Kirkcudbright

The beautiful weather has prompted me to come to Kirkcudbright. Beyond Dumfries everything was new to me, so I travelled with a sense of trepidation as well as excitement. Kirkcudbright is lovely, and I’m glad I’m visiting out of season. I arrived early enough to have time to walk around St Mary’s Isle (actually a dewdrop of a peninsula) – pleasant but unexciting and I’ve seen my first bluebells.

I can see that walking is not going to be easy here – which sounds silly when you consider Scotland’s right to roam. The problem is that I want a route – not a vast expanse to wander across ENE until grid ref such-and-such then NNE for a further mile. Basically I want public footpaths! Tomorrow I intend catching the bus to Dundrennan, so walking back to Kirkcudbright will be interesting.

I started re-reading Five Red Herrings over dinner.

Brougham

A walk I’ve done before from Penrith station, but this time I was leading a small group. We took in Penrith Castle, a war memorial from the Boer War, two Neolithic earthworks, Brougham Hall, the site of a Roman fort, Brougham Castle – and still they were up for looking at an Edward VIII postbox at the end. I put it down to the fine weather, which encouraged dawdling.

Walney Island

Barrow: a rather left-behind town where you see a group of naval officers in smart uniforms waiting to cross on the green man. Lots of once-prestigious Victorian and Edwardian civic buildings, all stripes and terracotta, announcing high ideals. It’s a pleasant train ride away, and there’s a bus to Walney Island – so what was I waiting for on so fine a day?

I walked along Biggar Bank to the South Walney nature reserve, looking out for the sight of seals’ heads bobbing about in the calm sea. At the very tip of the island I went into a hide, where a keen photographer pointed some out to me. One was basking – in that odd, crescent-moon position that makes them look as if they have found a new yoga posture – and others were swimming effortlessly. There were eiders too far out to be seen clearly, and Piel Island looked like something out of I Know Where I’m Going.

It would have been a long walk back, but fortunately a family I had chatted to in a hide stopped to offer me a lift on the road, saving me four miles of walking. And on the return journey I was unable to resist the temptation of stopping off at Arnside to eat fish and chips in the last of the sunshine. A perfect end to the day.

St Ninian’s Church

I was asked if I’d visited St Ninian’s Church outside Penrith beside the River Eden – so of course I had to see it.

It’s a redundant church in what is now the middle of nowhere. According to the information inside, the settlement around the original Norman church was razed in the thirteenth century to create a hunting ground for Whinfell Park. Lady Anne Clifford (her again) restored the church in 1660 and it has been little changed since. The family pews are Jacobean in style, and the pulpit stands among the congregation. It seemed so isolated that it was hard to think of it as connected to any community – but inside there was a stone in memory of an aristocrat who had died at Brougham Hall on her way to Scotland, and outside there was a tombstone for John Nelson, yeoman of Hornby Hall, which I passed on my very long and rather dull walk back to Appleby. (Whose parish church was also restored by Lady Anne.)

I mostly followed the River Eden – never quite out of earshot of the A66 – and then a very boggy Roman road back to Appleby. According to the map I also passed the sites of a Roman fort and fortlet – no sign of either, but I did come across the old railway line between Tebay and Stainmore a few times. The best sight after the church was a small flock of swans near Bolton: whooper or Bewick. They grew alarmed as I approached and soon flew away, leaving behind a small group of mute swans who couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

Glasgow

A few weeks ago I read about Margaret Watkins (1884-1969), a Canadian photographer who lived, worked and taught for several years in New York before travelling to Glasgow and getting stuck on the flypaper of domesticity. In New York she found success in advertising and in offering a new kind of abstract “kitchen sink” composition. The three eggs was the photograph that gripped me: the curves, the dark space – just wonderful. Strong geometry and sometimes a painterly style. (The dainty tea cup photograph is advertising cuticle cream.)

So off I went to Glasgow on a freezing day trip to visit the Hidden Lane Gallery off Argyll Street. En route I discovered – and was taken aback by – the City Free Church. I didn’t think Presbyterians went in for that kind of thing. It’s by Alexander Thomson and is currently unused – and what would you use if for now?


A quick visit to the Burrell Collection afterwards, where my steal would have been a Persian rug to bring the garden indoors in winter. I realise from my choice of photos here that I am longing for spring and the sense of nature re-awakening.