Hot As Madrid



The former Osmaston Hall

 Apparently it was as hot in Derbyshire today as it was in Madrid.  Wow!  Certainly a very warm and beautifully sunny day. 

We went for a walk at a place I had never explored before - Osmaston estate near Ashbourne.  There used to be a huge Italianate house here in Victorian times, but it was demolished in the 1960s.  The pretty estate village remains.  It its one of the few places in Derbyshire where there are many thatched cottages.  Obviously the folks at the big house liked their villages rustic and picturesque.

We walked past the bustling Shoulder of Mutton pub and the diminutive village post office ("Ring for attention"), and turned left at the village duck pond.  Several people had set up deckchairs by the water and were enjoying the sunshine.

Another pretty cottage in the village

There was a lovely old tree in a field by the footpath.  It had a swing and it was very tempting to have a go, but I felt a bit sorry for the tree!  Here I am trying to take a photo of it with my tablet PC.



Descending a slope we came to the estate water mill, a building with a somehow Alpine look to it. 

Its delapidation only makes it more picturesque.  We especially liked the tufty ferns sprouting from the roof tiles.























From thence we made our way across fields for a mile or so until we reached the charming hamlet of Shirley.  Here there is a remarkable 'survivor' tree.  It is built into the wall of the village church, and the metal fence along the top of the wall goes through it.  The tree has at some point been cut down to a stump, yet still has twigs and bugs growing, despite being completely hollow and riddled with woodworm!

Across from the tree and the church is the Saracen's Head pub, which is very neatly kept.  Inside the hostelry everyone was happily nibbling on tasty roast dinners http://www.saracens-head-shirley.co.uk/  Only having a fiver on us and being as we were saving up for our holidays we could only afford a cup of tea and an orange juice.  So we sat at a bench outside and dribbled over the puddings menu (eg "Vanilla Pan Cotta with Lavender Cookies").

After leaving Shirley our route led through some dry sandy fields.  The fields had a spring green colour to them and the sky was impossibly blue.  It certainly didn't feel like March.  I collected some of the pebbles which filled the fields, intending to take them home and make them into owls for the garden.

From thence into a quiet wetland area.  Someone had constructed an very sturdy boardwalk to carry the footpath over a marshy area of rushes.  It was nice to sit and bask on the boardwalk for a while.


Then into some conifer woodland and eventually we emerged to a small lake.  From the shore, the one remaining tower of former Osmaston Hall could be seen in the far distance, cloaked by trees.  Along the lake was a line of alders, their roots making little islands along the water's edge.

Up a steep incline past a twisted stag headed oak and then out through the tall gateway that once led to the hall, back to the pretty "village ornee" of Osmaston for a cup of tea and a slice of cake which we had brought along with us.  What a nice walk!

Round Press on a Sunny Day

"Press" is a funny name for a village. It's a straggle of cottages located in a rather backwater area of North East Derbyshire between the former industrial towns of Wingerworth and Clay Cross and the countryside heading over towards Wooley Moor and Ogston Reservoir.  There is a series of three small reservoirs at Press, created for heaven knows what purpose but these days a haunt for fishermen. 


Outside Mr Sleigh's Manor House


It being an unseasonably sunny day last Sunday (11th March) we set off on the footpath between reservoirs one and two, and soon found ourselves in a muddy, unmade lane.  The 17th century stone manor house close by (Manor Farm these days) was apparently once Derbyshire's most hard to access pub.  In one direction is the rutted and unsurfaced lane, and in the other a very narrow gated road.  Today I suppose it might create a niche market by advertising itself as some kind of four-wheel drive challenge, but back in the day it must have been nigh on impossible to get too, even if you knew where to look.  Our guidebook said the manor was built by one Samuel Sleigh, who also gave his name to nearby Sleigh Woods.


The splendid post box



After crossing several fields and stiles (including one with a lot of frogs) we arrived at a footpath eandering around the perimeter of Stubbing Hall Park.  The hall is a Georgian building. 

The footpath passes its former Home Farm, and a couple of cottages, one of which had a spendid ornamental hen house complete with cockeral weather vane, and a very fancy wrought iron letter box.

At the road junction are a few houses and a Methodist chapel called Salem ("Peace" in Hebrew) which - by the number of cars parked outside and the enthusiastic singing coming from within - is a very popular place of worship.  There was a funny story in the guidebook about the evangelical preacher who built it having a fall out with local worthy Sir Henry Hunloke and being prevented from buying stone for the chapel in any of the local quarries, all of which were owned by grumpy Sir Henry.

Nearby is the "Great Pond of Stubbing" - now a tranquil reservoir.  It must be the same age as the hall.  A small boathouse on the far bank looked appealling.

The Great Pond of Stubbing


The path now wound in the direction of Wingerworth, taking the form of stepping stones set in grass.  Presumably these prevented Non Conformist Victorian ladies from soiling their dresses whilst walking through the fields to chapel. Up a steep bank and onto the road then up another even steeper incline, this one a narrow road leading into trees.  There was a fine sunny view over fields below, starting to look green again after winter, due to the sunshine.

Through and out of the woods, our path started to descend.  We stopped to say hello to a friendly donkey and to admire the view which must be enjoyed fron the modern red brick house at the top of the ridge, with its many balconies and terraces.

Heading back towards Press and Northledge hamlets, we passed a cottage with three alpacas in a field outside.  They came over to the fence curiously and then frolicked, rolling in the dust.  They were odd looking creatures, with large long lashed eyes and what looked like furry leggings. Ahhh!





February In Monsall Dale

 This weekend we went for a short walk in Monsall Dale, starting from White Lodge and walking up to Monsall Head. 

Along the way there is an impressive waterfall, where a rescue team was practising, with the aid of a huge Newfoundland rescue dog called Tugs.

Lesley was wearing a new Fairisle hat that she recently knitted.

We stopped for refreshments at the teashop at the head of the gorge, and sat outside to enjoy the great view.  Inside the cafe is a small craft shop where we admired a picture by artist Catriona Hall of the dale. I am a fan of her work.

After our short stroll it was still early in the afternoon, so we went to Bakewell for a browse around the shops.  I managed to resist the siren call of the chip shop!

A Chilly Day at Hardwick Hall

I had a minor fall out with Tom, my Sat Nav, who tried to take us on a scenic trip round the back streets of Clay Cross and then directed us down a lane which seemed to get narrower and narrower. The fact that it had grass growing down the middle was also not reassuring.  Yet, unexpectedly, we popped out at the right place. 

There was a hard frost when we arrived at 11am and parked at Stainsby Mill for a walk in Hardwick Hall park.  It later turned out that we shouldn't have parked there, because the walk started somewhere else entirely, but that's what you get for relying on an inadequate sketch map with no scale.  However, the drive was at least dry and ice free.  After meandering round the hill and past some very aged and twisted oaks, we finally came within sight of both the Old and New Hardwick Hall, though the last is somewhat of a misnomer of course. 

The building looked, as ever, imposing and slightly fantastical, its chimneys and finials bristling.  She was no modest woman that Bess, her initials on the turrets must be several feet high.  Sadly the hall shuts for winter, but the snack shack was open as was the Old Hall.  We bought a postcard and sympathised with the attendant in his draughty lobby. 

The Old Hall

Lesley firmly ensconced in her new winter jacket.

After our walk we were still early enough to find plenty of space at the cosy Hardwick Inn, a pub I had never visited before.  Though by no means picturesque inside (the 1980's artex style plastering a little too freely applied) it serves a wide range of affordable hearty meals.  Lesley and I chose a roast dinner each and I tried a half of Bess of Hardwick Bitter - an excellent brew.  We did not expect to be able to clear our loaded plates, but the frost and a walk had obviously made us hungrier than we thought, for somehow most of it disappeared.

A half circuit of the Millers' Pond brought us back to the car, the sun making a brief appearance.