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Published: October 17th 2011
Such a beautiful place
I have not told you how much I love this Old Farmhouse at Roystone Grange. I am totally happy, secure, and safe here. I wake in the morning and think, “This is Home….” There is something about 16 inch deep rock walls, whitewash, and raw timber that makes my heart sing. It also helps that there is indoor plumbing. Actually, it really, really helps a lot even though English washers and dryers are totally substandard….sorry, but it is true. Our “Heavy Load” washer dryer combination can handle about what one person would wear in one day….So, we are planning our jaunts around loads of laundry.
But today we have many travel bits and pieces to attend to. Yesterday our cell phone was blocked, so we think we need to “top up” our account, and we need cash as credit cards are not always welcome, and we need to buy petrol. So, instead of chasing ancestors, as we had planned—and actually it would have been a 2 to 3 hour trip either way to the local genealogical libraries- we go on to Ashbourne which has most of our needed traveler conveniences. Despite the rather low life population in
the parking lot (“You ken’t say that to me…” and she trots off to bash him with her purse…followed by the two shaved headed men on bikes arranging to meet and make a drug deal….) everyone in the local Sainsbury’s (an English chain store) is quite lovely. We drive to Tissington for lunch—truly a lovely little town- where we buy Beet Root Chutney from an elderly lady. We thought she had a store and walked into her house….ooops! She was quite lovely and took our money rather than putting it into the cash box she had left next to her preserves…Stupid Americans. Does anyone have any idea what one does with beet chutney?
We arrive back at the beloved Old Farm House at Roystone Grange to find that nothing we have put in to wash and dry is even a bit more than soaked and steaming. Now we are doing Laundry Kamikaze…..small loads, extra spin, and no slack time. But, as dinner cooks in the oven, we take a lovely sunset walk. It is breathstakingly beautiful. We follow the “easy trail” that cuts diagonally up the hillside to the crest. We arrive just as the sun is setting; glorious. The
new fall light turns the sheep below us in their fields to Easter Egg hues: peach, blue, and tawny. We stay at the top of the hill until the light is dimming sufficiently to make our return treacherous. We will be leaving in the morning and we linger as long as we can, finally descending into the farm itself: hello to the horse and the chickens.
We eat a lovely home-cooked meal—such a pleasure when we have been travelling for so many days—and take showers while trying to get the last of our laundry clean. While I am waiting, I wander outside. It is a warm and beautiful night. I try to capture the incredible star display for you, but my camera-or my lack of knowledge about our camera- does not capture what the heavens have to offer. I tear upstairs and tell John to put on whatever-it is warm outside- and to come look at the stars. So very, very beautiful.
Did my ancient ancestors lie on these hills, stare at the skies, and marvel at the beauty as I do? I doubt that I will ever know for sure, but I like to think that this
High Tech Communications
We drive along until we get a connection, pull over, and check email and phone miessage.
is a true story. I feel so very much at home here….
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