This weekend I visited Lake Windermere- home to the Beatrix Potter museum, The Hole in T’ Wall (frequented by Charles Dickens) and one of the prettiest log benches I’ve seen yet
We came across this bench after taking a random detour when we found we couldn’t walk directly around the edge of the lake- thanks to a caravan park and a building site that likely weren’t there in Wordsworth’s time- and had almost turned back after walking over a mile down a straight road, which I of course had insisted was taking us somewhere (all it had taken us to so far was a less-than-picturesque car dealership ). In typical not all those who wander are lost fashion, it did eventually lead to a field, which could be crossed to reach a leafy path by the very edge of the lake, which gave access to these beautiful spots, so my navigational reputation remains intact!
It’s easy to see why so many writers would choose the Lake District as a place to work- it’s difficult to not be inspited by views like this. It is so peaceful and idyllic that it often really is just you and the views when you are walking, and more often than once you’ll wish you could afford to live there permanently.It is full of hidden spots like these to be discovered and to write in peacefully, and although your feet may hurt after an eight mile walk, some mulled wine soon makes you forget all about it.
One of the reasons for our visit to the Lakes at this time of year is that the University Christmas Break is coming up- and so as we don’t get to spend christmas together, we have our own earlier in the month. Two of the presents I recieved were (inevitably) books from our favourite bookshop – Kernaghan Books, in Liverpool- and one is by Charles Dickens, a frequent visitor at The Hole in T’ Wall, one of the many pubs we visited for mulled wine during our trip!
Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle is one of my favourite books of all time, and so this first edition paperback (from etsy store PrettyHappyVintage) was a brilliant gift for me. This copy of Oliver Twist is beautiful, tiny, emerald green with gold embossed writing.
I’m already looking forward to visiting again next year!
I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o’er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.The waves beside them danced; but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,In such a jocund company:I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.