Some welcome blue sky and sunshine peeping through broken cloud illuminated our two-and-a-half-hour rail trip from Euston to Morecambe, as we sped past numerous familiar sights from Camden Roundhouse and Wembley Stadium, to the Chilterns and Red Kites, canals and flooding, the Peak District and Forest of Bowland.
And so with a change at Lancaster we rolled into Morecambe just after lunchtime. And straight off the train we found ourselves immersed in birdiness, from sculptures to pavement poetry …
… as we walked the short distance to our hotel, the Midland, the whole reason we planned this short break. It all goes back to our visit to Dulwich Picture Gallery last May to see the Tirzah Garwood exhibition. A few days later Jude was reading a book on Seaside Architecture, where she came across this hotel and the fact that shortly after it was built in the 1930s, Tirzah and her husband Eric Ravilious had painted a mural therein. Unfortunately, the mural soon fell off the wall, and indeed the hotel fell into disrepair in the post-war period. Fortunately the building was rescued, revived and reopened in 2008, and a mural inspired by the original recreated for the filming of an episode of Agatha Christie’s Poirot: we just knew we had to visit, and we were not disappointed!
From the outside it is a classic Art Deco building, designed by Oliver Hill, whose work we are familiar with from the seafront at Frinton. And from the outset the artistic touches are apparent, including two seahorse sculptures over the entrance by Eric Gill.
And the delights continue inside, both public spaces and rooms adding to the feeling of luxury.
Art included a frieze by Eric Gill and THAT reimagined mural:
And the view from the room was an ever-changing montage of light and tide over Morecambe Bay, looking over to the hills of the Lake District.
The views from the rear were no less enticing, with the old railway station, now a pub (well, we had to..!) and the distinctive stepped outline of Ingleborough showing how close to my home county we were…
We could easily have spent the whole afternoon sipping wine in the Rotunda, but it was sunny and the prom and stone jetty were just out there. So out we went, for wonderful views of the hotel, and as the tide was in, just a few birds including Great Crested Grebes fishing and Redshanks and Turnstones roosting on the beach.
But the bird and marine life art theme continued all around us, with sculptures …
… to plaques in the pavements, along with natural adornments like Sunburst Lichens:
The sun was sinking so it was back to our very comfortable, spacious, stylish room to watch the natural light show. And as daylight slipped away, the art show continued with the shadows and light on our ceiling.
Thence to food. My venison fettuccine was simply lovely! Then breakfast, again overlooking the Bay, this time with a fast-receding tide and grey skies, as flocks of Eiders and Curlews flew along the shore. It may have been a bit more expensive than our usual hotels, but it really was worth it for the experience.
As we left the hotel, yelping overhead alerted us to a skein of Pink-footed Geese heading south, in a formation that was reflected in the flocks on the promenade fence:
Along the prom again, there were yet more bird artefacts, together with once-impressive but fading seaside buildings:
And before we departed we had of course to pay homage to Eric, proudly wearing his binoculars on the edge of one of the most important sites for wetland birds in the country. Sadly, he didn’t manage to bring us any sunshine for the rest of our trip…
It’s getting to that time of life when I am increasingly excited at getting my bus pass (just a month to go!). So taking a bus ride seemed a good way to get into the mood. We headed a little way down to the village of Heysham, to seek out an appealing looking ruin, St Patrick’s Chapel, happily screened from the ferryport and nuclear power stations.
A short walk past walls dripping in spleenworts brought us first to St Peter’s Church, its churchyard filled with flowering crocuses and running down to the cliff slopes.
The church was almost crypt-like in proportions, no doubt keeping a low profile from the teeth of salt-laden winds.
Inside, it felt very serene, and laced with intriguing history, including a Viking hog’s-back and a stone cross from a century earlier, both intricately carved. It really felt like it justified its Grade 1 listing, but given it is believed to be one of the earliest sites of Christian worship in Western Europe, with parts dating back possibly to the 6th century, the fact we were there alone was remarkable. And delightful! There is something so magnetic about carved rock, and we were happily transported back to two previous places of wonderful carvings, the Govan Stones near Glasgow and the church at Llantwit Major.
Then perched on the rocky knoll above the church was St Patrick’s Chapel, now ruined. From the 8th century, it postdates the founding of the church but predates the bulk of the present church building. Despite their exposed location, battered by wind, water and salt, the rocks and walls are still encrusted with lichens and wreathed in ferns.
And around the ruins, there were the rock-hewn coffins, dating from the 11th century, brought to wide notice on the cover of an album by Black Sabbath.
Such a swirl of intertwined history, and it came as no surprise to read when we returned home that the site was actually occupied some 12,000 years ago as the last Ice Age retreated into the depths of memory. Places separated by the centuries but connected through the very rock on which they stand, the recall of the ages. Very special indeed, bearing a windswept serenity, redolent of Lindisfarne or Iona or St Davids without the hordes….
As we headed on to our second location, again by bus, cloud turned to drizzle, and eventually to rain which stayed with us for the whole of our time in Lancaster. Such is the West Coast! And so after a short walk along the banks of the Lune, we felt fully justified in taking refuge in the Three Mariners for a drink, fortification for the steep slog up the hill to the Priory. But even the rain didn’t send the Sage Leafhoppers scurrying for cover!
While not having the same aura as the morning’s church, the Priory did feature historic artefacts, some fine modern stained glass (with yet more birds) and a warm welcome from the vicar without any expectation of religious observance.
Down the hill, past the Castle and more banks of flowering bulbs, we headed into town, dodging the worst of the rain in a café and charity shops.
The monumental stone buildings really didn’t look their best in the gloom, so as soon as we could we headed right through the city to our second hotel, the Toll House Inn.
Right next to the canal, before it got dark, a towpath walk was in order, to our next pub, the delightful Waterwitch.
After a good dinner and comfortable night at the Toll House, our third and final day dawned (just). Grey gloom and heavy rain almost all day kept us from venturing far, so a day of outstanding food and drink was in order, starting with the Toll House breakfast which I can say with certainty provided one of the very best full English breakfasts I have had during our two years of monthly short breaks. The local sausages and black pudding were just wonderful!
A super start to the day, giving us strength to face the rain and the frankly appalling busy roads just outside with no provision for pedestrian crossing. But safely back to the canal, we headed towards the Cathedral, welcome shelter among neo-gothic opulence.
And then next door, another excellent pub, the White Cross for a couple of drinks …
… before returning to the Waterwitch for the most wonderful late lunch, in fact, for me at least, some of the best food I have ever had. I opted for two starters – the creamiest seafood chowder followed by a medley of black puddings. Fantastic food in canalside surroundings, watching the rain, and contemplating the train ride home. Unfortunately, various delays en route meant our return home was an hour later than timetabled, but it did at least mean that our five hour train ride was free!















































































































































Everybody needs a sense of place, and every place needs people to have that sense, to love and nurture it, enjoy it and help keep it safe from the ravages of modern life. That is just what Jenny Coumbe has done here for a small part of the Tendring Peninsula in Essex, the area around her home. It is an area I know well, especially from a couple of decades ago and it is a pleasure to find out that much of what I remember still remains.


























































































































































































































































































































































































