Lancaster Music Festival 2023

Shaggy Inkcap.

Okay, the Shaggy Inkcap was not one of the acts from the Lancaster Music Festival. This photo is the sole representative from our habitual Sunday walk around Jenny Brown’s Point, the weekend before the festival.
I neglected to mention that my previous post shaded me into last October. So I’m now officially nearly ‘only’ six months behind!

Mid-October brought the aforementioned Music Festival, one of the highlights of my year, and, as has recently become a tradition, a gaggle of visitors to share the fun with us.

Peloton at Kanteena.

I broke with my previous self-imposed rule about not going to gigs on a school night and went to the Kanteena on the Thursday night. Local band Peloton opened (a ska version of ‘Psycho-Killer’ anyone?) They’re marvellous and we saw them again, later in the weekend. Next up were a sort of Latin rock-band from New York (who’s name escapes me) followed by perennial festival favourites The Uptown Monotones, who are from Graz in Austria, but who seem to have made Lancaster their second home.

Uptown Monotones at Kanteena.

As you can see, it wasn’t exactly thronged; unlike the rest of the weekend, when just about every venue was heaving. I think the festival may, to a certain extent, be a victim of its own success.

Siqian Li at work

On the Friday evening, I didn’t even need to leave work to begin my musical excursion. Over the weekend, classical pianist Siquian Li was playing all of the best pianos in Lancaster. Apparently, the very best is the one in our main hall at work. I had a front row seat and it was spellbinding. So good, in fact, that I persuaded our group to start with her performance at the Storey Institute the next day.
UF was the first of our visitors to arrive on the Friday evening and once we’d met up we went to see…other stuff? I can’t remember now! Maybe we finished the night with the Uptown Monotones again at the Storey? Or the Gregson? Or was that another year? Oh dear. I can’t really remember many of the bands I saw at Reading Festival either, but that was at least 30 years ago. I’m sure we enjoyed ourselves anyway.

On to Saturday…

Across the fields to the railway station.

Away from the Numbers at Kanteena.

Harri Larkin at Lancaster Castle. Excellent.

Lancaster Castle.

Uptown Monotones in Lancaster Priory.

A view over Lancaster.

I do know that on the Saturday evening some of us took some time out from the music to watch Alfie Moore, of ‘It’s a Fair Cop’ fame at The Grand Theatre. Very good he was too.
TBH and I had also recently seen Bridget Riley at the Grand (I think). And at some point we saw Daliso Chaponda rehearsing new material for a Radio 4 show in a smallish room above the Borough Pub in Lancaster. Both of them were hilarious. Neither of these were that weekend, but since I didn’t take photos at either event I now have now clear idea about when they happened!

Reggie Mental at Kanteena.

Reggie Mental are another local ska band with a nice line in off-the-wall covers, ‘Inbetween Days’ for example, although they mostly cover late seventies British ska bands’ songs. The Kanteena was absolutely rammed for their performance.

A date for your diaries: this year’s festival is the 10th to the 13th of October. I’ve no idea of the line-up, but no doubt lots of local favourites will be there and hopefully some of the acts which seem to travel every year to entertain us.

Raby Castle

My in-laws with their grandsons.

We had one more opportunity to meet up with my brother-in-law and his family and drove to Raby Castle, which is near Crook in County Durham, where they were staying with TBH’s parents, who also joined us for the day.

My in-laws with their grandsons, again.

Since we first met, TBH has been telling me how fabulous Raby Castle is, but somehow we’ve never got around to visiting it together.

Raby castle, courtyard.

It seems to have avoided being ‘slighted’ during the Civil War, the fate of many English Castles, so it’s still in a good state of repair and is much a stately home as a castle.

I think this was the butler’s room.

Each of the rooms was curated by a member of staff, all of whom were keen to answer questions and to tell stories about the house, it’s former occupants and ghostly residents. It was certainly an enjoyable venue for a family day out on a grey and damp day.

A room with…

…a fancy ceiling.

Dining room.

Guns galore.

The recently restored state coach.

A huge room.

A griffon?

The family chapel.

A lion on the end of a pew.

And the whippet (?) opposite.

Lots of shiny pots, kettles and jelly molds in the kitchen.

Raby Castle exterior.

Here, There and Everywhere

Dr A, W, M, B and S on the Balancing Tree in the Ring of Beeches.

Our Peak District trip was timed to fit in with a visit from my brother-in-law, Dr A and his family. We didn’t have them for long and were keen to pack a lot in. First of all, a walk in Eaves Wood.

Dr A and B on the same branch in 2008.

Silverdale from Castlebarrow.

TBH and Dr S at The Cove.

W has been clambering on the rocks, and swimming in the mud.

Since our American relatives needed to be back in County Durham, we decided to head that way and to rendezvous by Brougham Castle. Now, note: Brougham Castle, not Brough Castle which is nearby. Since I’d been very careful to point out the similarity of names and locations, we knew as we waited near Brougham Castle that they couldn’t possibly have made the mistake of going to Brough instead. After all, maps are pretty much Dr A’s area of professional expertise.

Brougham Castle and the River Eamont.

With a little time to kill whilst Dr A drove his family the short distance back from Brough to Brougham, we decided to detour slightly to have a peek around Brougham Hall, which is free and always worth a gander.

Brougham Hall.

Brougham Hall.

Brougham Hall, the Chancellor’s Den.

There’s more about the Hall and the Castle, and cute photos of the kids when they were little, from a previous visit here.

Once we were reunited, we drove to Little Salkeld, intending to have a walk to Lacy’s Caves. The path has been officially closed when we’ve done that walk in the past (one of those walks here). It still is. But now there’s a big sign displayed to that effect, rather than a scrappy bit of paper tacked to a telegraph pole. We decided to head up the road a little way to Long Meg stone circle instead.

Looking to the Lake District from the new car park by Long Meg and her Sisters.

A short walk to the stones.

There may be a new, and quite substantial, car park, but we still had the circle almost to ourselves.

Some of the Sisters.

It’s an amazing place and it astonishes me that it’s not more well known. (There’s more details about the stones in this post from our first visit in 2011.)

More of the stones...

…which clearly need to be climbed on.

Long Meg.

Cup and ring mark. I think.

Long Meg, with her sisters behind.

More stones.

And more.

Dark skies over the Pennines.

Another view of the stones.

TBH chilling out.

Family pose.

Heald Brow.

Later, when we were home again, and since it was a nice evening, I was out for a local stroll.

Sunset from Jack Scout.

Another busy day!

Newcastle Tour

Lots of bridges over the Tyne.

B had an open day at Newcastle University. Much to his delight, we all chose to go with him. He was only allowed one guest, and TBH bagged that spot, so Little S and I met A and went sightseeing around the town.

Another bridge and the Baltic art gallery.

The curvy glass building is a music venue – The Sage, Gateshead.

Visiting the Baltic.

Little S has been taking me to task – apparently he feels that I have unfairly branded him a Philistine on the basis of one incident many, many years ago. He may have a point. Although he is sticking by his opinion of Miro. Anyway, he was quite happy to have a gander in the Baltic and even indulged me again later on, as you’ll see.

Tyne bridges again from the viewing platform at the Baltic.

The Procession, Hew Locke.

The exhibit which has left a lasting impression was this huge display of near life-size figures.

More art.

Newcastle castle.

This was far from my first visit to Newcastle, but somehow it has escaped my notice that Newcastle actually has a castle. Seems obvious that it would, with hindsight.

Newcastle castle.

Newcastle castle.

A was keen to take us a vegan cafe she likes. It was very good. Even Little S evidently enjoyed his meal and he’s usually an unapologetic carnivore.

The weather had been good when we left home, but then we’d been in the cloud as we drove over the Pennines and it remained foggy after that. We’d arrived in Newcastle to find it cold and drizzly. Fortunately, whilst we were in the cafe it brightened up considerably.

Our view through the cafe window.

Flower bed at the Uni.

Part of the University.

The Hancock Museum.

Fossil.

The Hancock Museum was another one of those places, stuffed to the rafters with a disparate hodge-podge of wonderful stuff.

Surely ancient Egyptian?

I liked the shiny clock.

Newcastle city centre.

The very fetching Central Arcade.

Grainger Market.

Monument.

Art at the Laing Art Gallery.

Art at the Laing Art Gallery.

We were killing time to a certain extent, before a meet-up with the kids’ grandparents for a meal in a very busy Spoons near the uni. It was only when we had run out of time that Little S remembered to tell me that he wanted to go shopping for a suit for his forthcoming prom. Doh!

B was impressed with Newcastle. It’s a good job that I was too, since it seems likely that we will have a few more visits to the North-East over the next few years.

A Trip to Tynemouth

Winter Aconites again.

Clearly, this is not Tynemouth – a couple of photos first from yet another Arnside Knott walk first. I think the decision to keep coming this way was heavily motivated by the desire to revisit this spectacular patch of Winter Aconites, which by now had been joined by a number of Snowdrops too.

Arnside Knott.

For February half-term, we were joined by my parents, and by my brother and his kids. Great to see everyone. Sadly, I seem to have been utterly rubbish at taking family photos.

Anyway, A was disappointed that she might miss the gathering, so we all went up to the North-east to visit her. She had lectures, so we arranged to meet her in Tynemouth for lunch.

Tynemouth.

I’ve been to nearby Whitley Bay before, but not, I don’t think, Tynemouth. I was impressed. Although it was bitterly cold. Icy wind off the North Sea and all that.

Tynemouth Station.

While the others looked for somewhere to eat, and to have a pre-lunch coffee, mainly to get out of that biting wind, I went to meet A at the Metro station. I was very taken by the Victorian station building and it’s vast glass-roofed platforms.

Tynemouth Station bridge.

I arrived with plenty of time to spare, a bit of a departure for me, so had time to explore…

On the bridge.

Ukrainian flag colours, origami, peace crane display.

Tynemouth arches.

Tynemouth Castle.

We didn’t look around the castle or the priory which share the headland, but finding that the wind had abated a little, we did have a wander along the coast towards Cullercoats.

Another view of the castle and priory.

Long Sands.

And what did we do for the rest of the week? Well, this…

Clarke’s Lot. Or Sharp’s Lot. I can never remember which field is which.

…photo from a short wander I took with my brother might give some idea of what the weather was generally like. Dreich*.

It didn’t improve until shortly after our visitors set-off on their homeward journey. The weather here seems to make a habit of being perverse like that.

* Scotland’s favourite word apparently, at least it was in 2013, narrowly beating glaikit to the top spot.

Aysgarth Falls and Castle Bolton

Wensleydale. Penhill and Height of Hazely in the background.

Every year, at the start of December, I get a Monday off work. Actually, this year, it was the last Monday in November. It’s intended as a Christmas shopping break, which is anathema to me, and I habitually moan about it, but despite my indifference to the idea, since the inception of this one day holiday, I’ve had a string of great days out.

This year was no exception. Happily, TBH, being part-time, gets a Monday off every fortnight and this fell on one of those Mondays. So she had transferred the booking she made for a night away, to celebrate our wedding anniversary, to the Sunday night after Storm Arwen.

We stayed at the Wheatsheaf at Carperby, in the Yorkshire Dales, which was very welcoming and comfortable, with nice beer and lovely food (if somewhat limited for vegans). On the Sunday evening we sat in the bar watching the Ladies’ Darts Team play a match and played cribbage ourselves, before retiring to our four-poster bed. (Don’t think I’ve slept in one before – can’t say I noticed any difference!)

On the Monday, the landlady was happy for us to leave our car in their carpark whilst we went for a walk, so we set-off from there, across the snowy fields and through the snowy woods…

…to Aysgarth Falls on the River Ure.

I don’t think I’ve ever been here before, which given that it’s about a forty-five minute drive from home is a bit of an oversight.

Part of High Force.

Another part of High Force.

High Force from Yore Bridge.

Middle Force.

River Ure – looking upstream from Lower Force.

Part of Lower Force.

River Ure – looking downstream from Lower Force.

Lower Force.

TBH left me at Middle Force, because she didn’t want to watch me scuttling around on the snow covered banks taking photos – she was worried I would fall in. When I eventually tried to catch her up, I couldn’t work out where she’d gone. It turned out she’d found a rocky little scramble which took us down to the bank of the river. A broad shelf of limestone, wet, icy, snowy, uneven – essentially an accident waiting to happen – gave a route back up toward the falls.

Could I resist temptation? Could I ‘eck!

Lower Force.

The steep, rocky bank here was dripping wet and where the water was running down the rocks anything below was liable to have acquired a thick coating of ice. Twigs….

Even blades of grass…

Lower Force – from as close as I managed to get.

The treacherous route back. Amazingly, I managed not to fall over. Or in.

From Lower Force, we climbed away from the Ure and across the fields towards the village of Castle Bolton, which is dominated by Bolton Castle.

Our first view of Bolton Castle.

Getting closer.

Nearly there.

In Castle Bolton.

I’m almost as much a sucker for castles as I am for waterfalls, and so was once again snapping away like a loon.

St. Oswald’s Church.

Bolton Castle is remarkably well preserved for an English Castle, most of which were ‘slighted’ during the Civil War. I shall definitely have to come back to have a proper look around at some point. And a peek in the church too.

Wensleydale.

There’s a very direct route from Castle Bolton via West Bolton back to Carperby. The wind had picked up and it was now bitterly cold. I really should have stopped and put more layers on.

The tea rooms at Yore Bridge had not yet opened when we got there, and Castle Bolton didn’t have anywhere serving refreshments (though I think the castle has a restaurant in the tourist season), so once we got back to Carperby, we drove to Hawes for a very late cafe lunch, then hurried home to meet the boys from the train.

Not only had I enjoyed the walk enormously for its own sake, I was also pleased that I’d had no obvious Covid fatigue hangover, and I’d had no problems with my Plantar Fasciitis. I’ve had issues with it for years, on and off, but recently it had been much worse. I’d seen a physio who had me working on a programme of stretches and I was pleased that they were seemingly having a positive impact. (And continue to do so.)

Walney Island to Ulverston

At the ‘start’.

Another section of the Moecambe Bay Cycleway. B deigned to join TBH and I. We caught the train to Barrow, planning to cycle back towards home, possibly as far as Grange – which turned out to be more than a bit optimistic. We were lucky with the train – at Grange we saw other cyclists being turned away, which must have been very frustrating if you had already bought a ticket. The top photo shows TBH and B at the northern terminus of the MBC, on the western coast of Walney Island – so although this is ‘the start’ we had already cycled here from Barrow Station.

Common Mallow.

A wind farm out to the west.

I’d been a little worried that the route through Barrow might be a bit hard to find, but I needn’t have been concerned, since it was well sign-posted.

Barrow Docks.

The Pacific Grebe, seen here, is a nuclear fuel carrier, perhaps not so surprising given the proximity of Sellafield power station to Barrow.

Black Combe and Western Fells across Cavendish Dock.

Off-road cycling between Roosecote Sands and Cavendish Dock.

It was a gloomy day, but the views were fine and, at this point, the cycling was both off-road and flat and so nice and easy.

Drinker Moth caterpillar (I think).

Rampside Leading Light – The Needle.

We’ve often driven past ‘The Needle’ before, usually on our way to Roa Island and/or Piel Island (where they’re currently on the lookout for a new ‘King and Queen’ or, more prosaically, tenants for the local pub – if you’re interested). The Needle is the only surviving leading light of 13 built in the Barrow area in 1875 to guide shipping.

Looking across Cartmel Sands.

B was, as ever, ‘starving’ – he is a growing lad after all – and was very pleased to spot this little kiosk. TBH and I had cups of tea, whilst he tucked into half a dozen freshly fried doughnuts.

Doughnut stop.

Shortly after this stop, we turned inland and followed an undulating route through a series of tiny villages. Once again, I ought to have taken more photos than I did – of the large duck pond in the middle of Leece for example, or of Gleaston Watermill: not to worry, it just means I shall have to go back, perhaps when the sun is shining. I did feel compelled to stop to photograph Gleaston Castle:

Gleaston Castle.

Built in the 12th Century and possibly never finished, the castle is not open to the public and is in a parlous state apparently.

The view from Birkrigg Common to the Lake District Fells.

We called in at Conishead Priory, now a Buddhist meditation centre, hoping to buy lunch, but settled for drinks since, bizarrely, TBH couldn’t get anything vegan. Well, B did have some sandwiches, but he is a growing lad after all. MapMyWalk tells me that there were roughly 300m of ascent on this route, which doesn’t seem like that much, but I found it exhausting. When B declared that his knee was playing him up, I was only too pleased to magnanimously concede that we could cut our route short and catch the train home if he insisted.

We haven’t as yet attempted the next section of the MBC, between Ulverston and Grange. On the map, it looks far hillier than any of the parts we have done to date. One for next summer – but perhaps we shall have to build up to it.

Following J-Dawg down the Dordogne

An idyllic lunch stop.

So, once again, we rented canoes and kayaks and paddled down the Dordogne. It’s the obvious thing to do frankly, and it’s hard to think of a finer way to spend a day.

TJS, TSS, LS and TJF take a dip in the Dordogne.

We stopped for a swim in this spot last time we visited the Dordogne, and I was very much looking forward to doing the same again. I’d brought goggles because I was confident that there would plenty of fish to see in this stretch of water, and I wasn’t disappointed. As on our previous visit, I followed a large fish which had barbels around it’s mouth (a Barbel then?) which was also being followed by around a dozen smaller, stripy fish, possibly Perch?

B realises that his kayak will double up as a stand-up paddle board.

Most of the party opted for solo kayaks, but our friend J-Dawg (who has been burdened, by her daughters, with a whole host of nicknames) was concerned that she would find herself continually going around in circles and getting left behind, so I joined her in a larger canoe. Now, I’m hardly an expert paddler, but I can generally get a boat to travel in something approaching a straight line, ironically using something called a J-stroke, or my inexpert approximation to same. To be honest, the canoe was very comfortable and an excellent choice.

TBF on the left, the raft is the younger members of our party.

But one result of this arrangement is that I have a lot of photos of the view downriver which feature J-Dawg’s life-jacket and fetching pink bucket-hat in the foreground.

TBH looking very happy.

Roque-Gageac

B in more conventional canoeing style.

Château de la Malartrie

Castelnaud-la-Chapelle

Château de Beynac

All-in-all, a fantastic day’s outing.

Back to Camping Maisonneuve

Looking down on the campsite – our tents are in the trees, right of the buildings.

Long-suffering readers of this blog may remember that in 2018 we holidayed in the Dordogne and Tarn valleys in France with some old friends. This summer, we repeated the trip. Once again, the whole thing was meticulously planned and booked by The Shandy Sherpa, whose attention to detail is staggering. For example: scoping all of the Aires on the drive down, in advance, using Google Maps to see whether they had large enough parking spaces for cars towing trailer-tents. As they say, the devil is in the detail, and Andy’s careful planning ensured that the whole trip went smoothly in potentially trying circumstances. Awesome.

Castelnaud-la-Chapelle

This trip is a very laidback affair with certain key elements – a morning walk to the bakers; plenty of reading; meals together, often revolving around a barbecue; games of Kubb and Mölkky, usually continuing when darkness made accurate throwing next to impossible; lots of swimming, canoeing and floating down the river on inflatable rings; and short, steep walks up to the limestone cliffs above the campsite.

Castelnaud-la-Chapelle seen from hills above the Céou valley.

TBH in a cave mouth.

‘Little’ S finds a ‘window’.

TBF had a potentially nasty fall in one of the caves, but, sensibly, used Little S to break her fall. Fortunately, neither were hurt badly, just somewhat shaken.

We’d brought three different hammocks with us, which all got a lot of use. They all belong to TBH, presents I’ve bought her over the years. Why does she need three? Because that way, there’s at least a chance that the kids will leave her in peace in one of them, whilst they argue over the remaining two. We probably need another one!

Upstream of the campsite, there’s an excellent swimming hole; downstream there’s a bridge over another deep spot – perfect for jumping in. Trips, with or without inflatables, between either of those pools and the one by the campsite were a significant feature of the trip. Of course, we could and did do the whole trip from the upstream pool to the downstream bridge, but the Céou is surprisingly cold, so that trip was a bit long for comfort.

GR64, one of the amazing network of long-distance paths in France, passes close to the campsite. On a couple of occasions when the others were floating downstream, I took off for an out and back wander along the route. It was pleasant woodland walking, with occasional tantalising views of the Dordogne valley…

Les Jardins de Marqueyssac

TBH and I visited the gardens on our last visit.

Château de Beynac

Chateau de Bonaguil

We did occasionally stray a little further afield, including a trip out to this magnificent castle. It had drawbridges, towers, winding staircases, caves below, lizards on the walls and even a bat hanging from the ceiling in one of the rooms.

I didn’t see the montgolfières as often this trip as I did last time, but I did frequently hear them flying overhead early in the mornings whilst I was still tucked up in bed. This photo shows the beginning of an afternoon flight which was very dramatic since the balloons flew very low and continually flirted with a collision with a tree, without ever quite hitting one.

Pain au Noix et Pain de Campagne.

Medemblik

The last day of our European odyssey. We’d spent the day before at one of those swimming pools where nobody actually swims because they’re too busy swooping down slides, messing about with inflatables, or waiting for the wave or current machines to perform their magic again. Not usually my cup of tea, but the kids enthusiasm was infectious and we all had a great time.

Now we’d had to leave our accommodation quite early, but didn’t need to board the ferry until late afternoon. Time to squeeze in a little more sight-seeing.

We’d already visited Medemblik a few times, mainly for groceries. We’d also been for a meal – Trip Advisor had recommended a bar as the best place for vegan food locally. When we arrived it was to discover that the only vegan option was a Caesar salad. Without the chicken. Or the parmesan. Or the dressing, which contains anchovies. So – a bowl of lettuce. For sixteen Euros. Fortunately, the Italian restaurant next door was much more accommodating.

As you can see, Medemblik has a castle.

It also has a marina and a complex of harbours and lots and lots of boats, which made me very happy.

Many of the boats were leaving the harbours for the IJsselmeer, which seemed like quite a complex process, requiring some careful manoeuvring and a plenty of consideration for other sailors.

Frankly, I could have watched the boats going in and out all day.

Holland really does seem to be absolutely criss-crossed by canals. Both of the properties we rented in the Netherlands neighboured small canals. It also felt as though almost everybody had a boat of some kind.

This prevalence of waterways and passion for boats means that driving anywhere requires a fair deal of patience, as lifting bridges seem to be the norm, even on very major roads.

I have a feeling that this rather odd building might have housed some sort of gallery or museum.

A sculpture to honour the sailors and fishermen of Medemblik’s past.

One last trip-advisor outbreak of muppetry to report: too tight-fisted to book breakfast on the ferry, we took a convoluted route through South Shields to a recommended vegan cafe to find that not only was it not vegan, but that it didn’t even exist. After another interminable drive, the second recommendation provided an excellent vegan breakfast, I’m told. At lunchtime. Better yet, the boys and I found a storming greasy spoon just around the corner without any online assistance.

That being said, not all online advice is bogus, and I can heartily recommend the area around Medemblik and Enkhuizen.