Trick or Treaters lacking in Cumbria.

Friday October 31^st, Hallowe’en.

We made it up to Dad’s by 2.30pm, which was pretty good going. I rushed straight into the kitchen to give Louisa a huge hug. She seemed surprised and asked me what that was for and I told her because both of them are safe. Her eyes welled up and she said that she thought I was opposed to the idea of her and my Dad having a baby. I explained I was only shocked at the thought of my Dad being a father again at such an age, but it wasn’t my place to criticise their decision. Dad will be brilliant with a new baby and it is obvious both of them are so happy about it – I am happy for them. It was her turn to give me a hug.

I asked if she wanted the dogs taking out from under her feet as she said it would be useful. Laura and I unpacked our stuff and then drove down into Cockermouth to exercise the pack in Harris Park and see how the town centre has been transformed. (The whole work in the town having now been completed.) We parked up at the entrance to the park itself, in the three hour disc parking zone and waltzed through the open section of the park at the top. Immediately all four dogs decided to relieve themselves. Hurray for pooh bags, say I, and having two pairs of hand to remove the offending mess. It would have been a challenge to have to do it by myself!

We dropped down to the side of the River Cocker at the bottom of the park and of course all four hounds had to go in for a swim or paddle, even Callie wasn’t going to be left out. So we had four soaking wet dogs as we wander off down Rubbybanks Lane following the river towards the confluence with the Derwent. Eventually we had to lead them through the town and we inspected the finished work as we walked.

I have to say that the work looks really good. The new paving is lovely, it is a shame the councillors were so bloody stupid they hadn’t included penalty clauses for late finishing. It should have been completed by July but was only completed last week. The people of Cockermouth need to remove this set of useless tossers at the next local election. If I was a resident of the town I would want them gone and replaced by some who knew how a council should work!

The problem with being in this town with Laura is that she keeps getting stopped by people who know her. Our progress down High Street was punctuated by people coming up to her and saying, “Laura! How are you?” and we’d stop for a chat only for the whole thing to be repeated a few yards further along. The first few times this was cute but after a while it became tedious, especially as the dogs began to get restless. They would walk a few yards, get stopped, hang about, what must have seemed like, a doggy age and when we got going again we would stop after minutes once more! The plus side was I got to meet several of Laura’s old school friends and the dogs began to naturally dry out. We eventually reached the car again with just thirty minutes left on the parking disc.

Back at D & Louisa’s she was beginning to wonder what had happened to us. Laura said, “I happened.” She explained about being stopped by masses of old friends in the High Street. Louisa thought that must be a nice feeling. I had to agree. It used to happen in Norwich (quite a lot) and Cambridge (a bit less) but in Sheffield or Cockermouth it never happens to me at all. I usually only get stopped by people asking me what breed my beautiful dog is. In fact today I was asked what breed Izzy was several times (she’s Dad’s long haired Weimaraner and everyone wants to know what breed she is). .

Dad arrived in time for a wonderful cooked gammon joint for the evening meal and then to be on hand to answer the front door to 8 lots of trick or treaters. I really dislike this bloody stupid American idea (then I hate most American ideas, if the truth be told) D & L had bought in a couple of bags of treat sized chocolate bars and some satsumas, so the children were given some of each. I think the average age of most of them was about 9. There was a small group of teenage girls but all the rest were definitely primary school aged.

I was asked if I wanted a trick or treat when we hit the bedroom, later that evening. I opted for treat, naturally.

Saturday 1^st November

Today was a really clear morning but with the threat of clouds hanging far away in the south west, I discovered this as I took the pack up Tallentire Hill to the bench round the corner. This made me wonder what would be the best thing to do today. I decided that a coastal ramble would be ideal and to that end persuaded Laura that a walk from St Bees to Whitehaven, along the cliff tops would be a good stroll.

After breakfast I got Dad to drop us at Aspatria railway station and we caught the train to St Bees. I love the stretch of coastline from Maryport onwards, when viewed from a train window. In fact there was a picture of waves breaking over this section of line in the Times last week, I seem to recall.

It is a surprisingly longish walk (in relative terms that is) from the station to the beach at St.Bees but it does give you a chance to admire the quaintness of the place. There is no wonder, in my mind, why St Bees is often included in the top 10 places to live in Britain.

We gave Callie a run on the lovely sandy beach and then set off up the cliff path heading north. It’s about a six mile walk and once you hit the cliff path itself it’s relatively flat all the way along to Whitehaven. We had lunch in front of the St Bees lighthouse (a short truncated affair that reminded Laura of the Cape Naturaliste one, in Western Australia, we’d visited in July). Lunch as usual was sandwiches, crisps, a slice of cake, some flap jack, an apple and Satsuma; plus a flask of delicious Empress Earl Grey tea from Marks and Spencers. Callie had two rounds of sangers for her lunch too, potted meat spread, which I am sure didn’t touch the sides on its way down.

The last time I did this walk the area round the old chemical plant, Allbright and Wilson (later to become Marchon) was like dog pooh alley. I am sorry to report there has been no improvement at all; it is still liberally covered with canine faeces. It is disgusting! How can people be so stupid as to want to turn their home environment in to a shit heap? [To be honest I think it is all the fault of the stupidly macho west Cumbrian male mentality.]

Dropping down past the Haig mine into Whitehaven itself is always a delight. From the Candlestick (a disguised chimney) the harbour looks gorgeous and the town, laid out below like a little map, is so neat and tidy. It is a pity when you get down among the buildings it seems to be populated entirely by scroats! Lots of the shops are boarded up and closed; there is a definite ‘run-down’ feel about the place. This is a pity as it could be beautiful. We walked out on to the harbour to buy the fish for our evening meal (as instructed) and then caught the train back to Aspatria.

Dad was waiting for us at the station and we zoomed back home for our fishy supper. Louisa had partially cooked some chips, so they could have a second frying whilst the fish was being done and then we tucked into home-made fish and chips. Yummy in my tummy.

The pieces of haddock we’d bought were enormous. I joked that we were having whale and chips, not fish and chips! We had apple meringue pie for dessert and then spent the rest of the evening sitting pigged out on the sofas in the lounge.

Laura and I took the pack up Tallentire Hill for their last walk of the day and sat at the bench at the top (round the corner) and just smuggled together looking at the lights across the Solway Firth.

Sunday 2^nd November.

Up with the larks as Dad had this mad idea to walk up Arnside Knott today and then go on straight to Lancaster. Louisa told him she wasn’t going to go up that hill, or any hill, until the baby was born – just in case. So Dad revised his plans and decided to stay put in Tallentire. However, the idea seemed sufficiently mad for Laura and I to consider driving down through the Lakes and then after climbing the Knott head off back to Sheffield. Our mad-eyed scheme was almost scuppered by Dad saying why not ask Molly & Eric round for Sunday lunch? Laura danced round to her house and came back almost immediately saying they would like to but were out later in the afternoon, could they cry off until Laura was next up?

I had been all set to take the pack of dogs down onto Mowbray Dunes for a pre-lunch stroll but Laura's message meant we discussed packing up immediately and doing the Arnside jaunt instead. Dad and Louisa were fine with us wandering off and so that was what we did.

Arnside is another place in Cumbria to which Laura has never been. She fell in love with it though. Dad and I came here in about 2011 to walk across Morecambe Bay, at low tide, with the Queen’s Guide to the sands, a chap called Cedric Robinson. {We’d expected to be in a group of about twenty people, there must have been closer to one hundred and twenty!}

You start the crossing at the pier in Arnside and then head along the coastline, southwards, almost until you get to Silverdale, then you strike out across the bay (at low tide) heading for Kent’s Bank, on the northern shore of the Kent Estuary. It is fairly easy walking, being flat, and I did the sandy section barefooted until we hit the northern shore. We had to wade through the River Kent at one point and it was so low I didn’t even get my shorts wet. (I must admit I came close to doing so at one point but a few yards on tip-toe kept my bum clear of the river.)

Today we parked at the pier and headed inland, through some really nice housing, to the gentle slopes of Arnside Knott. It is a fairly leisurely stroll to the plateau like summit and there we had a chocolate bar each, snaffled from the trick or treats remnants, and sat on the bench to look at the view. We had walked up via the northern edge so to come down we went south hitting the shore line about a mile below Arnside itself. The views out over Morecambe bay were stunning. We could even seem Piel Castle, on Piel Island near Barrow, away in the distance. The only blot on the landscape is the huge mass of the nuclear power station at Morecambe.

We lunched in the Albion pub right on the coast in the village, and had a lovely meal. We were hoping, with its location, we might have seen the Arnside bore coming up the Kent estuary from the pub's windows, but we were too late or too early. We finished up, gave Callie a swift run round the foreshore after being cooped up in the car, she wasn't allowed in the pub, and then had a gentle drive back across the Lancashire plain until we found the M6. From here we were soon negotiating the huge traffic jam that is the Manchester Ring Road before crossing Woodhead Pass until we arrived home at about six o’clock.

We had a swift snackette for tea and then took a joint shower and followed that, after a bit of a tumble on the bed, by Laura spending an absolute age plaiting three long strands of my hair, from each side of my forehead, making two thin but neat braids which I am going to use during the week as a living hair band. I have done this before but it is better when someone else plaits the hair for you. They can get the whole plait tighter and neater. If the ends are tied off carefully the whole thing will stay together for quite a while!

We felt overcome with wishy-washiness at about 9.30. So I walked Callie and Loll snook off up to bed. I had half expected another tumble when I got back but the little elf was gently pushing the zeds, so I let her sleep on.