Sparket Mill, Cumbria

Hello, England!

Everything about my stay at Sparket Mill was fantastic. I arrived on Wednesday afternoon and was greeted at the station by Alan and Sylvia, who relieved me of my suitcase, drove me home and set me up. I got my own bedroom and bathroom – essentially one whole side of the house! I was very well looked after.

After a cup of coffee (the first of many) we set out for a walk across the nearby fields, which quickly turned into a hike through the rain. We were sodden in minutes. The landscape was incredible, all green fields and rolling fells and ancient iron gateposts. I thought the rain made the whole thing feel quite authentic. We finally arrived at the local pub in Dacre and I enjoyed my first British lager. Verdict: much better than the watery stuff in Melbourne (though I’d still prefer a cider).

Before turning back, we had a quick look at the Dacre castle. I spent much of our walk home pointing out the numerous ‘beware: red squirrels’ signs. Apparently red squirrels are becoming endangered, and aren’t much helped by their tendency to freeze when faced with car headlights. Back home, we watched a dvd of the Tinning Family Reunion, pausing every time Mum, Mel or Grandma appeared.

Thursday was a big day. I think by the end of it I’d seen just about every inch of the Lake District except for Windermere, which is my next destination. I woke up and opened the curtains to find a much nicer day – and a red squirrel! Good timing. After breakfast, Alan and Sylvia drove me out to Pooley Bridge, where we got out and walked around a short stretch of Ullswater, the nearest lake. It was beautiful. There was a tugboat on the water, and ducks, and everything!

Next we went to Dalemain Manor, an enormous old house fitted out with a cobblestone courtyard and, more importantly, a deer-filled field! The nice old gardener noticed my interest in the deer and called them over with a bag of brown bread. He gave me a few slices and I gave them, in turn, to the deer – or, rather, to one greedy-guts deer who kept coming back for more. They were lovely and dainty looking until they started moving, and then they just looked ridiculous. They have this strange way of prancing along, two sets of hooves moving together, like Pop-E at high speed.

The gardener then told me to hold out my hand. Once I’d finally worked out what he meant, he tipped a small measure of nuts onto my palm. I just stood there, wondering if I was meant to give these to the deer as well, when tiny birds – chaffinches – started landing on my hand. I screamed, and entertained all the other visitors. Just like Mary Poppins!

From Dalemain, we went to Penrith, the closest town to Sparket Mill. We had a coffee and scone in a café and checked out the architecture of the local shops. Afterwards we headed out to Greystoke, where we visited a thirteenth century church and graveyard. Next stop was Penruddock, home of Janie Tinning’s [distant relative] primary school. When he spotted me taking photos of the schoolyard, the headmaster came over (presumably to determine whether or not we were paedophiles) and invited us in once he’d heard that I’d come on a family history tour. He was very nice, and we learnt a good few things, including the fact that ‘Penruddock’ and ‘Penrith’ are both named for their ‘red hills’.

We returned to Sparket Mill for lunch, then drove the whole length of Ullswater to reach Aira Force, a stunning waterfall at the end of a short hike.

We next drove down past Brotherswater and found ourselves stuck in a bit of a traffic jam. I’ll just stop and mention that the road was extremely, extremely narrow. Bike-lane narrow. It had obviously been built as a carriageway, and like many other roads we drove on that day, my heart leapt every time a car squeezed by on the other side. So there we were, for a grand total of five minutes, as we watched an emergency helicopter take off with the victim of a very foreseeable road accident.

We finally got to Ambleside, a favourite for tourists due to its pretty houses and lakeside location. A point of interest was a tiny two-storey house that had once held an eight-person family. It was an ‘old lady who lived in a shoe’ sort of situation. I can’t really imagine how eight people could fit standing up, let alone sleep or use furniture.

Next up was a definite highlight: Grasmere, home of Wordsworth’s house, museum and grave. There was a little daffodil garden set up with park benches and an engraved stone footpath, the first of which started with, ‘I wandered, lonely as a cloud…’ We then had a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in a café on the opposite bank of the river. It was great, but might have been better without all the orange-seeking bees. There were also some rather interesting ducks in the river, which Alan later labelled as grebes. Thank you, Great British Book of Birds.

Afterwards we drove past Thirlmere, another lake, and dropped in at Keswick by mistake when we got a bit lost. When we got back on track, we made our way to the Castlerigg Stone Circle, which was very much like Stonehenge except that you’re allowed to approach – and even sit on – the stones. We then finally made our way home, prepared dinner, and washed our ‘welly boots’.

Observations of the UK: Swedes (as in the vegetable) are incredibly massive in England. In Australia, they’re about the size of a cricket ball, something Alan couldn’t believe. Also, carrots taste better in Britain. And I’m really struggling to suppress the word ‘pants’ from my vocabulary. And people drink a lot of coffee. Here I was thinking of England as the land of the tea-drinking people; apparently not.

While the roast pork cooked, I was taken on a very comprehensive tour of the mill and all its workings. There was about five times the amount of machinery that I expected. Alan and Sylvia have compiled a mass of historical mill pieces and curios. It was like visiting a mill museum. I also got a proper tour of the house, which Alan and Sylvia have done up beyond recognition, especially considering its condition when they bought it. It was great to have this kind of look into how Janie would have lived, and how everything would have looked like in her day.

Before leaving the next morning, I was shown a whole pile of legal documents and manuscripts relating to the ownership of the mill. Believe it or not, it was incredibly interesting to see how title deeds have changed over the decades. And then Alan and Sylvia drove me to the train station, where I said goodbye and started off for my next location: Windermere.