liberate the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp.  It's an unusual piece created by Ray Lonsdale and loaned to the town.  When the figure was scheduled to be moved elsewhere, Maureen Robinson, a petite old age pensioner stepped in and paid almost 50,000 pounds to have it left right there on the Royal Albert Waterfront Drive.  I am always surprised by the small stories you find along the wayside of life.  Human nature and the remarkable actions of individuals never fails to amaze me.  I felt like a kid sitting on such a tall bench swinging my legs and enjoying a moment of truly gastronomic nostalgia - fish and chips sprinkled with salt and vinegar.  It tasted even more reminiscent of childhood in the cold windy seabreeze.  Tomorrow we would ride the Transpennine Express to York and change for the Northern Rail service to Saltaire and brother Rob.  We were becoming dab hands (experts) on rail travel.

"Cricket is basically baseball on valium."

Robin Williams

Our arrival in Saltaire was timed precisely with a massive downpour and the only thing to do was make a run for it to the nearest pub and wait out the deluge.  The "Boat House Inn" threw out unwanted Noah connotations so I had to steel myself with a pint or two of "Saltaire Blonde".  This particular blonde adventure almost proved too much for me.  The rain subsided long enough for us to venture outside and watch a distant game of cricket resume on the other side of the River Aire.  How the sound of a corkie ball hitting a wooden bat hijacked me off down memory lane I have no idea, but it did.  I mean I've never even been to a cricket match, as I girl I was always regulated to netball at school, in fact I find the whole game quite boring and have no clue of the intricacies of the rules.  The senses of smell and sound are really the most poignant memory triggers of all.  That smell of a certain coconut based suntan oil transports me back to a specific holiday in the sun.  A certain english hairspray aroma delivers me back to a bouffant hairstyle at a sixteenth birthday party.  When newly cut grass and cigar smoke smells are mingled together I can almost hear the roar of Dad's old lawn mower.  Presently it was time to smell the freshly fallen rain on the way back to the Rob's house.

"Don't stand on'th edge o't'cut, mon, th'art teed faw in"

(Don't stand on the edge of the canal, my friend, you are certain to fall in)

The quickest way anywhere in Saltaire seems to involve a walk along the canal.  Which stands to reason considering it used to be the life blood of the town.  The Liverpool Leeds Ship Canal is a man made waterway which stretches 127 miles from Liverpool on the West Coast, over the Pennine Mountains, to Leeds in the East.  Construction began in 1770 and it became the main artery for the mills and coal mines.  The engineering of the locks along its length is a testiment to British ingenuity.  As a kid I was always scared of falling in the canal.  The flat bottomed canal barges don't draw that much water so I guess its only around 6ft.  Yet the water is always dark and there were pike (carnivorous fish that eat ducklings) and snigs (fresh water eels) to terrorize my childhood nightmares.  However walking along the towpath in Saltaire I needn't have worried about the canal, the black clouds and rumbling thunder were much more threatening and ominous.

“Life isn't finding shelter in the storm. It's about learning to dance in the rain.”

Sherrilyn Kenyon

Caught out by the sudden downpour we took shelter under a children's play structure and waited for the calm after the storm.  I don't really mind the rain or getting wet but we didn't have that many clothes with us to change into. Hopefully the weekend would weather would improve as we planned to take a ride on a steam train and explore the Pennine Moors.

"I wanted to invent an engine that could run for ever. 

I could have developed a new train, had I stayed in the railway. 

It would have looked like the AK-47 though."

Mikhail Kalashnikov

The 957 Locomotive was put into service in 1876.  These types of engines earned themselves the nickname "Ironclads" because they were put into service around the same time iron clad warships were battling it out in the American Civil War.  Our journey today would take us from Keighley (pronounced Keethley) to Haworth, through the beautiful Yorkshire countryside.  It was a weird experience at Keighley Station, we stepped off the modern train onto a regular platform then climbed the steps over to the platform bridge and entered the world of yesteryear. The other side of the station is around 100 years behind, carefully preserved with old fashioned ticket booths and hand painted signs.  I fully expected to see Harry Potter wandering around looking for platform 9 and three quarters.   The Worth Valley Railway opened in 1867, the steam locomotives hauled coal up the steep incline to the woolen mills.  The mills relied on coal to create the steam for the looms.  The railway closed with the demise of the textile industry in 1962 and enthusiasts now keep the industrial heritage alive.  Every day the guard blows his whistle to the sound of slamming doors as the steam billows along a station platform frozen in time. 

"There's something about a steam engine. It's alive and it's very animated."

 Ed Dickens

For Josh this was a "Thomas the Tank" experience deluxe.  I have to say it was an enchanting way to bring history alive for all of us. We stepped into the Victorian carriage which was replete with antique suitcases on the overhead rack. The black upholstered cushions, ancient wooden floorboards and leather window sash straps reeked with authenticity.   

“He traces the steam engine all the way back to the tea kettle.”

 Benjamin Disraeli

Uncle Rob was even able to grab a couple of take away cuppas for our journey, although I think the old fashioned tea cans sitting atop of the engine boiler would have tasted better.  As we chugged up past the old sooty mill buildings, the whistle signaled the open track ahead.  The stunning Yorkshire scenery of dry stone walls and rolling green hills were framed by the worn wooden carriage windows.  I imagined I would see the Railway Children waving from the crest of the brow.  This actual train was indeed used in the filming of  "The Railway Children" an adaptation of the children's book by E. Nesbitt.  Lots of other productions have featured this "neck of the woods" (neighborhood).  Pink Floyd filmed the "Wall" here and lots of TV productions such as "Last of the Summer Wine" and "Hound of the Baskervilles" used this setting.

“I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after.”

 Emily Bronte

The line actually ends in Oxenhope but we would alight at Haworth, amidst the Pennine Moors, this is Bronte Country.  Patrick Bronte became the Curate of the church around 1820 and the family lived in the parsonage in Howarth village.  Theirs was a literary family and the girls became poets and novelists.  Charlotte the eldest wrote "Jane Eyre", Emily wrote "Wuthering Heights" and Anne "The Tennant of Wildfell Hall".  The cobbled streets, ancient graveyards and stone houses have scarcely changed since the Bronte sisters roamed the wild and rugged moors 200 years ago.  

“Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights.”

 Emily Bronte

Haworth village is at the top of a steep climb up a cobbled street.  Every year thousands of Bronte pilgrims walk this way up to the parsonage and even further on up to "Top Withins".  This is the farm that is thought to be the setting for Wuthering Heights.  By the time we got to the top of the lane my derriere was definately withering.

“Here is my journey's end, here is my butt;”

William Shakespeare

In England this 9 year old humor is lost in translation.  However, it did get me wondering as to the origin of the word.  Back when villages had to be ready to provide archers for their lord during war time the lane may have lead to the archery butts.  The butt was the archers target.  However, I think it probably eludes to a ploughing term from the days when a serf had butts or strips of land to work for themselves.  Today Haworth is a full on tourist destination embracing all kinds of festivities.  They even have a "Holly Scroggling" ceremony to welcome in the spirit of Christmas.   This was still very much midsummer time though and caught on the breeze were the tell tale notes of accordian music and the clashing of sticks.  

"Be not afeard: The isle is full of noises" William Shakespeare.

"Morris dancing is one of the Great English Mysteries, 

like cricket and warm beer."

Rosemary Edghill"  

Morris has to be the most bizarre representation of all things eccentrically English.  No one seems really sure from whence or where it originates.  The Moresca sword dance was a celebration of the driving out of the Moorish people from Spain in 1492.  The wooden sticks perhaps substituted for the swords.  The bells and the flowers are all as much a part of the tradition as the ale.  We had stumbled upon the annual weekend of several troupes of morris men and women.   

“You know full well as I do the value of sisters' affections: There is nothing like it in this world.”

 Charlotte Bronte“

We wandered along the main street of Howarth and had lunch at the Black Bull.  This is the renowned establishment where Branwell Bronte frequented and indulged his alcoholism and addiction to laudanum.  We merely ordered fish and chips before heading back on the train.  Rob had a date with the band to practice so the kids and I were fortunate to have a private show from very talented musicians.

The painter turns a poem into a painting; the musician sets a picture to music.”

 Robert A. Schumann 

“The person born with a talent they are meant to use will find their greatest happiness in using it.”   

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang Von

Lancashire Lovey

"Through the dancing poppies stole a breeze most softly lulling to my soul."

John Keats

We left from Floriade, Netherlands and travelled back to Fleetwood, UK and found that the flowers were still blooming.  It was time to make sure we spent some quality time with everyone. 

"Fathers carry pictures where their money used to be."

Unknown

It is always a special treat to be able to share Father's Day and this year we enjoyed a carvery lunch at the golf club.  Knott End golf course is over 100 years old and the views are stunning.  The greens sweep down over the headland to the Wyre Estuary River mouth and the coastline of the Irish Sea.  During WWII the club's greens were used to graze sheep.  Barbed wire was rolled out along the shoreline and obstacles placed on the fairway every 200 yards to prevent enemy aircraft from landing.  Fortunately for us the clubhouse has been updated dramatically since the first wooden hut.  Lunch was a stomach stretching, 3 course affair, topped off with a few of the finest glasses of ale Knott End has to offer.  

"Ave got fot goo nair" = I've got for go now = I have to go now

Lancashire is a very special place with a local dialect which is really hard to understand if you're not from there.  I think its a throw back to the Norse influence. When I first travelled overseas, people often asked if I was Polish because the inflexion on my English was so bad.  I really wanted the kids to have a sense of the uniqueness and wonderful things the North West county of Lancashire has to offer.  We also needed to get some exercise after a weekend of eating and drinking so we decided to take a long walk along a section of the Lancashire Coastal Way.  We packed up food and water and with map in hand we started out under beautiful sunny skies.  This public footpath stretches from Freckleton in the South, 137 miles to Silverdale in the North.  Dad decided that the best section for the kids would be from Crimbles Lane to Glasson Dock.  We followed the sea wall for a mile or so then diverted towards the age old farms which are scattered along this remote rural shoreline.  In the spirit of all great child outings we set off at a cracking pace, energized and confident we would reach journeys end in a mere 2 hours.

"Not all those who wander are lost.”
J R R Tolkien

The kids were in charge of orienteering us at first but when we arrived at a field of cows with a suspiciously large looking bull, there was much debate as to which path to take.  Feeling rather hesitant, the kids received the age old question from Pops - "Wossupwithi?" (whats up with thee?).  From my early child hood memories this question was more of a rhetorical warning to just get on with it and stop whinging and whining.  So Jazz and Josh "buttoned it" (became quiet) and successfully skirted past the large black and white Friesians.  

"Cracking good job, Gromit!""Well done! We did it!" 
Wallace and Gromit

We lingered only long enough in the field to take a quick look at the remains of Cockersands Abbey. Built in 1184, the only thing left standing is the chapter house which was the meeting room.  The abbey was dissolved in the 1500's and many of the stones from the ruins were used in the old farmhouses in the region.  Some of the stones were used to build the quay at Sunderland point on the other side of the River Lune.  This windswept village was a stop off point for the cotton and slave ships, the crew could make use of the local hostelries while waiting for the waters of the estuary to rise.  The tide actually cuts off the road leading out to the Golden Ball pub at Snatchems.  This used to be a favorite haunt of the press gangs who would ply a fit young local with alcohol and whisk him away to a life at sea.  

"May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."

Irish Toast

The only whisking we were doing was off to the Victoria Inn. Naturally, our walk concluded in one of the pubs at Glasson Dock before cadging a ride home with Grandma.   

"Crying, Cockles and mussels alive alive oh!"
Molly Malone

I really didn't believe all the hype about the rainiest summer on record, it was a fabulous sunny summer day.  Today was a day for scooters along the promenade and a visit to the water park in Morecambe.  The river Lune flows past the ancient city of Lancaster with its infamous castle and into the Irish Sea at Morecambe.  When the tide goes out over 120 square miles of sand are exposed in Morecambe Bay. The outgoing tide can ebb up to 7 miles from the high water mark and the incoming tide floods in faster than a person can run. It is actually possible to cross the bay on foot although very dangerous if you don't know the path through the perilous quicksand.  Cedric Robinson MBE has been the Queen's official guide across the bay since 1963.  Even so, every year people loose their lives on the shifting sands and fast tides.  In 2004, a group of Chinese cockle pickers were picking the tiny clams at low tide on sand flats.  They were cut of by the incoming tide and 23 people drowned.  Hard to believe a tidal bore could be that fatal in such beautiful scenery.  

“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.”
Roger Miller

The kids made instant friends at the Happy Mount Water Park and I was reminded how long they had been away from school and friends.  We used to come to the park as kids and run riot in the crazy golf and wooden swing boats.  The bowling green and bandstand were still there and it was an instant blast of nostalgia.  Nice to know some things do stay the same.  After the mandatory cuppa tea in the cafe it was time for home.  

"Inspire a Generation"
London 2012 Olympic Motto  

It would take more than a generation to get inspired by the UK weather.  It was hard to believe we were indeed in the same country the next morning.  Black clouds scudded across the sky and the temperature had dropped radically with a cold wind chill.  Our plan was to catch a glimpse of the Olympic torch as it passed through Fleetwood on its long journey to the stadium in London.  Unfortunately, we had to catch the small ferry from Knott End across the river to Fleetwood.  It is only a small stretch of water, but with high winds and driving rain stepping aboard the small craft took quite a bit of bravery.  It felt like a tiny bath tub boat as we set sail in the stormy waters.  We were tossed and buffeted by the tidal currents at the notorious Wyre River mouth, but we managed to make it to the other side (and yes I did pay the ferry man before I got there!).  The gale force winds threatened to blow us over and we took shelter from the piercing barrage of icy raindrops besides the Old Lighthouse Monument.  The whole of the UK was gripped in Olympic fever as the torch made its way from town to town.  I thought it was a wonderful idea with each community choosing well deserving individuals to carry the torch.  Unfortunately for this runner their day in the limelight was clouded by a torrential downpour.  I worried about the Olympic torch, it had symbolically been ablaze as an icon for 2000 years and a Fleetwood downpour was trying to snuff it out.  I need not have worried, the Brits are made of sterner stuff and of course so was the gas powered cresset.

Flora Floriade

"There is nothing like soup. It is by nature eccentric" 

Laurie Colwin

We spent the day traveling from Amsterdam down to Venlo and enjoyed some fine dining at the exceptional hotel Grandma had booked.  In an eccentric bid to eat the local food, I chose the Tesselse vissoep, luckily for me it turned out to be a very tasty fish soup.  After a small shopping spree in downtown Venlo we had an early night to be ready for our big day at Floriade.  

Early the next day, we were welcomed into the entrance of the festival by a huge pair of gardening boots.  The Yanks call them rain boots, the Aussies - gum boots and the Brits of course call them wellies to confuse everyone.  The Duke of Wellington himself designed the original leather boot in the 1800's.  The design was then rubberized when Hiram Hutchinson met Charles Goodyear and applied a vulcanization process to create the first pair of wellies. 

Those boots were made for.....

Wellie wanging - a sport that originates from Upperthong in Yorkshire England.  The aim of the game is to launch the boot off the end of the foot or arm in compliance to rules laid out by the Wellie Wanging Association.  Every year there is a World Wellie Wanging Competition which of course takes place in Upperthong.  Luckily for us no one was about to throw these clompers around.

“When you smiled you had my undivided attention. 

When you laughed you had my urge to laugh with you. 

When you cried you had my urge to hold you. 

When you said you loved me, you had my heart forever.” 

Unknown.

Moving through the first exhibition centre we enjoyed some time at the interactive healthy heart section.  Eventually we were funneled out into the main square and made our way over to the cable cars.  We had a plan to first go to the far side of the exhibition and take the day to work our way back to the beginning.  However, other folk had the same idea and the line was already long when we joined it.  

“I Didn't Ask to Be a Senior Citizen (I Was Drafted)” 

Doug Jensen

As we formed an orderly queue (as all good Brits do) I noticed that there was a large group of pensioners heading our way.  The leader was a portly lady with greying hair.  She headed up the charge of septagenarians as they approached the turnstiles.  The silver set stampeded right past us and up to the front of the line and started to rush the empty cable cars with cries of "Gruppe".  With mouth agape I managed a small squeak of indignation but remembered that many were armed with stout walking sticks which could easily be converted into a Kendo martial arts weapon.  I seethed silently as I watched their sagging jowls form into smirks as they swung out from the concrete station off into the air and to no doubt get first crack at the freshest pastries in the cafe at the other end.  The injustice of their domineering dotage simmered in my narrowed eyes and the full price ticket seared the palm of my hand.

  

“When you seek it, you cannot find it.”

 Zen Proverb 

Perhaps all the traveling in a high density population was starting to wear on my nerves maybe I need to find a Zen garden and chill out for a while.

“The man who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself”

 Friedrich Nietzsche

Maybe I would be better off just breathing some dragon fire?  Unfortunately, we needed a couple of euros to put into the slot to pay for the gas and we were all out of change.

"The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses."

Hanna Rion 

This garden had a feeling of Icelandic de ja vu.  In an attempt to evoke the sensation of touch and sound there was an ejection of hissing steam periodically.  Luckily it was cold water vapor and it came in quite handy to cool off the kids after they ran down the winding path.

"Nothing makes a fish bigger than almost being caught."

Anon.

I was really starting to enjoy the theme of each section.  Coming from the jacuzzi and pool exhibit straight over to the koi pond brought to mind the fish soup from yesterday and it was decided we should stop for lunch.

"From clogs to clogs in three generations."

Lancashire Proverb

I was really starting to enjoy myself wandering the gardens in the warm sunshine although my feet were starting to ache but my arches were way better off than if I'd been in wooden clogs.  In the Netherlands when kids grow out of their clogs there is a tradition to nail them on the outside of the house and use them as flower pots.  

“It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them.”

 Agatha Christie

As the kids began to whine down after our long day I pondered the idea of turning the kids into flower pots instead.

“When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.”

 Franklin D. Roosevelt

It had been a fun and informative day with, but the crowds, the heat and all the walking left us exhausted.  Applying elementary logic, they used the last of their reserves to swing around in the spider's web.  Floriade will accommodate over 2 million visitors by the time it closes its doors in October.  I was glad I had been one of them.