The Twisted Spire, Chesterfield
This was a journey to visit my sister Caroline, her husband Mark and his mother Rosemary on their smallholding in Derbyshire. I realised, once I'd done a few sums, that it was nearly five years since I had travelled north of Bristol. Exciting!.
The train from Redruth was quite empty so found myself listening in on a conversation between strangers. They were talking between the seats, so were very audible. They began by complaining about the hardness of the seats (I have read about them described as ironing boards ...), why there is no point in upgrading to first class as the seats are barely any better and they no longer offer free sandwiches and went on to lament the systemic failure of the education system and teacher stress, the lack of affordable housing in Cornwall and ended by 'It's only going to get worse in the next four and half years ...' . So that was a cheery start.
The Glynn Valley was beautiful in its autumn robes. To my mind it has a touch of Switzerland.
We had to change at Plymouth on to the Crosscountry service to Edinburgh where the seats are slightly squishier but very tightly packed together and the intercom boomingly loud. The main issue is that there are only ever three carriages and the train stops in a lot of big cities. At Birmingham it was like being on the Tube with people standing throughout and between the carriages, some sitting in the large luggage racks or bike spaces and others on the floor. Apparently, 'it's always like this...' May I propose an extra carriage? I sat tight in my seat. Despite the crush, it was still better than going by car and sitting in endless motorway queues which was my last experience.
And after 6 hours, my lovely sister was waiting at Chesterfield train station along with the splendid statue of the engineer George Stephenson. In half an hour we were back at her place, greeting dogs and donkeys, and being put straight to work (to be honest she did all the work, I was on stroking duties).
We all grew up on a smallholding in Cornwall with lots of animals and mucking out. Caroline is the only one of us who has built on this experience to create her own piece of paradise in Derbyshire. Here she nurtures donkeys, rescue dogs and ex battery hens. Mark meanwhile has planted hundreds of mixed native species trees which have matured into a glorious woodland with winding paths, hidden ponds and tufty grass glades. They both also have full time jobs. It's the kind of place where you find that you have been pottering for days and not noticed that you haven't left the premises; why would you want to? There are also spectacular mists that hang in the valleys and one morning a gentle frost.
However, we did go out and it's a great joy to walk in a different place and explore the regional differences: 'squeeze' stiles, brown sandstone walls and buildings, lots of hills, glacial valleys and escarpments. Everywhere trees parading their autumn colours. We spent an enjoyable afternoon in Matlock with its large central park, antique stores and tea shops. I had walked into town through the Lumbsdale industrial ruins with gushing waterfalls not unlike Kennall Vale in Ponsanooth but on a larger scale. Not surprisingly, I got lost en route but this meant I encountered a very friendly group of women walkers who were very funny when it came to the stiles 'They tell us to get out walking to lose weight and then present us with these impossibly narrow stiles'. The Derbyshire challenge? They were as lost as me but by combining our scant knowledge we each found our paths, aided by a dog walker who was enjoying his role as 'tourist guide'. They only came from Belper, a few miles down the road. And what is more, they called me 'Duck'.
Caroline and I visited the spectacular Monsal Head. We wandered along a footpath through several fields and were entertained watching a herd of sheep being shepherded by a landrover and quad bike. Not a sheepdog in sight. I left Caroline to finish her book and took the steep path down to the Victorian viaduct which is now a cycle path to Bakewell. By then we needed tea and cake.
The stay was all too short and in a blink I was waving farewell at Chesterfield for the return home. Then we discovered what a crowded train was really like. The train manager apologised over the over-loud intercom but a train from Leeds had been cancelled so we were two trains in one. We didn't see a train manager until just outside Taunton because they couldn't get through the train. Visiting the toilet was a clambour over boulders of luggage; not to mention the audience as you operate the push button door, get the buttons wrong and it glides open again to the merriment of the young men standing opposite ...
I was lucky to have a seat and met some interesting students returning to Falmouth Uni: one studying Game Design 'we are all neurodiverse in gaming ...' and one studying Music Production who had stood from Nottingham to Plymouth, where we changed trains and finally had space to spread out. 'I will never not book a seat again. Lesson learnt...' he said. This was a Sunday in October - what will it be like at Christmas?
Was also very glad to be reading William Boyd's Restless which kept me well entertained for the journey.
Thank you to Car and Mark for such an enjoyable stay and for the additional photos.
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