Wordsworth and the weather

On Sunday Abby and I walked from the edge of Ambleside to Rydel, not so much for the town as for Rydel Mount (one of Wordsworth’s homes and gardens). Then we continued on to Grasmere, again not so much for the town as for the gingerbread Abby had read about in the Lonely Planet. (This would be the gingerbread I am now having to finish all by myself. There was also the suggestion of giving it to Becca when I get back since Abby remembers her liking ginger, and there is lots of ginger- ginger bits mind you-in these sweets. What say you Becca? It’s strong stuff…)

Well, Rydel Mount went over far better with both of us than the gingerbread. Though I spent about ten minutes in the dinning room, reading every factoid they had up and -romantic that I am- soaking up the fact that I was standing where Wordsworth once stood (though my favorite spot is probably this little shelter build of logs, along one of the paths, that overlooks much of his gardens. Evidently this was one of his favorite spots to work out his poems, read them outloud to himself, pace, revise, be inspired). The rest of the rooms were great as well, and they had on display many of his letters discussing poems about to be printed, and things of that nature. I also appreciated seeing the women’s rooms (Dora’s (his daughter), and Dorothy (an aunt). There were sketches and paintings up of Dora’s, the desk she had used for her schooling, and needlework that both Mary and Dorothy had done, still in pretty good condition. The house is actually still used by decendants of Wordsworth’s, and some of their family pictures were up in the living room.

The walk from Rydel Mount to Grasemere was scenic (though I think it would be hard to find a non-scenic walk in the lake district) and I was releived that my croc sandels did alright. And to add to the free money I have received so far in England (1£ at the bottom of a purse I bought and 20p on the ground), I would have an additional 3£5p from the confussed bus driver who thought I’d given him 5£. The conversation went something like this:

“Right, that’ll be 2.95.”

(I give him 3£, he gives me back 3£5p).

“I think I should only be getting 5p back.”

“The fare is 2£95p, so I gave you 3£5p change.”

“But I only gave you 3£.” (I don’t know how to make myself any more clear)

“Maybe it’s my accent. I’m sorry.”

“No, I undersand you perfectly well, it’s just that I ONLY gave you 3£. I should only get 5p back.”

(He opens up his other hand which had the money I’d given him. 3£)

“Oh, I see.”

(He gives me the 5p)

I go find Abby on the bus, wondering if perhaps I was the fool and he was trying to give me a free ride. mmm. No. And it this were the case, it was too confussing to be flattering.

So that was our last day in the lake district, and the next morning as we were packing up to head north there was a bit of a drizzle. The weather was starting to catch up with us…and it knew we were headed for Edinburgh. Oh, winter coat that’s back home, how I long for thee…