Shady walk at Chatsworth

Keeping up with my latest exercise plan, I wanted to go out walking again but the weather was heating up again. I decided on a two-part afternoon - Chatsworth garden first, keeping under the trees, followed by a walk among the heather on Baslow Edge, at a time when temperatures would be dropping.

Chatsworth's huge Emperor Fountain isn't running constantly at the moment, because of the drought, but we were lucky enough to arrive during its afternoon 'performance slot'. With a light breeze blowing, the water drifted one direction, then another - even catching me standing on the bank, just out of tree cover. For a few seconds it was lovely and refreshing.

Then we walked on, up the beech avenue

to the urn which marks almost the limit of the garden in this direction.

From here there are views south over the wider estate, and back over the calm water of the Canal pond.

With 105 acres to play with, there's plenty of space for trees and shady spots in Chatsworth's garden. A path lined by different varieties of bamboo leads towards the Maze whose walls are currently lined by glorious agapanthus, like a blue wave crashing against the stonework.

I nipped out into the sunshine very quickly to take this close-up shot but then retreated to the shade, 

along a sunken path, 

then along the hillside, through the series of linked flowering spaces that make up Arcadia

Again, following this path it's possible to walk almost back to the exit while staying under the cover of the trees.

Outside though, it was hot. The flying horse sculpture reminded me that one day soon I must go back and discover the rest of the exhibits of the Burning Man exhibition out in the parkland. But that's for another, cooler, day! 

 

An unexpected patch of wildness on my doorstep

 At weekend I went walking up to the local wood. I don't often go these days because I find the walk up the playing fields, surrounded by housing, monotonous, but I'd come to the realisation that I'd stopped my (always rather erratic) exercise (too busy and the weather's been too hot), and needed to get out more. The wood itself has become quite depressing with branches now marking the paths we should keep to and off-piste exploration of the undergrowth actively discouraged. At the further side though I found an odd spot of delight and wildness. 

Farmers' fields used to lie between the wood and a busy A road, but one of these has already been built on and the other marked for future development. Meanwhile this latter is allowed to run wild. Last year I seem to think it was covered in the daisy-like flowers of wild chamomile - attractive to bees and other insects but scrubby and reminiscent of waste-land.

 This year, oats have appeared from somewhere. Maybe a wild variety, maybe some seed from previous crops. 

Whichever, there's something lovely about their pale cream heads wafting in an evening breeze, and contrasting sharply with the dark dried stalks of what I think is sorrel (something that as a child I knew as vinegar plant, and dared each other to eat).

Alongside the oats, other plants are colonising the field - bright yellow ragwort, teasels, a clump of metre-high seedlings from a nearby ash tree, and a buddleia that looked better than my garden shrub.

I don't imagine this area will stay this way for long - the builders will move in with measuring equipment and diggers and its magic be lost. For this summer though it's lovely.

Mishaps with a tent; not as prepared as I thought

A month ago we were packed and heading off to Timber festival. With Covid disrupting life, it had been a while since we'd stayed in the tent but I assumed I'd soon get the hang of it again. 

Preparation is important, especially after a gap, so we practiced putting up the tent and inflating the air-beds, and everything seemed fine. I practiced getting up off the floor. I dug out my alleged 'festival' clothes, varnished my nails, and was ready to go.

But thing didn't run to plan; I should have seen it as a sign when I realised about 10 minutes from home that I'd forgotten my hairbrush! We got there, put up the tent without too much trouble, went back to the car for a second load of clothes/inflatable beds/shoes, and everything seemed fine. But heading downhill to the festival proper I began to realise what a strain carrying things from car park to campsite had been. By half past eight I exhausted, and longing for a comfy bed. When we returned to the tent in the evening one of the beds had deflated, and even on the other I just couldn't settle so we decided to take the easy way out and go home for the night, returning in the morning.

 For a festival half an hour away from home this, while not ideal, proved a workable solution, but a couple of days later I received an invitation for ALSO festival. This wasn't an opportunity I wanted to pass up on, although being in Warwickshire there was no way I could nip home each evening.

 So ... we tested the beds again - this time actually sleeping on them for a night at home - and they were fine; they presumably just hadn't been closed properly. We were ready to go! Sort of.

I'm at stage of age and fitness (ie old and unfit) where I can't go out one weekend, exhaust myself, rest during the week, and be ready to go again the next weekend. ALSO luckily is one of the few festivals where you can drive your car onto the camping site, so no problems with carrying equipment this time. 

Unfortunately it left us a bit careless about choosing where to pitch the tent. While some of the campervans and glamping tents were on flat areas beside the actual festival site, tents were on a slope above. It didn't look too steep from the car, so we chose a spot with a view down to the main stage where we could just see the lake in the distance. Very pretty - if we'd been staying in the tent all weekend - but all the events, plus food and toilets were at the bottom of the slope, and what goes down has to come back up again. Remember my legs hadn't really recovered from the previous weekend (I saw small children running up and down quite happily); a bit more thought and planning would have improved our weekend a lot. 

So, there are lessons to be learned for another time, whether at festivals or on holiday, but I haven't been put off. I like the wildness, and back to nature vibe of staying in the tent, even when it's erected in manicured parkland, and I'm eager to try it on a slightly wilder campsite.

If you'd like to read about the actual festivals rather than my mishaps with a tent, follow the links below

Timber 

ALSO

Too hot!

 You've probably noticed (at least if you're a UK reader you will have done) that it's been hot. Not cute nip-out-and-get-a-tan warm but alarmingly hot.

At Coningsby in Lincolnshire a record high temperature was recorded of 40.3. From seemingly all parts of the country there were reports of wild fires. Not just the expected moorland fires but in London, Sherwood Forest, and the North Norfolk coast, with fields, woodland and houses going up in smoke. Rail tracks melted. In Buxton, Derbyshire, where they're more used to coping with snow, the road surface started to melt. But the Mail ran with a headline that read 'Sunny day snowflake Britain had a meltdown' as if we were all just making a fuss over nothing, and that global warming isn't anything to worry about.

I'm not used to this sort of weather. I've never really embraced foreign travel, and Mediterranean temperatures. Most years I'd spend my summer holidays in Scotland where it can be relied on to be cool. With some sunshine 16 degrees is perfectly warm enough to swim in the sea. So anything above the mid-20s mark is too hot for me.

Over on Twitter I stumbled on a thread of people responding to the question 'where is the hottest place you've been?' Dubai. Laos. Turkey. Another mention for Dubai. Death Valley. Singapore. Perth WA. Dubai, again. Well, for me the answer was simple - my own back garden, yesterday. My tiny indoor/outdoor thermometer showed over 40 degrees outside. It's not an expensive piece of kit, and was probably getting over-excited but it was certainly warmer than I've ever known it.

Today it's cooler. Back to 25 degrees or so. Just a little above my comfort zone but with a pleasant breeze to add a little wind chill. Lets hope it stays that way for a while.

ALSO 2022

We were barely home from Timber festival when an exciting email dropped in my in-box - an invitation to ALSO festival, being held the next weekend! Would I be interested in press tickets? Ooh, YES, PLEASE! 

I've mentioned ALSO before as my kind of festival; not loud music and dancing till dawm, or at least not JUST that, but a mix of informative talks, music, and (for those wanting to do more than sit back in a field) activities. Numbers are kept to 2000; small enough to feel intimate, large enough to get that festival vibe.

 So, offered the opportunity, how could I refuse?After all, my blog and lifestyle are all about making the most of opportunities regardless of my age, and this is a festival I've been wanting to attend for some years.

Last Friday found us then, car loaded with camping equipment, heading south to Compton Verney, in Warwickshire. The site is possibly the loveliest place ever for a festival - 50 acres of parkland re-shaped and 'landscaped' in the eighteenth century by Capability Brown, and then gradually over the years being allowed to decline into something less formal. The deliberately designed flat areas by the lake are perfect for a main stage, smaller marquees, and food stalls, while paths lead off to the Lake and Woodland stages, a waterside Rum Shack, and the lake itself, home for the weekend to swimmers and paddle-boarders.

I'd started out with a plan - who I wanted to see/hear, which workshops I might like to join in - but I soon drifted away from it in favour of going-with-the-flow, and dropping in on talks or musical performances as they caught my attention. I think the only part of my plan that I stuck to was watching a food prep demonstration from Kathy Slack entitled 'Glut'. An enthusiastic gardener she understands the way home-grown produce varies between famine and feast, and in her book From The Veg Patch conjures up delicious, new ways to use common vegetables when faced with a flood of them. 

Professor Anil Seth

Other than that I wandered in and out of several fascinating talks - Professor Anil Seth talking about how we perceive the world and the difference between 'consciousness' as seen in animals and 'intelligence' as found in computers: sports psychologist, Dr Peter Olusoga, applying his training techniques to everyday life, and Dr Alex George in his 'Live Well Every Day' event talking about mental health, lack of adequate provision through the NHS, and his campaign to improve things. Sometimes I found myself nodding wisely in agreement, sometimes I disagreed with the speaker, but they all made me think. 

Dr Peter Olusoga

Jeffrey Boakye presented a different sort of talk, taking the audience on a history of Black Britain through songs. Stop and really listen to the words, and you'll realise some of the hardships the Black communities face. I missed the beginning of this event, but wished I hadn't.  

Juno Dawson

Wandering past the Lake stage I spotted Juno Dawson, known to me as a YA author, but now presenting her first novel for adult-readers, Her Majesty's Royal Coven, and discussing the similarities between witch hunts and the attacks faced by the LGBTQ community. 

I approached the musical acts in much the same drop in, drop out way. The first on Friday evening was singer/songwriter Luke Jackson,  followed by James Graydon who 'coached' the actors for Bohemian Rhapsody, but after those I rather lost track. There were certainly 'rockier' sounds from Keg and Manor, and Ciaran Lavery tempted us back down to the Main stage when we'd already decided to turn in for the night!   Joining in with the ALSO choir or the Charleston dance ceilidh I left for others with better voices an more energy.

The weather was amazing. Just perfect for lounging around, sipping a non-alcoholic Seedlip spritzer, or eating buffalo-milk ice cream. 

With both bacon cobs and fresh fruit for breakfast, organic lamb burgers sprinkled with pomegranate seeds, and Trinidadian street food from Heart and Soul BBQ, the food was great. If you wanted something more formal there were Ukrainian, Syrian, and Balearic cookery demonstrations/dining experiences to indulge in with tables set out beneath the trees. 

There are probably more things I wish I'd done than things I did. Certainly one of those feasts. An event or experience that clashed with something else. A talk about doughnut economics, because it's something I've heard about but never made sense of. I didn't go swimming in the lake, or try paddle boarding. I didn't learn to make a (non-alcoholic) Bloody Mary or go on a foraging walk. Sometimes there's not just enough time for everything, but I think the feeling of 'didn't get to see everything' is a better one to leave with than 'seen/done it all'; it tempts you back another time.

I have to, out of fairness, mention that it wasn't totally idyllic. We pitched our tent too high on the surrounding slopes. It gave us a great overall view, but left us with a trudge down to the festival area and back uphill at the end of the day or if we'd forgotten anything, and quite a way to go to the toilets in the middle of the night.  And those toilets, though very nice proper flushing loos, weren't really numerous enough and got blocked too quickly. The first could be avoided with a little fore-knowledge; the second happen anywhere with 'off mains' facilities. 

To any readers who maybe think festivals aren't for them, I'd say, give it a go. Stretch your mind a little. Try something new. Come away inspired. 

The way to the woods

Next year's event will be held 14-16 July, and super-earlybird tickets are already on sale here

Timber 2022

I'm still recovering from a weekend of music and activities at Timber Festival on the wonderful Feanedock site in the National Forest. This is the fourth year (with a gap in 2020) that the festival has taken place here and it's a fitting setting for a celebration of woods and outdoors, as not so long ago this area was given over to open-cast mining; now through landscaping and the planting of trees, it's returning to nature. 

With a mix of woodland and open glades, it divides naturally into a series of linked but separate spaces for stages, food vendors, well-being activities, woodland crafts, and campfire discussions. 

Smoke Fairies

Despite all my scribblings in the programme, I didn't find time to everything I would have liked to do. We were there nice and early on Friday to catch Smoke Fairies kicking off the show on the Eyrie stage, and caught lots of incredible acts here and on the bigger Nightingale stage, lying back in the afternoon sun, eating dairy-free ice cream, and letting the music wash over me.

 Favourites? 

Smoke Fairies, atmospheric and haunting. 

The Rajasthan Heritage Brass Band, full of life, Bollywood rhythms, and joyous exuberance.  

Lunatraktors' modern protest songs and clog dancing.

Josienne Clarke silhouetted by the sun

 Josienne Clarke, despite her claims that all her songs seemed a bit melancholy, I loved their gentle sound

Ceitidh Mac on the
beautifully-sited Eyrie stage

In between there was Ivan Campo (an Indie folk trio, not the Spanish footballer), Kabantu, Mishra, Ceitidh Mac, and Haiku Salut, Unfortunately, Holy Moly and the Crackers due to close the festival on Sunday evening, and who I've been trying to catch for years, had to cancel at the last minute (but I might not have still been awake by then). By the way, dancing - whether ceilidh or bollywood - I left to others.

In and among this, I found time to  make wildflower seed balls with the National Memorial Arboretum; I dropped in and out (that's the beauty of an outdoor festival) of various talks and discussions, as wide ranging as Simon Armitage reading from his new book, The Owl and the Nightingale, and Steve Guy, aka The Hungry Guy, showing how to make your own vinegar. The most interesting I found were Louisa Ziane on the amount of waste in food production, and how Toast ale came into being to use up unwanted bread, and Dr Jack Matthews' Beginners Guide to Pebbles about the geology of  pebbles you might find in Charnwood Forest Geopark. 

In another wooded clearing, the Canopy, I watched Lives of Clay a story told through dance and music, mingling of the myths of Parvati and Shiva with a story of a modern Indian woman 

  

There were some slight disappointments - rain showers which found their way into the tent; Holy Moly and the Crackers couldn't perform as I've mentioned above, and Janet Ellis also had to cancel her Wilderness Tracks session; various glitches and injury plagued Timeless performance in a huge hour glass, and it never really seemed dark enough for the Gloaming Light Trail and the Unfurl Giants to be seen at their best.
 

But mainly it was a weekend of blissed out lazing in the sun.

Next year Timber will run from Friday 7th to Sunday 9th July, and Early Bird tickets are on sale now - see here 

I was asked along to Timber, and my ticket paid for, by the organisers Wild Rumpus, though I made a donation to the pay-it-forward scheme which aims to raise fund for free tickets for carers. Views are, of course, my own.