Holiday Frolics

Work has been abandoned for a couple of weeks, and on Thursday I journeyed to a small town outside Nottingham.  Approached from the north-west, much of the town is hidden by the rolling meadows, but towering above it is the solid, square, blackened tower of the parish church, rebuilt, I believe, after a fire in the mid-nineteenth century.  This morning I had great pleasure in ringing before the morning service on their famous ring of eight bells - arguably the finest ring in the shire!

But the first adventure I want to tell you about took place yesterday evening.  It was fascinating, although for me it didn't live quite up to its published description.  It took place at a ridiculously early 7.0pm, and was advertised as the Ghost Walk.  A bus from my lodging and a brisk walk took me swiftly to Ye Olde Salutation Inn in the centre of Nottingham.  I entered, and stood awkwardly in the bar, but my discomfort was allayed somewhat by a sign welcoming folks to wait and not feel obliged to buy a drink.

Gary - the Storyteller

Soon a peculiarly dressed chap arrived, whom I correctly guessed to be our guide, and at 7.0 he made a bold announcement in the bar.  We gathered outside and followed the eerie sound of his flute to the neighbouring graveyard for an introductory talk.  The evening wasn’t particularly spectral, and as we walked to Castlegate, the Olde Trip to Jerusalem, the Robin Hood statue in front of the castle gate, and finally to the caves beneath the Salutation, he told a succession of yarns that had some supernatural or potentially scary aspect.  Whether the tales were actually true, I wouldn’t like to say, but at least one was based on facts I’d read elsewhere.

This afternoon I stumbled upon an enthusiasts' 'gold mine'.  I visited an attraction called "Midland Railway - Butterley".  Strangely, the entrance and car park are some miles from the main features, so after establishing my entitlement to a concessionary admission ticket, I boarded a diesel unit to ride to the end of the line, near to the former junction with the main line that still runs between Nottingham and Sheffield, and then back to Swanwick Junction.

Here there was not only the anticipated collection of steam engines, both in steam and being repaired, carriages and wagons, but also a wide variety of other transport antiquities: veteran cars and classic coaches too.  And to crown it all, a tin chapel that had been transported from its original home, re-erected and established as a permanent part of the site.  Unfortunately I couldn't examine it properly, because it was fulfilling its present function as a meeting room for one of the societies taking part in today's activities.

I spent a while browsing in the many museums and workshops, all of which seemed to house stalls selling appropriate books and magazines.  These events always make me feel an outsider from the clearly dedicated, and inwardly-focused community whose lives seem to be completely devoted to these interests.  I did find one book that didn't evoke these feelings of inadequacy, but before I could be tempted further, the rain started.  I headed for the shelter of the station buildings but by good fortune just made it to a steam train that was standing in the station, on the point of departure for Butterley.

Here I simply had to linger - innocently - in yet another gift shop, before I considered that the rain had eased sufficiently for a comfortable dash to the car park where it had all begun.