Quiet days filled with snow

Apparently you know you're a grown up when you see snow and think "oh god, how am i going to get to work?"

It could be the fact that I am on my christmas holidays from uni, or the fact that I don't work right now that means I don't get that feeling. I still get excited when I see snow. I love snow. I love how pure and sparkly my world looks when it's covered in millions of snowflakes. Everywhere seems so peaceful.

So here are a few pictures of my quiet, beautiful sparkly world...

This is what the field behind my house looks like, the sky is a really unusual colour. Not quite blue, not quite yellow, not quite red, just a funy little mixture of them all.

Day 1- “Each great adventure starts with one wrong turn"

“You ready? You don’t look ready!” I’m not exactly sure how I don’t look ready, but I am. I am ready for this adventure up to Skye. Within six hours we will be right up in the Scottish Highlands and beyond. Or so I thought…

As soon as we’re on the motorway, Dean spots a sign for Drumlanrig Castle. He’s got a bit of a thing for castles I think. So, off we go in search of the castle, Tom the sat nav apparently doesn’t approve of this, shouting “Turn around as soon as possible!” We don’t listen.

We pass a sign saying the castle is closed, but hey, what the hell we’ll have a look at it anyway, that’s ok. We drive around the area for a bit, looking out for the castle, and reach the edge of a small town…ok, we must have gone the wrong way, no problem, we’ll go the other way. Except we can’t find it in that direction either! Where is this castle? “Castle closed? Castle gone! I am gunna drive around here until I find this castle! I don’t care; I want to see the castle!”

We never found Drumlanrig Castle; we drove through Wanlockhead, Scotland’s highest village, we followed a red road around the countryside, we spent two hours driving around looking, but we never found it.

Its ok Dean says, “Every great adventure starts with one wrong turn!” That’s fine with me, I’m happy to just take in the scenery, not in any rush to get anywhere.

We pull into a tiny petrol station in Muirkirk where you can get any sandwich filling, as long as you like it with mayo and chicken. Luckily I do.

Driving along I notice how much Scotland looks exactly like the side of a shortbread tin, it’s as if the scenery has been painted on to the world. Apparently Tom doesn’t share this view and seems to have death wish, “Make a sharp right!” That would take us into the central reservation! Once again we ignore him.

We stop at a place called Pitlochry, where salmon are known to pass through, jumping out of the water, however today there is not a salmon in sight and Dean’s promise to catch me one with his teeth like a bear is unfulfilled.

The air is so clean and fresh, I can see my breath. It’s like walking around in a freezer. But the view makes it worth the cold; the trees are reflected on the water, all orange and green- the trees, not the water.


After eight hours of driving, we finally make it to the Kyleakin on the Isle of Skye. Dean is so excited that we have made it, but shocked that the YHA that he was so looking forward to staying in no longer exists that he mounts the curb!

We book into Saucy Marys Backpackers and start drinking. The bathroom in the hostel bar has that familiar hostel smell. If you have never stayed in a backpackers, well it smells like damp and mould.


Unfortunately, a couple who are sitting at the same table as us don’t exactly get Dean’s sense of humour and quickly turn their backs to us. It could also be the socks and thongs (flip flops) look that Dean is sporting, “Chicks dig it” he assures me. We are told that later there will be a guy playing guitar, “It’ll be Crowded House” says Dean.

Across the road is King Haakans where a band from Edinburgh is playing. Unfortunately the combination of their own songs and the David and Goliath fight on TV means that they are mostly playing to themselves.

We head back over to our hostel, and walk in to the bar where the guy is playing ‘Take the weather with you’…by Crowded House…“I told you!” the next hour is spent with Dean shouting requests and singing along, loudly, with the guitar man.

12.30am is bedtime. I don’t sleep much that night. Dean has threatened to engage in behaviour known to take place in hostel dorms…hosing…or in other words pissing on people while they are asleep. I am the only other person in the dorm and not wanting to experience this, I am on alert but manage about two or three hours sleep eventually.

Day 2- “We’re just gunna stop here so I can kick all those stones down!”

The day starts with breakfast, a full Scottish breakfast- complete with haggis. I try it but can safely say I won’t be eating that again!

As we arrived in the dark last night, we take a drive around the island to have a look. Last night, I had changed Tom’s voice to that of a Norwegian male and Dean is completely confused, at first thinking that he just didn’t hear properly, then realising he can’t understand a word Tom is saying. Little things please little minds; I’m highly amused.

After a while, Dean announces, “We’re just gunna stop here so I can kick these stones over.” And with that, he’s out of the car and like a man possessed is kicking over small piles of stones while I take in the scenery. I’m not sure what it was about the stones that made him so angry, but he seems happier when he gets back in the car.

We travel over the bridge that connects the island with the mainland; something that the locals strongly opposed before it was built, but it makes life easier and within five minutes, we are back on the mainland.

Later we stop at Eilean Donan or “Highlander Castle.” We passed it last night, all lit up, but in daylight it looks even better.

Outside, there is snow on the hills, clouds are at tree level and there are mini waterfalls along our route.

After another seven hour drive we make it to Edinburgh, and it is at this point that Tom chooses to have a meltdown. Thrown off by road works on his prepared route, he just shuts down, occasionally suggesting we turn around before going silent, choosing only to speak when he thinks we have made a wrong turn.

After a wild goose chase, Tom announces we have reached our destination, “Oh Tom, we thought we’d lost you!” However, Tom hasn’t led us to our desired location; instead he has directed us to a college car park. Another half an hour passes as we try to work out where we are and how to get to the hostel.

Finally we make it to the Smart City Backpackers, check in and go for a walk around Edinburgh, up the royal mile to Edinburgh Castle (see, didn’t I tell you before Dean had a thing for castles!?) When we get there, a small guided tour is about to start. The mention of refreshments sounds good, but we decide against gate-crashing it.

Back in the hostel, it is time for some food. Proper food, not like yesterdays chicken and mayo sandwich fest, I want a meal. So, burger and chips ordered, Malibu and coke in hand, I’m ready to chill out, and the fire alarm goes off. “That’s a lovely noise, but I am not leaving my Malibu!!!”

Dean wants an early night so while he tries to sleep I attempt to tune the TV in so that I can watch X Factor; yes I am that sad. When I finally manage to get a signal, I am told “you’re as happy as a pig in shit,” and I am!

Day 3- Homeward Bound

Dean “Gooooood Morning!”
Me “Urgh…go away!”
Dean “Ooh somebody’s not a morning person today.”

Let me just tell you that it was 7.30am. I don’t do mornings; I prefer to believe that the day doesn’t start till lunchtime and therefore attempting to get any sort of positive reaction from me before this time is pointless, and often results in a toddler style tantrum, complete with foot stomping.

Eventually I manage to drag myself out of my bed and get ready to drive back to Carlisle. By 8 o’clock we are in the car, happily having avoided the dreaded parking attendant and his apparent “especially nasty attitude.”

Much like me, Tom isn’t a morning person either and has not yet woken up, leaving us to drive around Edinburgh, hopefully in the right direction. It seems we have taken the scenic route, but eventually we make it on to the road out of the city and through the Scottish countryside.

With it being an early autumn morning the sun is still rising through the fog. Outside the fields are covered with frost, the land is very white and wintery. Inside, Chris Moyles chats away on the radio to Kimberly from Girls Aloud about when they climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.

As the sun continues to rise, even the sun visors can’t keep it out of our eyes. You know how it is when the sun sits at that level, right in your eye line and you can’t see anything. So for a while, we drive along hoping that whenever we turn into a road it isn’t a one way street or there isn’t a car waiting to pull out.

We make our way through the Scottish Borders, at one point stopping in the back of beyond at a tiny little petrol station that also seems to double as a post office. It’s a pretty old fashioned thing to come across, but there’s something sweet about it.

After a short time we make it back to Carlisle, back to normality. Dean carries on his journey, getting the train down to Liverpool, while I go back to uni that afternoon. Back to real life where Skye and our little adventure with Tom becomes just a fun memory.

November Rain

I have lived in Carlisle now long enough to see every season…

Winter,

Spring,

Summer and

Fall (which we all know is Autumn, but that’s not how the song goes)

But the one thing about living in Carlisle is that whatever the season, it will rain, and it will rain HARD!

Right now the city is on flood alert; a months worth of rain is supposed to fall in 36 hours and there ain’t a lot of places for that rain to go.

It’s so weird how important the weather is, some people pray for rain after months of drout. But that rain is also the thing that can destroy places. Up here in the far north of England, the people most affected are farmers trying to move their livestock away from the danger, the people whose houses have been filled with dirty water.

It’s also a scary thing being told that your house might flood. It also makes you realise just how shallow you are I suppose. When I found out that my road was a potential flood area, the first thing I did was pack my shoes! That’s right, if the Rivers Eden and Petteril joined forces, the thing I would be most concerned with is shoes.

I also got scared because I am from the most land locked place in the country, no river, no sea, no streams, and in the summer (a good summer) not so much as a puddle…ok so we haven’t had a good summer for a looooong time, but you understand what I am trying to say. The thought of a city under water scared me, waiting in the dark for some sort of wave of sewage to come through the door.

Luckily, that hasn’t happened yet. Walking home through Rickerby Park from uni I got to see for myself how much rain had fallen…and it was a lot. Picnic benches were submerged up to their seats, pathways were no longer visible and the river had burst its banks.

So right now as the rain comes and goes, I’m still waiting for something to happen, hoping it doesn’t. But I’m a lot less scared then I was yesterday.

Carlisle to un-Settle-d and beyond

It’s always an unsettling feeling when you’re not sure you’re on the right train, but this feeling seems to be shared by others until the ticket checker confirms that we’re on our way to Leeds.

This is the first time I have taken this train and it is as far away from the comforts of my usual modern Virgin train to the south. The Northern Metro trains are like little brochures for where they are heading, each of them with pictures on the side giving a little insight to their route. It’s quite sweet really. It is just two carriages of seats, no shop or internet, or even phone signal for the first hour and a half. This could be interesting…

Our first stop is Armathwaite where the station consists of a beautiful cottage style building and two platforms, totally different to Carlisle’s modern monster of a station. As we pull away from the station, there are even goats running around in a field close to it. The air is thick with the smell of petrol, so much so that it begins to give me a headache.

Outside, the golden yellow and orange leaves shine, offset against the familiar grey sky of Cumbria.

Our next stop is Lazonby & Kirkoswald, where we are greeted in a similar way to Armathwaite, an old fashioned brick house and two platforms, one in, one out. Here, the platform is decorated with flower beds, and even has a garden ornament of a rabbit holding a wheelbarrow. I’m definitely in the country now!

For a while the scenery keeps me entertained, so much so that my neck starts to ache from looking around at the view. Then all of a sudden, I feel as if I have been asleep with my eyes open, realising that the vibrant autumn colours have faded away to browns and beige. There aren’t many trees and the land looks bare.

When my parents came to visit last year, my dad was desperate to travel on the Carlisle to Settle railway. Armed with brochures he told me over and over how much he would like to take this trip. Unfortunately, we didn’t do it while he was up (though I’m sure when they come to visit again it will be first on his to do list). The one thing that stood out from the leaflets was the Ribblehead Viaduct; it seems to be the picture that appears on everything used to promote the railway. But here’s the thing, I spent my time looking out of the window waiting to see this infamous viaduct, not remembering that I was on the train and therefore would be travelling over it, unable to see it!

Finally, after three hours on the train we arrive at Leeds station and it is absolutely huge! Luckily I know the time of my connecting train, but if I didn’t, I would definitely have got lost in the maze that is this massive station. Not satisfied with having about 17 platforms (I think), somebody had the genius idea of creating five platforms on one e.g. platform 12c. So after my initial shock and fear (I come from a place where we have five stations maximum, anything more and I get scared), I make my way to the platform where the train is off to Selby, my final destination.

This is where I get scared again, what with it being the autumn, it gets dark pretty early and as I have never taken this train before I am terrified of missing my stop and ending up in the back of beyond.

I sit on the train, shuffling nervously, probably looking a bit shifty really. Luckily I only have two stops to go and when we get to Selby, the woman sitting next to me is getting off here.

So, I made it to Selby, I travelled along the Carlisle to Settle railway and I survived Leeds’ confusing station. Although I was nervous at times, I got through it.

Carlisle: Tourist in my "home town"

Walking into town, I can here a drum beat. In front of me a crowd has formed. A man taps his feet to the rhythm, children dance and a woman with small blue hand prints over her eyes sets down a pink blanket and pulls out more face paints.

I continue through the busy town centre and see the Guildhall Museum. After two years of living here, this is the first time I have noticed it, tucked away next to an Italian restaurant. Inside I explore the small rooms, learning about the city’s history. The floor creaks under my feet as I move around the space that housed merchants, butchers and shoemakers.

Back outside people are enjoying the rare autumn sunshine, sipping coffee and reading the paper.

I follow the signs to the cathedral and the city becomes almost far away as birds sing, interrupting the peaceful silence of the cathedral grounds yellow and orange with leaves littering the floor. Again I see people enjoying the sunshine, giving the city a small town feel.

Across the cobbled street and under the subway leads me to the castle, a landmark I have walked past a hundred times and never wanted to see. But today I am a tourist and need to explore.


I pay my fee and climb the stone steps to a room where music familiar to a medieval banquet plays. The floor creaks as I wander around the castle, a sound familiar in many of the city’s tourist attractions.

I follow the steps down stairs to the dungeon, but after about five seconds my fear of the dark gets the better of me and I have to leave, walking quickly out into the open air, glad that things have moved on from the days of being held captive and that being considered normal behaviour.

After some time spent exploring the castle, learning about it as a fortress back in the day and the fact that Richard the third had once stayed there (alright for some) I return to the city.

Down one of the many lanes I find Ruby Blue Vintage. Inside it’s like stepping back in time. Music from days gone by plays and I’m surrounded by clothes and accessories I would have once found in my mum’s or even my Nan’s wardrobe. Vintage brooches sit alongside beautiful chunky cameras that don’t come with a screen on the back. Magic.

I leave, stepping outside, back into Treasury Court spying a milkshake bar. It’s funny how I’ve never noticed this before, and tempted as I am to try one of their hundreds of flavours, sadly I have no change. Maybe next time I think as I carry on back in to the crazy buzzing city, it’s quite a shock really after so much peace and quiet.

Now that I’m back in the modern world, I trek down to Shelter, probably my favourite charity shop and spot one of those beautiful old fashioned cameras. I can’t resist having a look, but the assistant doesn’t seem to be familiar with customers asking questions and her face looks blank as I ask her how it works.

Out of nowhere, a man appears and talks me step by step through how to use this almost antique piece of equipment. I can see why people are so keen on the new lightweight cameras that are so popular now as the camera in my hand is almost brick like and I wonder how I will ever hold it still enough to take a picture. But I’m sold, I have to have it. And all of a sudden, my camera guide has disappeared again.

My day as a tourist is over and I snap back into a resident leaving my sight seeing head behind me. Carlisle may not have a great reputation but the quirky mix of history, culture and modern day life actually make for quite a good day out.

Kiss me quick, I like it like that.

My itchy feet led me to Blackpool, looking to discover the hidden culture. According to Rough Guide, it does exist.

After a 2 hour journey, me and Paul arrived in “The Vegas of the North”, desperate to get out and stretch our legs. This didn’t happen for another 45 minutes, apparently everybody had the same idea, and finding a parking space was like finding a needle in a haystack!
Eventually we found a space and headed off to discover the town. Strolling through the shopping centre and into the lift…Crash..Laughter..Pain! In my desperate attempts to go exploring, I didn’t realise the lift door had already decided to close, body slamming me and causing me and Paul to burst out laughing and the poor lady in the lift trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.

So, where to go first? Outside on the street, pirates walk from bar to bar, girls dressed up as pink ladies discuss where to go next and a group of sailors make themselves heard as they come singing round the corner. Only in Blackpool is this normal behaviour at three in the afternoon.

We wander onto the pier, screams of joy and the mechanical whirring of the rides in the air. We buy our tokens and climb inside the carriage of the big wheel.
“I don’t like this!” Paul tells me all of a sudden, “I’m scared of heights.” This is maybe not the best time to let me know this, as the wheel rotates and we rise up in to the sky, he sits dead still as I take in the view. However, as the wind starts to rock the carriage slightly, I start to regret it myself.

Back on safe ground, we take a walk…a long walk…the longest walk I’ve ever taken in my life to the south shore, towards the Pleasure Beach. We hear a bell ring and realise if we don’t move quickly, we will be hit by a tram. Along the way, the pavements are crowded, families walk alongside men in the traditional uniform of the stag parties (t-shirts with nicknames like Salsa Simon), fish and chip shops line the street and I wonder, do they eat anything else here?

As we finally reach the Pleasure Beach, the rides rise up; whooshing past, reminding me of the last time I was here with my family.

My dad and I were strapped into the tango ice blast, one of those horrible rides that makes your stomach jump up into your mouth and your eyes stream tears. As we dropped at a ridiculous speed, my dad, knuckles white from gripping the safety harness, screams “I want my mum!” I’m not going through that again!

Me and Paul wonder off to the South Shore pier to play on the amusements. What is it about those damn machines that makes you think if you just put one more pound in you’ll win the soft toy you’ve been trying so desperately to grab? Eventually, our enthusiasm pays off, and Paul grabs a sweet little grey teddy bear for me, it may have been a lot cheaper to buy one from a shop, but where is the excitement in that eh?

All of a sudden, it seems even brighter. Turning around, I see that the street is lit up with the famous Blackpool Illuminations, all around us, everything looks so pretty. Coming along the tram line is a train, covered in lights, the disco tram! Again, typically Blackpool.


We decide to wander back towards town, have a quick stroll past the fountain and try to find the car. Hmm, the shopping centre is locked; we’ll have to go round the back. Only the back seems to be another 3 mile walk! But we walk any way; didn’t we pass that a minute a go? Oh my god if we have to turn left here…yep that’s where we just came from, oh god we are back where we started, we could have walked five steps but no we took the long way. It isn’t an adventure if me and Paul don’t get lost; it’s all part of the fun.

So finally, back to car, sit down and rest. We came here looking for culture, but the thing is, Blackpool’s culture is the tacky, kiss me quick bold and over the top. It wouldn’t be Blackpool otherwise. It is the way it is and that’s the best thing about it.

By the beach in Brighton

There's something about an old fashioned carousel that I love. The music, the colour. It's magic.

I took these photo's with my old film camera. I love the way the came out looking so vintage.

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...