11 May 2016

Langwith

The former "Black Swan" pub in Whaley
We have had some lovely days here in Merry Olde England since the end of April. Time to do a little backtracking methinks - before I forget. After all, one of the functions of this blog is simply to record days in my life - like old-fashioned diary entries. Back to the day of the bluebells - last Thursday...

I drove over to the other side of the M1 motorway and onwards to a small village called Whaley. There I parked and laced up my boots before wandering off through the woods of Scarcliffe Park. Through the woods and I arrived at Upper Langwith with its squat little church.  Then up the hill to Langwith Junction - birthplace of Ken Wagstaff - Hull City's greatest ever player.
The Old Hall, Langwith
The wooded Boon Hills contain several limestone caves that were occupied by our prehistoric ancestors but I was marching onwards to Nether Langwith and then to Whaley Thorns where an Asian family have taken over the old post office. There I bought a cheese and pickle sandwich and a can of Diet Coke which I consumed while sitting on the only bench on the village green. Whaley Thorns is not a quaint pastoral settlement with thatched cottages; it is a forgotten village that was once sustained by coal mining - but the mines have all gone now. Only the memories remain like tumbleweed in a ghost town.
Beyond Whaley Thorns to my lovely bluebell wood and then on to Holbeck Woodhouse and Holbeck where I discovered the graves of The Dukes of Portland, their wives and children - all lying beneath the sod and quiet now. Ever onwards to Bonbusk and back over the railway line to Frithwood Farm. Then on to Whaley Common.
Convex driveway mirror in Holbeck
Whaley Common on May 5th
It was local elections day and two men were sitting in a white container that acted as a polling dtation. They had a generator and a portable lavatory (American: rest room) but nobody was coming to vote in Whaley Common. I guess that's democracy.

Not far to go now - another mile to Whaley. Sadly, "The Black Swan" - once the village pub - called "time" forever last year. I could have done with a good long drink after four and a half hours of  plodding. Once more, so many lovely sights to be enjoyed in the sunshine and once more it was good to get out - lungs working and heart pumping time to the rhythm of my footsteps. Alive-alive-o!
The grave of the 6th Duke of Portland

14 comments:

  1. Every time I visit England, more and more of the pubs are gone. The trendy eating places are not the same and they are so dang expensive too.

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    1. It is becoming a corporate scene of pub-restaurants. So many independent "free houses" have gone. A "Toby Carvery" or a "Hungry Horse" isn't the same as a "Rose and Crown" or a "White Lion". Thanks for calling by Kay.

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  2. In 4 1/2 hours you see some very interesting things. Here we say that if a dog runs away we can still see it after three days. It's flat and not built up at all.

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    1. South Lincolnshire and Norfolk are like that Red - but obviously on a much smaller scale than the Canadian prairieland.

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  3. You are right to be out and about in this wonderful place....I wish I too was retired and I wish I too had your energy.

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    1. Work isn't good for you Libby. It takes up too much time and saps your energy.

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  4. More lovely photos YP, thank you, and it looked like a very good day for enjoying the scenery. You would make an excellent ambassador for the English Tourist Board.

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  5. How interesting - what time is it up there? I've posted this at 07:46 A.M. !!

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    1. I am reading your comments at 8.55am on Thursday morning CG. Come to think of it, I don't even remember where you are. But when you say "up there" I deduce that you are subterranean.

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  6. That certainly is a lot of plodding! Sometimes I think I've been plodding all my life, but nowadays it's more like hobbling!

    On the subject of hobbling...how is your hip these days? I hope all is well with it once again.

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    1. Twinges in the hip but it is happy to carry me for twelve miles or more. The idea of not being able to walk for miles is nightmarish but I expect that will happen in a few years. I gotta make hay while the sun shines.

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  7. An unusual looking church, and Whaley seems a rather sad place with a closed pub, only one bench on the green and a polling station nobody wants...
    But the day was beautiful, and you were out there!

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    1. Whaley, Whaley Common and Whaley Thorns are separate places. Whaley itself is rather nice with a little river flowing by, a couple of farms and the old school now a dwelling... but I wouldn't want to live there.

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  8. I used to use mobile libraries when I was a returning officer. One presiding officer actually suggested driving it round to all the houses in the polling area. Fortunately, however sensible an idea it might have been on the small island concerned, he ran it past me first and a potential electoral challenge was averted. We all mourne the loss of the village pub but our habits have changed and if we don't use them we lose them.

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