The Boys are Back in Town

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Woolly says - Many opportunities come into my world and none are better than being able to catch up with my bestie Sion, combined with visiting a new place, what's not to enjoy! As the car wheels lapped up the miles and the sun streamed into the car I thought it was time to fill the women in our our destination. Derby gained city status in 1977, a former home to the Romans who called the then town, Derventio, it was a place that grew rapidly in the industrial era and with the advent of the railway system it became a centre of the British rail industry. To make the most of our time we had decided to arrive the night before, having found our lodgings and left the car safely parked I put Zoe in charge of the maps as we headed into the centre. The roads were lined with Georgian buildings with there central front door and large square structures, with modern shops breaking up the architecture, above the shop frontages were elegant buildings none more so than the cities costa outlet which sported a white facing with ornate decoration and carvings celebrating three of the cities children. Most notable and for me the only name I recognised instantly was that of Florence Nightingale, the Lady with the Lamp. Miss Nightingale, who lived near Matlock, is credited with reforming nursing in the mid 19th Century with her papers on hospital planning and organisation which are said to have had a profound effect on nurse's training in England and throughout the world. She is probably best known for her work during the Crimean war where she considered not just the medical side of things to be important but the emotional well being of her patients helping them to write home, read letters and talk about there loved ones so far away. Having taken some pictures my tummy let out a large grumble and I wondered at what point I might get fed.




We were all feeling hungry but with so many choices surrounding us no one wanted to make the decision, having seen an international buffet a few streets back I put forward the suggestion that we wouldn't have to choose one type of food but could sample all that we might want.




Woolly says - Well she didn't have to ask twice and as we mounted the steps into the restaurant my trunk picked up the delightful smells of roast beef, curry and Chinese with a faint trace of chocolate gateaux. Leaving the women to sort out the liquid side of things I happily started to sample my way through the delights on offer. Two hours in and I had to admit defeat, I felt that I had doubled in size and as I sat in the trifle licking my paws I wondered if they might provide me with a doggy bag for a snack later!




Our walk back to the accommodation allowed us to walk off some of the excess and for my small friend to leave a trail of cream, black bean sauce and ketchup behind us, it looked as though the wet wipes would be needed.




Woolly says - The morning sunlight woke me and as I lay under the warm covers trying to remove a prawn from my ear I couldn't help but smile, with only a few hours to go before the best sheep in England arrived I just hoped that he would enjoy the place I had chosen to meet. We retraced our steps into the centre pausing for a small breakfast to top up from the night before, I wanted to check out the cathedral. Derby Cathedral, known as the Cathedral of All Saints, is a grade I listed building which was promoted from parish church status into a cathedral in 1927. The original church of All Saints was founded in the mid 10th century as a royal collegiate church, dedicated to All Saints. The main body of the church as it stands today is a Georgian rebuilding by James Gibbs, completed in 1725. with the retrochoir being added in the 20th century. Unlike many structures of this kind there was no grassy area surrounding it and it sat between many of the high street branded shops, as I pushed open the heavy door and was greeted by a light and airy interior with two modern stained glass windows which were in a sharp contrast to the wrought iron gates and the wooden pews which seemed to come from a much earlier era. The walls were lined with memorials with plaques and busts decorating the gleaming white walls and large effigies of the deceased. Having expected more a of a gothic feel the place felt very modern and well tended. As the bell in the tower bonged the half hour I prodded Jo with my tusks reminding her that we had places to go and people to see. I trotted quickly along the road , my excitement was building, would Sion have changed? Would we run out of conversation? Would he turn up?!




We sat on the steps of the Pickford Museum watching the furry one bouncing up and down in anticipation, as he suddenly shot off down the road squeaking loudly we had to assume that the sheep had arrived.




Woolly says - As we settled the humans down with tea and biscuits in the small lobby, Sion and I gabbled away to each other, tales of our travelling adventures and the frustration of having humans that stopped us from doing as we liked, neither of us came up for air. An hour or so passed in delightful conversation, as we paused for breath in our discussions on the best toilets we have seen over the last months a kindly lady interrupted us and informed us that if our interests lay in latrines that we would be delighted with the bathroom on the third floor, without further ado we started our tour of the museum. Pickford's House, at No 41 Friar Gate Derby, is a Georgian town house built by the prominent architect Joseph Pickford in 1770 for his own family, in 1977 it was upgraded from Grade II to Grade I listed building. Having been purchased in 1982 by Derby City Council, who failed to pay enough attention to its Grade I status having removed chimneys, floors and walls without applying for permission taking away some of the most wonderful facets of the building. Starting in the morning room even though it was afternoon, we admired the lovely greens that had been used on the walls before moving into the hallway which had a simple but decorative ceiling and coveing. The drawing room was light and airy although the settee's didn't look remotely comfortable, the grand dining room was everything a Georgian house should have with a lovely embossed fireplace and large square windows. Down a flight of stairs we raced and into the former kitchen and scullery, a huge dresser held lovely blue and white plates while the table groaned under the weight of cakes, I had just taken a paw stride nearer to the possibility of a snack when a strange bell started ringing, Jo grabbed me roughly by the tail and pulled me from under the rope as the noise stopped, giving me one of her stares, I nudged Sion and suggested that we head higher into the house to find our treasure.




As the boys raced from room to room Zoe, Jen, Glenn and myself took a more leisurely approach to viewing the exhibition that was centred around the famous author Agatha Chrisite. With props from her films and tv series, paintings of the actors that have played her detectives over the years and pretty much every book she ever written there was lots to see.




Woolly says - The upper storeys were less Georgian in contrast to the lower floors, and having little interest in the bedrooms having already been told not to jump on the beds we eagerly sought the bathroom to see if it lived up to expectations. As a door creaked open and green wall tiles meet our eyes our excitement knew now bounds as we spotted the loveliest toilet ever. With flowers decorating both inside and outside of the bowl and a large wooden seat, my friend and I sat wondering how many bottoms had graced the throne over the years. The bath provided another item of interest with an early shower over the lion clawed bath, shivering at the thought of being bathed again we patted each other on the back and galloped into the next room which was filled with cabinets of toy theatres. From a private collection they displayed some fine mini stages with paper and wooden puppets as the stars of the show, each one beautifully painted and decorated they were works of art. We reached the top of the house and having looked into the servants rooms we found a exhibition of needlework entitled, Who do you think you are?, the stitching was incredible and the stories wonderful and colourful, it made a fitting end to the museum. As they say all good things must come to an end and as we said our final goodbyes and made promises to meet again soon, I waved my paw as my friend disappeared into the traffic, hopefully it won't be so long before we can meet again and discover more toilets and delights.

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