We just got up and decided to go. This time it was Quarry Bank Mill. It’s a National Trust property. I’ve been with a work group of new students who can’t believe the conditions a 10 year old child might expect to work in.
Quarry Bank is special because it was the very first “ideal village” in that Mr Greg (not the pasties) built housing and two chapels and a pub for his workers as well as housing. Paying them with one hand and taking it back in the shop or over the bar. This is one of those properties that gets more visitors in the week because it’s popular with school parties.
What an amazing place.
Park signOak Cottages Inside the spinning shed
Engels visited this place. He found it to be better than central Manchester but couldn’t speak to the residents privately so was pretty sure there was stuff to hide all the same. Yep model.villagw ties directly to the Communist Manifesto. Bear in mind that although the village had a school and a library the Greg family very much controlled what people could learn and read.
Two of my nieces and their parents (well, they are only 10 and 5 respectively) have just moved to Wales. The girls are settled in school and the family are enjoying their new life. One thing they have to consider is that the girls will have to learn Welsh as part of their schooling in order to get the best from life there. I think it’s great. Both parents have some Spanish, having lived there in their teens and now it’s time to see the other side where you are the parent in another country debating the need to learn the language.
As a wise old aunty I realise that teens love the idea of secrets from mum and dad. What better way to keep them than to speak a whole new language! Naturally there’s only one thing I can do.. I have to learn Welsh.
Now I’m not saying I’ll ever be fluent but hopefully I’ll know enough to scare the children into believing or worrying that I am. Lol (as the young people say).
I had a Welsh friend at uni many moons ago and started to learn then but you lose touch things drift and there’s no reason to remember so now I’ve gone back to a language app to try again. We went to a pantomime, starring one of the nieces and her mum, over the weekend and I found myself reading (badly) the Welsh language signs and leaflets. I even brought some home. I tried out a phrase or two on the staff and was thanked for my efforts. Apparently my accent is good.
It seems to me a matter of respect to learn something of a country’s language and culture before you go. Even if all you can say is “sorry I don’t speak the language” it shows you’ve made the effort. Trying to explain that Wales is its own country with separate laws and government within the UK is a tough concept for some people.
I’m not about to lecture anyone over their choices. Having a little Spanish when in Valencia a few weeks back made our lives easier (ironically so did having a little Dutch since they formed the bulk of tourists there). People open up to you and show a greater to help generally (I’m not sure Paris operates on the same rules) gets a smile and care in service. Now I’m not claiming to be any kind of linguist I’m just saying taking a little time and care to be decent to people makes a huge difference.
I’m going to continue with my Welsh lessons. You never know when it could save a niece from a terrible situation.
If you live in the UK and have a Stonegate owned pub near you, it may be that at busy times.the price of your drink goes up. That, in essence, is dynamic pricing. Now we are used to holidays costing more.in the school holidays so it’s not the first time this tactic has been used. Hurrah for the quiet pint eh?
My current vice is watching YouTube travel videos. (Maybe I’ll start a channel one day) . In that I don’t pay for the Tube I get ads between and during the videos. Currently, it bring dummer (allegedly) in.the uk, these are largely holiday ads. Many of these are for branded packages to sunny climes. Every fibre of my screams ‘noooooo’ when I see these. I love a bit of luxury, but I’m not averse to a hostel either what I loathe with a passion is tourist hotels. Now I know that when travelling for pleasure you cannot escape the fact that everyone is a tourist. Do not fool yourselves ‘digital nomads’ you’re just tourists with a computer.
What sparked my rant today is an ad for a Hard Rock Hotel. Now, I have an extensive collection of Hard Rock pins, and I’ve spent many a happy hour feeding my face in the cafes as I grew up. I tend to avoid them now. (Please contact me if you want to buy any Hard Rock pins) in preference for local small businesses. Locally run cafes tend to offer better food. I’m no angel. I use air bnbs. On the whole, we tend to look for homes that people actually live in and rent when they’re not there. That’s as it was intended before it was corrupted as a business taking a lot of viable small homes out of the housing market. I rarely use hotels. I stay with friends and they stay with us. Tourist central with the noise and pools and buffet breakfast queue… if you’ve read the Australia posts, you’ll know that was the most disappointing aspect of our visit to Yalara.
Don’t get me wrong I’m lucky enough to not be taking kids with me (I love my nieces, and we’re meeting them and their parents abroad at some point this year) we can pick and choose. We can go during term time, not in peak periods. It can be much quieter when we travel. If I had tips for anyone, these are they. Do not travel to major tourist traps. There are many underrated places on this planet. Walk where you can. Take public transport where possible. (I know that is not possible in the USA, for example). Drunk and shouting by or in the pool daytime or 3am it’s not a good look on anyone. Respect people, and generally, you’ll find they help you, and you’ll find hidden gems and have wonderful experiences that the herd miss.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a train journey to Matchu Pitchu to watch….
Or at least things I don’t need. In the process of redecorating the house (these things we do when retired) there’s always been that charity shop bag by the door. I had a notification this week to say that, with gift aid (a tax back scheme for charities in the UK), the things we’ve chucked in this bag and walked to one of the shops in town had raised over £170 for the charity. How’s that for one person’s trash?
I’ve also been up in the attic (loft) and brought down the small library that has lived up there for the last 15 years. We’ve had new bookshelves built-in to the living room. Obviously, space is limited, but with some books stored in the office space, there had to be a cull. I hate giving up on books, but here’s the question do I need them? Many have not seen daylight in years. Thankfully, I have lots of friends who are happy to take some off my hands, there are apps that let you sell books, and I’d all else fails that the charity shop bag will be filled.
Increasing our ‘one in one out’ policy is becoming a ‘meh I don’t need that’ policy. The house is slowly emptying. Slowly. Tne decorating, new garden, time spent here because pandemic/retirement/working-from-home means that paying more attention to these surroundings became inevitable. When was the last time you really stopped to appreciate all that you have and wonder what you can actually live without. If nothing else ebay might help you pay for your next holiday!
We’ve been away but more of that later. One thing we often do is take a wander around a second-hand or junk shop. You can tell a lot about a nation by the things people resell. In Alice Springs, for example (yes, even on our great Australian adventure), we could’ve had anything from a teapot to a shirt to mining helmet. Brummen in Holland has a great 2nd hand warehouse. Gus’ back corner (achter hoek) . Seriously, you could furnish a house from there and clothe its inhabitants. There’s even paint, crockery, and electrical items. I’m not sure the cds and vinyl would be to everyone’s taste, but what can you do? Lol.
There were one or two glass cases with cast-off watches and small items of jewellery. In the back of one of these, I spotted several cameras. I love a camera. The box brownies and bellows based cameras now very difficult to get film for, but there was one little gem, an old 12 megapixel Samsung. Takes both photos and video. Look back on YouTube and someone the originals were using these things. Ten euro? Sold!
Vintage digital camera
Now, I had no idea if this was in working order, but, at that price, it was worth a punt. Reader, it works! 12 MP glory is mine. There was an SD card inside. I took a couple of test shots and flipped the display on to see the results…. guess what? In 1990, a family of Surinamese origin, somewhere in Holland, had taken pictures of their home and each other and, very sweetly, their pet rabbit. They are very ordinary photographs of an ordinary family doing ordinary things yet somehow trapped in time. I’m not going to publish their photos. I’m not sure yet if I should delete them since they have survived this long and they made me stop to think about the things we take for granted. One persons waste is someone else’s treasure. One person’s past is someone’s future.
An early start to catch a sunrise over Uluru from the viewing platform near the resort was rather spoiled by cloud cover! Still a spectacular sight though, in truth, we overslept a little. Back for breakfast an onto the bus. Today’s viewing was the story of the accident that changed aviation worldwide. The Coffee Royal Affair. Less commentary as we were all tired and reflecting on the end of an eventful week. Some of our friends were leaving today to go on their travels and yet others would be rejoining the Ghan with us tomorrow. We were on the black top (proper roads) as we made our way back to Alice our final lunch stop being at Elrunda Roadhouse. Yes, there were emu. Yes it was everything you imaging a roadhouse to be. None of us wanted a beer and the barman and three locals that had appeared as we arrived faded into the background as quickly as they came.
Emu at Elrunda Roadhouse
We rolled into Alice Springs past a Toyota dealership. It sells more ‘utes’ than anywhere else on the planet. After the roads we have driven in the past few days I can see why. The town itself exists because of the telegraph station but more of that later. It is a hot day as usual and we decided to walk into town before it got too hot (spoilers, it was already too hot). There are a few attractions. Our hotel was next door to the Lasseter’s Casino (Pricilla again), in the town centre highlights are the Qantas hangar, the old prison and the Flying Doctor museum, the desert park is just outside town but more of that later. A farewell diner with our driver and guide and off to bed. One day free to roam Alice tomorrow.
Well, it would have been rude not to visit the Royal Flying Doctor Service since we had already been to Flynn’s memorial and now knew the story of the 20 dollar note (the old ones) and how it could save your life. Its hologram show and the opportunity to get on board a life size mock up of the plane made an enjoyable and informative visit … and we ran into some of the team whilst we were there.
Then we decided on the prison, its just across the road. It’s not entirely grim as it was rescued from destruction because of a wonderful mural painted by a former inmate. Sadly (?) some of the buildings had been destroyed before the community campaign managed to save the rest and it has now been converted to a museum of prominent women. That’s a whole new perspective on the influence of these hardy females. Some of the original blocks have been preserved and no way would I have wanted to be locked in there with no air con.
By now the sun was almost directly overhead so we abandoned the idea of a short walk to find a bakery recommended as a great place to eat and made our way back to the RFDS café for lunch. Staff from the hospital were there too. Refreshed, cooled and stocked up with water in our indispensable water flasks (the best thing in those kits we got) and wandered back to the hotel. Yeah, the pool in the shade was definitely the place to be. Quiet bar snack diner, complementary drinks of course and an early night ready for our return to the train.
So last week was the ‘flu jab and today Covid 4, the much anticipated but unwanted sequel. I arrived home to the announcement that a friend we dined with on Friday has tested positive. Ah well, the test won’t work on me today anyway. It’s officially lockdown for us as of today whatever. The big adventure is but days away. Single figures. Supplies are laid in and the house sitter is confirmed.
Burning desires?
There are logs enough to keep the home fires burning until we slope off. TBH I’m more than a tad nervous. It’s been a while since I’ve left the country to be sure. The pandemic has its continuing effect. Collecting the holiday cash this very afternoon made it all a bit more real but I suspect that until I set foot on that plane. It may be a while before the next update. I’ll be out of signal range. Allons y.
ffiftypluses 