Showing posts with label grasmere. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grasmere. Show all posts

Wednesday, 27 December 2023

Grasmere, June 1983

June 1983. We took a trip up to Grasmere in the Lake District. At the time I was supplying photographs to numerous magazines and one of them that regularly featured my work was a small local magazine called Lakescene, based on Cumbria and particularly the Lake District National Park.

The Lake District is said to be England's wettest area and certainly, no matter what the weather was like around 40 miles south (64 kilometres) as the crow flies (and almost double that for a car journey), there was no guarantee of good weather by the time you reached the Lakes.

And so it proved as we reached the car park at Grasmere under cloudy skies and chilly temperatures on this particular day. But dull weather doesn't necessarily mean that it's impossible to take decent photographs and indeed as most magazines were still only just starting to use colour for photographs other than on their front cover (and Lakescene used black and white exclusively) the added drama of even wet days could look quite attractive and were certainly not unrepresentative!

Dove Cottage was the home of poet William Wordsworth and his sister, Dorothy, from 1799 until May 1808 when the former inn became too small following William's marriage to Mary Hutchinson. As William lived with his sister, so Mary moved her own sister into Dove Cottage and then with three children being born within four years, they moved out in search of larger accomodation.

Grasmere Church. It is dedicated to Saint Oswald, the 7th century King of Northumbria who was said to have preached on the site. The present church dates from the 1300s however. It still holds an annual Rushbearing Festival. In fact the floor of the church remained earthen until 1841. Burials under this floor were only stopped in 1823 so regular replacement of some sort of floor covering preferably a pungent sweet-smelling one would have been very necessary.

It is in the churchyard, however, that we find the graves of William Wordsworth and his wife, plus those of his sister, Dorothy and others of his family.

William Wordsworth alongside some of his friends, Coleridge and Richard Southey became known as The Lake Poets and with them he brought the Romantic Age to English literature. He was Poet Laureate 1843 to 1850 having at first refused the position due to his age until Prime Minister Robert Peel told him that he need write no new work and he remains the only Poet Laureate without an official work published during his tenure.

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Tuesday, 26 April 2011

My Petrol Poem

We might have gone out this weekend
If petrol had not been so dear
We used to go all over the country
Now we stay at home or quite near

We used to go searching for circles of stone
For hillforts or something to see
But now we stay home doing hobbies
Or go for a walk, her and me

Here's our car on the left up at Thirlmere
The one on the left nearly black
Even then motoring wasn't so easy
Cos the darn thing broke down on t'way back

On that day we visited Grasmere as well
And saw Ambleside, Bowness and such
We might have gone out too this weekend
If petrol hadn't cost quite so much...


Large versions of the photos: Castlerigg stone circle, Thirlmere, Grasmere

Saturday, 13 November 2010

More Grass? Mere Grass? Grasmere!!!

Son-in-law Eddie has been down to cheer Blackpool on at West Ham today so Gill decided to relive the days of outings with Mum and Dad! We went up to Keswick and had lunch then walked along the market stalls and I went to my favourite antiques shop for a look round. Sadly he's given over stocking old 78rpm records but it's still a great shop to look round!

We spent all that time in Keswick but the lens cap didn't come off the camera until we were on our way back and called in at Grasmere around 3 o'clock this afternoon. The sun was low by then and conditions were spot on!

Gill and Fran are shown here about to drop "Pooh sticks" over the bridge into the river. Apparently I should have known what this was all about - racing sticks down the current... Alas when Gill said "You have to pick up a Pooh stick!" I got my hands bit messy...

Not only that, but as the ladies' two Pooh sticks floated off down river, mine sank straight away!

By the time we had ambled down to the next bridge, the two sticks had long gone by. They said it was my fault, stopping to scrub hands on tufts of grass, but I think it was just sour grapes... Anyway you can imagine the triumph of watching my effort rolling along the river bed as we looked down...

Herdwicks. "Heard of wicks? Course I've heard of wicks... What have candles to do with this though?"

Baa baa brown sheep,
From rolling in the poo,
I'm not a sheep you twit,
I'm a cow - moo!

Sorry - but I always used to make up songs for Gill, I thought it was called for...

There you are - we were out for a full day but the blog post came out of just a half an hour stop just before it started to go dark!

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