In the dock of the bay

Right, time to jump back in time and to our Yorkshire trip in August. Just like the previous recap post about The Kilburn White Horse and Rievaulx Abbey, an episode from Winter Walks made me want to check out Robin Hood’s Bay (if you can watch the episode where you are, Simon Armitage - the Poet Laureate - guides us there on his winter walk; you can see when he arrives at RBH at 23:31min). In the 18th century the village was the busiest smugglers community on the Yorkshire coast. Apparently you could send up a bale of silk from the bottom of the village to the top without it ever leaving the houses, and the reason why will become obvious further on. Its location made it the perfect spot for this line of business, as it was surrounded by marshes on three sides and the sea to the east. It has also been a fishing village but is now home to just 42 people, as 75% of the houses are holiday lets.

It’s ridiculously pretty don’t you think? I’d actually love to come back here in winter and rent a place.

When we arrived we quickly grabbed a table at a café for some snacks, and as we were sitting under a massive parasol waiting in the rain, there was an awful racket. A seagull chick, almost fully grown, was hopping from parasol to parasol, squawking like only a loud seagull can, and at one point it tipped ours so a whole load of water came down the side of it. Luckily none of us got drenched.

Bellies full we headed down to the beach, where the tide was out, to have a little wander. This was the view looking southwards.

And this northwards.

I was not tempted to swim. Too much of a faff afterwards.

But that didn’t stop the kids. Nothing stops kids when you’re at the beach. There’s something in-built that makes them want to dip their toes, or in this case their legs.

Even in the rain. And yes, a Saul Leiter homage is going on right here.

Rae the dog had a go too.

Looks like some nice bit of rock pooling is happening here.

We also went exploring in the village, which meant getting higher up.

A couple of cool crazy fonts on the way.

Talk about being close to your neighbours. Also, no cars. It did make me wonder how the hell you’d get all your shopping home from the supermarket, or all your suitcases and bags to your rental. And what happens if you live here and you’ve bought a new sofa, or if you’re having work done on your house? Maybe that’s when you get your neighbours to help by passing things up and through? Although the village seems too empty for that to work these days.

You must have known your neighbours pretty well back in the day, living this close to them.

Even from up here you can see how narrow the lanes/paths between the houses are.

If I was a painter I’d for sure paint this view. Alas, I’m not, so this will have to do.

Maybe they used pack mules to get stuff into their houses?! That’s it. I will accept that as the answer. You can also imagine how easy it would be to shake off anyone chasing after you, as it’s so much like a labyrinth here, with lots of nooks and crannies to hide in.

So there you go, that’s what our day in Robin Hood’s Bay looked like. There’s a new series out now of Winter Walks, but part of me is thinking that maybe I should save them, in case things here turn worse and we enter a fourth lockdown in a few weeks time. I’d be very surprised if that is what happens, but I’d also not be very surprised if it is. If there’s something I’ve learnt in the past nearly two years, it’s that you never know what’s around the corner (which we actually never ever really knew anyway, we just tend to kid ourselves into thinking that we do know our futures - or we rather did). Well, at least we can always look back, eh?

A day in ruins

More from this summer. It was so different in many ways, but the main one was that Mr Famapa worked away for most of it, leaving me and Oomoo to our own devices for weeks on end. To break it up me and O drove up to York to go and stay with friends for a few nights. The weather was all over the place (mainly on the wet side) but I had a few places I wanted to go visit.

The Kilburn White Horse was one of them, and this is the best picture I got of it. Not only can you not see the horse, it’s also not white. There’s quite a story about it; a wealthy Victorian business man had been to see the chalk hill Uffington White Horse in Oxfordshire, and wanted to create something similar near the village he grew up in. The local schoolmaster, together with his pupils and volunteers, set about to cut the horse out of the hill, but as it wasn’t made out of chalk, the horse did not end up having the desired white colour. Tons of limestone was instead poured over it to have the same effect, something that has been done regularly ever since. Well, it had obviously not been done for a long time when we were there, so if anything it could probably be re-branded to a more accurate name like “The Greige Horse”.

Walking up the steps up to it (and down like here) was quite an experience. They went on forever and were ridiculously steep. Quite a workout!

From there we continued to Helmsley for a spot of lunch, and walked past this ruin of Helmsley Castle.

Twice.

We didn’t stop as we had a bigger ruin on our itinerary: Rievaulx Abbey. In the depths of the third lockdown I savoured watching Winter Walks, where you got to follow various people in the public eye go for a solo walk in Yorkshire and Cumbria, accompanied only by a 360 degree camera they were filming with themselves with, and a drone. This blogpost describes exactly what it felt like for me to watch these beautiful, soulful programmes in the bleakest of winters (let’s hope this coming one won’t be as bad, because the last one was ROUGH here), and the programmes proved handy with lots of suggestions of what to explore in Yorkshire.

Rievaulx Abbey did not disappoint.

A Cistercian monastery since 1132 (!), this extension of the cloisters was completed in the 1220’s. At its most populous point around 650 people lived there, with the minority being monks, and the majority lay brothers.

Shut down by Henry the VIII in 1538, it was quickly dismantled, with the roof lead and church bells saved for the king.

It didn’t occur to me that maybe it was a bit unsafe to walk around like we did, but the upper walls were reinforced with hidden concrete beams in 1918, to preserve the ruins for the future.

Dotted around in the grass were signs showing where different areas used to be.

Must be quite something to live so close, in these houses, right next to it.

After the dissolution of the abbey, it continued on as an iron forge, which already existed, as the lay brothers at Rievaulx forged their own tools, nails and cutlery. Eventually it too got closed down, and the land was handed down generations of landed gentry, and finally given to the state as a historical monument in the 1900’s.

Lastly, in the grounds café afterwards, in a really well designed seating area. Those windows!

I’m so glad we’re finally exploring England more (and I hope we get to travel round the rest of the UK soon too), as in the ‘Before’ we usually went abroad for our holidays. I always knew that there are so many amazing places to visit here, and it’s crazy that it took a pandemic to make us appreciate what’s closer to home. But I guess sometimes you have to learn the hard way.

It's a Kew, Kew summer

Quite soon after the school summer holidays started, me and Oomoo went with friends to Kew Gardens. I’m guessing it won’t be long before he’ll pass on the offer of going there though. We’re almost exactly a year away from him turning into to a teenager (gasp), and I’m sure he’ll rather do something less walk-y by then. But then he might surprise me. Let’s hope so.

There’s still enough interesting stuff there for an almost 12 year old.

Like cool sound installations hanging in trees.

You had to stand underneath the sound domes to hear the amplified recordings of the inner workings of a tree, including the rumble that can be heard under the bark (no, I didn't know there was such a thing either) or the popping sound of water as it travels from the trunk towards the leaves - mixed with music.

We then finally made our way to Queen Charlotte’s Cottage, one of the last places within the gardens that I’ve not yet been to, but sadly it was shut. But L was happy anyway, as you can see here. In fact, maybe she was happy because it was shut… The cottage was used by King George III and Queen Charlotte in the late 1700’s, as a pit stop for a cup of tea and a rest when they went for walks in the grounds of Kew Palace, their summer holiday home. In spring the cottage is surrounded by blue bells and I hope I time it right one year, so I can see it in all its blue glory.

There were also unusual planting installations dotted around the gardens.

Noice.

And one really comfy continuous bench.

Seeing as green is going to fade away in nature’s winter palette, let’s take some in now. Delicately, like this

or layered, like that

or bright and punchy, like here

or curly and swirly, like there.

And I’ll add some nice orange and white too - before I say “Hasta la vista Kew”.

Finally, no visit is complete without a picture like this from the Hive. Standing underneath it I initially couldn’t make out if this was Oomoo or not, but then I noticed the undone shoelace. That’s him alright.

While typing in the post title I had Bananarama going round in my head, so here’s a link to Cruel Summer, from 37 years ago (OMG!). I love how their outfits are so in fashion again (like seriously), and after watching the music video I’ve got a serious girl crush on Siobhan Fahey. How could you not?!

An Oxford wander

Seems like hardly any of my posts are from London recently... You can't blame me though, can you, as I’ve seen enough of London to last me quite a while in the past 18 months. My friend H, who used to live around the corner from me, moved out of London earlier this year, and I’m so proud of us for managing to see each other about once a month since then. Oxford is a half hour train ride from her house, so on we the train we hopped, to go for an architecture walk in the Jericho neighbourhood. I’m always up for a visit there (still haven’t managed to go to Cambridge - which is crazy)! In fact H was scheming that we should retire there together, listing good healthcare, a smaller city, but still close to London and the countryside as good reasons, to which I added ‘a bikeable city!’. She did get me thinking. Just like in London the architecture is a varied mix - Georgian, Victorian, Brutalist and new. Check out this 60’s student accommodation block out next to, I’m guessing, an Edwardian building, now a very classy wine bar.

And here, a Victorian terrace. I always think streets without trees look so strange.

Maybe that’s compensated by these ornate window frames just yards away.

And this Georgian terrace looks very different from London ones, as they’ve been built in what looks like Bath stone, rather than brick.

We all like Georgian houses, don’t we? They really knew how to build proportionally back then. Although if you look closely you can see that this house isn’t perfectly symmetrical.

Had to snap this as I liked the colours and the pattern.

Just around the corner sits another modern student accommodation building. I like how they’ve matched the exterior stone with the older houses.

Look at that cool dining area to the right. Very stylish student digs I must say.

I wanted to get a picture of the Palladian exterior of this building, and cursed loudly about the white van blocking the view. The guy in the picture, who’s van it was, apologised profusely, and I immediately apologised about my outburst. We all had a good laugh about it. The building, St Paul’s, used to be a church and is now a bar called Freud. Funnily enough, I used to frequent the original London branch a lot in the mid 90’s. Oh boy, writing that previous sentence makes me feel old.

A bit further down the road this house caught our eye. Why did the front look like that, and didn't it look great? Turns out it started out life as a greengrocers.

Hence this old painted ad on the side of the house for Hovis bread.

We stood looking at this house for quite a while. We also really liked the planting. So jealous of people who have the energy to look after their plants that well.

Same road, different style. I love these arched entryways. Something about them is so cosy.

At one point we walked onto a little bridge over the Oxford Canal. I had to take one of my waving at each others reflection pictures there. Here’s another one from Venice.

Face!

In-ter-esting… I wonder if anyone ever does. I didn’t, but maybe I should’ve.

H, looking down a street.

An Oxford alternative to a window box. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like it before.

Ooooooff. The brick colour and windows on this house. Niiiiiiice.

Before catching the train back to H’s house we walked along Oxford Canal. At one section the houses backed on to it, with the gardens going all the way down to the canal.

Nice, huh?

Talk about lifestyle goals.

Sadly the canal isn’t clean enough to swim in. And also, you’d feel pretty exposed with the opposite side of the canal being a public footpath. Still, really nice to see how some people live (university professors maybe?), and if you wanted to be more private, the gardens were deep enough to shelter you form people like us.

And finally, an eye catching ziggurat tower atop the Saïd Business School right next to the train station. It was so cool to go to Oxford and only walk around one residential neighbourhood and skip everything else. A bit like going to London, only to walk around Islington or something. Lucky us.