Hey Blog! On Tuesday I led my first session at Beavers, and since it went very well I thought I’d tell you all about it!
The Derbyshire Scout Archaeology Badge is a badge which I am familiar with. It is a new badge, set up by Morgause Lomas, an archaeologically minded Scout with a lockdown on her hands and a realisation that there was no badge in Scouting for archaeology. This first idea has grown into a campaign of annual digs or camps, such as the Willesley dig this summer, a Youth Committee (of which I am a member) and team of helpers, my Mum among them.
If you follow my posts, you will probably remember that I am in Explorers and also a Young Leader. This is a special category, where you are not an adult leader, but attend a younger section to help with sessions and get some practice leading groups. I help with the Beavers (aged 6-8) at my former group, which is nice as it means I have been in every section – Beavers (as a Young Leader), Cubs, Scouts, and Explorers. I’m not counting Squirrels as they didn’t exist when I joined. Being a Young Leader has mostly been attending, keeping the Beavers entertained and together if we’re out and about, and occasionally running one or two games. However, I realised the potential of leading a session for them to gain their DSA badge, and with some help, I persuaded both Morgause to help teach me how to run the session and the leaders to give me a night to run it.
I met with Morgause beforehand to discuss the running of the session and also helped at an archaeology session at another group to get some practice. I worked out the basic plan, ran that through, and practiced the words to say and the equipment to use. The Derbyshire Scout Archaeology team has five sandboxes with hidden finds such as pottery shards, buttons and coins, a set of trowels, and an immense amount of resources, so I had everything I needed to run the session. So when I went out on Tuesday night, I had everything waiting in the Scout Hut for me to use as I had dropped them off the previous night.
The session went well. The first step is to spell archaeology – it’s an 11-letter word, so for 6-year-olds it’s very long! Then, I talked them through what archaeology is, and next, set them up drawing things they thought were archaeology. After a guide to the different tools used by archaeologists, I split them into three groups and ran a carousel of jigsaws, Lego, and a go at ‘digging’ in the boxes. It wasn’t too hard; all I needed help with was running two of the three simultaneous activities, keeping the Beavers listening, and with the timings. I was impressed with how well I handled it, and I would love to do more in future! I’m planning a second session so that my Beavers can complete their badge, and apparently I might be top of the list for the people Morgause is thinking of passing the badge on to!
Hey Blog! Very short post today. This week I’ve been catching up on science, so I thought I’d tell you about it!
As you probably know, I was in France a couple of weeks ago. This meant that I missed a few science classes I’m doing, so I have had to catch them up. I haven’t quite finished, however, I have done some things, so I’ll tell you what I’ve done.
There are traditionally three disciplines of science: Biology (the study of living things), Chemistry (the study of chemicals and substances), and Physics (the study of physical forms and forces). I think it would be better if they were taught together, as each contributes to the others. I have been learning all three, with a programme I have recently discovered, called South West Science. It is an amazing platform which gives a good coverage of iGCSE science, which I plan to take in 2026. I have covered seven weeks already, but I’m still catching up assignments from earlier weeks. (That reminds me – I need to do that assignment for week 6 that’s still on my desk!) however, from what I have done with it, it is absolutely amazing! It is comprehensive, concise, detailed, and fun. However, my favourite kind of science is practical: the experiments, the doing, and the use in real-life situations. I use it in woodturning, in making things, in my shed, and in climbing trees (though I don’t have to think about it when I’m half-way up a tree!). Sometimes I am in the middle of an activity and suddenly start thinking about the transitions between forms of energy, or I might be chatting with friends and suddenly come out with a random fact which links tenuously to something someone mentioned. This is why I am known, besides KitKat, as The Encyclopaedia. Yes, I love science!
Bonjour Blog! Continuing the French theme, I’ll be writing about breakfasts this week, and putting two of them head-to-head – in one corner, the mighty Full English, and in the other, the majestic Continental!
While in France, I had an average of around 1.5 breakfasts a day, not counting brunch or a cup of coffee on its own. I have now patronised a café in most of the major towns of Normandy, it seems. The stereotypical French breakfast is the espresso and croissant, sometimes with some beurre/butter and freshly squeezed jus d’orange/orange juice (which tastes AMAZING), and is a delicate mix of mostly caffeine and carbs. In truth, almost all the French breakfasts I had were exactly like that. Lunch was also delicious. It seems everything in France tastes awesome!
As for England – generally it’s one breakfast a day, with the stereotype being a large plate of sausage, bacon, hash browns, baked beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, scrambled or poached egg, black pudding, and perhaps a small dish of brown sauce on the side, served with tea – a broad-brushed mix of carbs, oils, and meat. There is a lot of that available, and very tasty it is too. It’s also rather expensive to have it every day. Lunch and dinner have less nationalities attached to them than breakfast, it appears!
They each have various merits for me. I like the larger size of the English breakfast. However, it is quite rich; I have a policy of always clearing my plate so I simply decide to have a smaller lunch instead! The French breakfast is certainly more delicate and I love the variety of pastries (when they’re properly made only; many places in England make them dry, crusty and squishy), but then again, many places don’t make English breakfasts properly either. You probably know I simply cannot pick favourites, but I think the best thing for me to have is a light English (one bacon, one sausage, one hash brown, one poached egg) followed by a small plate of French (one croissant, one pain-au-chocolat, one cup of coffee) – that’s everything, thank you waiter!
Bonjour Blog! The Norman in Normandy has been explored, now some more recent history. WWII started 85 years ago, but that is still 6 times as long as I’ve been alive. Even if that isn’t very long and people still remember it. Normandy was on the front line for a large portion of the events in 1944, and as such still bears the scars.
Some background: Adolf Hitler, Chancellor of the German Reich, had started WWII by marching though Poland. He was a member of the Nazi party, an ultra-right wing fascist group, hated social misfits, believed the Jews were the cause of Germany’s problems, and spurned the Treaty of Versailles. By the declaration of war, a system of alliances through Europe and beyond was triggered, which caused an even bigger conflict than WWI, the so-called “war to end all wars”. France was overrun, and the small, puppetesque Vichy government was set up. Hitler set his eyes on Britain next, as it was the last major nation still fighting. However, the Japanese, allied to Germany, attacked the USA, which brought the US into the war. Out of paranoia and fear the Russians would go back on their word of nonaggression, Hitler attached eastwards as well as west. The Soviets retaliated. On the west, the German Luftwaffe failed to beat the RAF, and Britain, America, British Canada, and the few members of Free France in exile who joined, led by General de Gaulle, planned an invasion.
This is D-day. The plan composed was to land an invasion on the Normandy coast, sweep through France, and push back to Germany. A massive bombing campaign would clear the area, combined with parachutists, glider landers, and Free France undercover agents, to inhibit Nazi messages and allow Allied access to important sites. Then, the landings would take place, transporting an invasion force on to five beaches – codenamed Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha, and Utah beaches. Floating harbours would allow supplies to be passed over, and with luck France would be swiftly liberated.
The whole campaign was planned meticulously. Nothing was left unprepared for (well, perhaps toilets in a few places!). So precise was it that one squadron arrived at their allotted rendez-vous only two minutes after time, even while being under fire and crossing several miles of enemy terrain. After the bombs dropped over Caen and other towns, parachutists dropped over Normandy countryside. Gliders also landed at Pegasus Bridge, the two bridges over the river and canal, right next to each other, where the 6th air division took and held the bridges. All of these simultaneous attacks managed to disorientate and confuse the Nazi command, which let the preparations for D-day succeed in their objective. Then, at dawn on 6th June 1944, the invasion force landed on the coast. German Panzer divisions moved to stop them, but were beaten back as the invasion grew. The British put pressure on the defending armies on the eastern beaches, almost breaking through and capturing Caen, but did not succeed for a month. Because of reinforcements there, the Americans on the western beaches managed to push further inland, liberating Bayeux (which became the capital of Free France until the liberation of Paris). Swinging round southwest, the entire Allied force took Caen, before pressing on out of Normandy towards Paris, Germany, and Berlin.
This story is told in the Mémorial de Caen, the Bataille de Normandie museum, the Pegasus Bridge museum, and many books. However, it is impossible to understand the true horror of WWII. There is too much trauma, terror, and horror in the activities of both sides, from concentration camps to atomic bombs, to know it as those lived it felt it. In particular, the Mémorial blew me away – I walked in, and by the time I walked out I felt I had, in experience terms, aged a year in the process. Normandy has all these relics, which speak of the history. Go if you can, as it must be remembered. There is so much more I could write about these places, but this will do: We will remember them.
Bonjour Blog! You might well have already guessed where I am, but if not – I’m in France! Caen in Normandy, to be precise – and I have been on a history tour of the local area, from the châteaux (castles) to les églises (churches) to the individual items that make up part of the eternal and infinite story that is history. Normandy’s story seems to be Norman castles interspersed with WWII tanks, which shouldn’t go together but do in Normandy! The name Normandy comes from its namesake inhabitants – the Normans – whose name in turn stems from “North-men” – the Vikings under Rollo who invaded northern France at the end of the first millennium. They gained the title “Dukes of Normandy”, and this powerful dynasty held Normandy until the 13th century, when, due to a series of defeats, Henry II and his sons went from the entire enormous Angevin Empire, one of the largest in Europe at the time, to just ruling England.
Of the history I have been learning so far, half is those WWII tanks and other historical artefacts and documents (next post), and half is the Norman castles. These are all in some way related to one incredible figure, in both French and English history. The royal man I am speaking of is Guillaume le Conquérant, William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, King of England; the son of the brother of Emma of Normandy, wife of Knut; husband of Matilda of Flanders; William the Bastard and the only Frenchman ever to win a war with England, in the final time Britain would be overrun by invaders with fire and the sword.
1066 – the date is graven into the memory of all those who have studied any English history. For this reason it is one of the only two ‘memorable’ dates, that is, according to Sellar and Yeatman in 1066 and all that. The outline of the year is told on the Bayeux Tapestry, one of the most astounding artefacts and the first known comic strip. I certainly prefer it to the modern ones. It goes something like this.
King Edward the Confessor – “Hey, Harold Godwinson, go across the channel and tell William of Normandy I’ve decided he’s my heir. When I die, he’s king, ok?”
Harold – “Ok Ed I’ll go tell him”
(Harold gets a boat across the channel. The boat is shipwrecked, and the company is captured. William learns of this and ransoms Harold.)
William – “Ok Harold I hear Ed wants to make me king after he dies. Will you swear allegiance to me as your future king?”
Harold – “Sure!”
(William has prepared the table with the bones of saints to prevent Harold breaking his oath. Harold takes it, but does not intend to keep it – he quite likes the idea of being king. Once back in Britain…)
Edward – “You did it right?” (shortly after dies)
Harold – “Yeah. I did, and – wait – you’re dead. Oh goodie! That means I can be king now!”
(The Wittain parliament elect Harold king – they don’t like the idea of a foreigner ruling. William prepares for an invasion, to claim his crown.)
William (on arriving in England) – “I have taken possession of England and will defend it with my blood. Charge boys!”
(The Battle of Hastings. Harold gets hit in the eye with a Norman arrow, and dies. The Normans have won. On Christmas Day, William is crowned.)
It is a wonderful story, stitched in 10 dyes on a linen banner over 70 metres long and half a metre high with 58 known scenes and the most incredible detail in both the main narrative and the border panels, and certainly deserves its reputation and status as a Memory of the World artefact. There is an entire museum dedicated to it and its preservation, which we visited. Do visit it, because It. Is. Awesome! Commissioned by William’s half-brother Odo, it hung in Bayeux church for a month every year at first, before nearly being used as a tarpaulin in the French Revolution (but was saved just in time) and then used by Napoleon as propaganda before preparing to invade England – he failed, and was beaten at Trafalgar. After that, it was slowly forgotten and not known of professionally until the late 1800s. Quite an incredible story for a piece of needlework nearly a thousand years old!
We have also been to William’s Castle in Caen. Built under his orders, it is an impressive feat of stonework, and very beautiful – unfortunately the inside of it was literally blown to bits in WWII, by the bombers preparing Normandy for D-day operations (which is what next post is about!). It now houses the Normandy Museum, which tells you the entire story of Normandy from the neanderthals to the present day; and the Musée des Beaux-arts, which we didn’t visit. The complex is currently undergoing redevelopment so we couldn’t go around much, but from what I can see the few Norman bits left look good. There is another Norman castle, in far better condition, which we also went to see – this is Falaise castle, where William was born to Robert the Magnificent, Duke of Normandy, and Arlette, a tanner’s daughter. Hence why people called him “William the Bastard”. Then he must have made them all feel a bit stupid by conquering England, after which they called him “le Conquérant” instead. Bit funny, really – the monarchy in mediaeval and Tudor times was obsessed with legitimate sons, and yet they’re all descended from an illegitimate son of a tanner’s beautiful daughter and her local lord. The castle is situated on a natural hill overlooking the town (which is actually built inside what is effectively an outer bailey) and was fought over between the English and the French in the Hundred Years War, and then between the Allies and the Germans in WWII.
The French were ultimately victorious in both these wars, as the English lost the Hundred Years War and after a period of occupation, the Allies, including France, pushed the Nazis back. (The Germans had built an anti-tank gun on top of the tower in the meantime.) Falaise is one of the best castles I have ever been in – and I’ve been in lot – but then the English castles were all destroyed in the civil war by the parlimentarians to stop royalist uprisings, whereas the French were not. The rooms still stand though some of the floors are replaced and some damage during WWII has been repaired with concrete blocks. VR tablets are available, and there are scanner points around the castle to allow you to see how it would have been in William the Conqueror’s day. There are also projections which show the lords of Falaise, including William the Conqueror himself, his son Henry I who built the keep, and Philip Augustus the French king who took back all the French territories which other countries ruled. It is a magnificent testimony to the Norman Dukes and Kings, whose work is still standing.
Falaise castle!
Finally, in 1087, William the Conqueror died after being impaled on his saddle pommel. His death was rather gross as it involved a ruptured bowel, which did not please the noses of the monks who buried him! This burial was in the Abbey he founded – the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, in Caen; just round the corner from where were staying. Of course, we had to go and see. A slab with gold lettering proclaims his tomb – here lies William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, King of England. The Bastard, the Duke, the King, the Conqueror – what a story!
Hey Blog! This week is going back to the mediaeval period (again!) for some more discoveries, to Leicester for a museum, and a car park for a notable mediaeval monarch.
“Now is the winter of our discontent,
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;”
Begins Shakespeare’s play Richard III. It reads like one of his Tragedies – throughout the play, lords and ladies fall ill and die or get their heads loped off even faster than in Alice in Wonderland: Clarence, Grey, Rivers, Vaughan, Queen Alice, Hastings, and finally Gloucester/King Richard III – all dead. But it is in fact a History – a play based on fact, not fiction, and recent history at that. When the great Bard was writing, in the late 1500s, it was only a hundred years earlier that Richard III, last of the Plantagenet kings, had been killed with a blow to his head while at the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485, supposedly crying “A horse, a horse! My Kingdom for a horse!” – perhaps the most famous line in the play. And while much of the decoration in the lines and even the underlying theme, of the hunchbacked usurping tyrant who murders his nephews and most of his family to claim the crown, is Tudor propaganda, some fact remains.
At the point when Richard, Duke of Gloucester, was alive, England was recently over the Huundred Years’ War with France and still going with the Wars of the Roses. The White Rose of York, led by King Edward IV and later King Richard III had recently triumphed over the Red Rose of Lancaster, led by Henry VI and his wife Queen Margaret; but the Lancastrian Henry Tudor of Richmond was in exile in France, waiting to come over and win at Bosworth (thus becoming King Henry VII). When his brother the king died, the Duke of Gloucester moved swiftly and rose to power as king. He was a good and strong ruler, and kept the country peaceful – until Henry Tudor came over and won the Battle of Bosworth, struck Richard down with the help of the Stanley family, and started the Tudor dynasty. Then, to put his claim to the throne beyond the doubting minds, he claimed that Richard had not been the rightful ruler, and moreover, he was wicked. Unfortunately for Richard, that is the view that has stayed.
Or at least, it has stayed till now. A few years ago, the Richard III society was granted permission to dig up the council carpark in Leicester. The church of Greyfriars was supposed to be underneath it, and that is where Henry VII brought Richard III’s body from Bosworth. Incredibly, they were right on top of the church. Even more incredibly, they were in the choir – the most important burial site. And against all odds, there was a skeleton with severe, but not disabling, sclerosis of the spine, and wounds in the skull. A hunchback with head wounds – the long-lost king?!
Over the course of the investigation, with the aid of DNA tests, radiocarbon dating, pathologists and archaeologists, it was proved that this was indeed the last Plantagenet monarch. It was a near miracle, to find, on day one, the exact skeleton you were looking for – pretty much an unheard-of feat. So don’t go looking for a king in your local car park (unless you live next to the Tower of London and you want to find Edward V, the prince in the Tower that Richard is reputed to have murdered – even though it’s not very likely that he did!), because chances are you will be disappointed. Go and check out the visitor centre on the site of the Leicester dig instead – I can certainly recommend it. You will be shown around the full story, and if that’s not enough, you can also go to the battle site, a few miles away. There is also a documentary called The King in the Car Park, which tells the story.
Even though the King himself may have been dead for more than 500 years, memory is alive and well. People still have divided opinions on his true character, but one thing’s for sure – this mediaeval monarch will still be inspiring people for a long time to come.
Hey Blog! Last weekend I went on a visit to Durham, for a history field trip, and so that is the subject of today’s post.
As you probably know, I do lessons with Humanatees, run by Jake. The current one is a history GCSE, and I am on the Conflict in Asia unit it the moment. One of the units I haven’t got to yet is the Normans unit, and the case study for that is Durham Cathedral. The field trip for history, therefore, is going to Durham to have a look round the cathedral and the castle next to it. I went up on the train, and therefore had a very good view out of the window before arriving.
The first impression is of a small castle. Yes, you heard that correctly – small. You wouldn’t think castles are small, but this one is – at least, compared to the cathedral next to it. The castle only has three floors and a small mote, but the cathedral is far larger – more than twice as high, it is slender and graceful and reaches up to the sky. Imagine the Norman peasants looking up, and seeing that – from a short distance, it seems massive. When you’re close to it, it might not seem as big – but when you’re at the top of the tower it seems tallest of all.
There is a reason for this massive building being built here, in the north of England, on a windy hill – it is here that St. Cuthbert was carried from Lindisfarne, Holy Isle, before the Vikings attacked. For some background: Cuthbert became a monk after experiencing visions in connection to another missionary who lived in the area. He moved about the country becoming bishop of several different areas, and some 11 years after he died, when the monks went to move him to a different resting place, they found his body uncorrupted, which was enough to prompt the church to make him a saint. His body was moved, to avoid the Vikings, and the monks took with them a set of gospels, inked on Lindisfarne (the “older sister” of the Lindisfarne Gospels), his elaborate coffin, and a few treasures; and set off for the place which had been told to them in dreams. With the aid of a milkmaid and a lost cow, which showed them where to go, they arrived at Durham. When the monks discovered that the coffin was unable to be moved, they built a cathedral around it, and this was the early church. Later, William the Conqueror rebuilt it even bigger and better. The Venerable Bede was also interred in the cathedral, and when William wanted to instate a bishop of his own choosing, it gave rise to the Prince Bishops of Durham. This role, both religious and secular, with the seat of power being the resting place of more than one saint and an imposing, ancient cathedral, made the Prince Bishops a great power of the north.
Back to the trip. We walked up to the cathedral in the morning, and met Jake – who had been having issues with trains and arrived at the time of the tour, rather than half an hour before it! It was only then we realised the tour didn’t exist – the guide was not there. So we had to make our own way round, luckily with the help of one student who had been there before. Among the features of the cathedral are:
The tower, which is reached by a series of very long spiral staircases, getting narrower and narrower before emerging on a small square of roof from which you can see for miles
The resting places of the two saints mentioned above
The sanctuary ring (gives the claimer religious sanctuary: invoke this and you have about a month to hide from the law, during which time you conduct yourself as a monk. After the term is up, you have the option to submit to punishment or escape into exile.).
Cuthbert’s Cross, a small gold and gemstone pectoral cross found in his coffin a century or two ago.
The pillars, each of which are differently carved, and rise beautifully to the ceiling high above
The font, a sculpted masterpiece of wooden decoration
And the cathedral itself, which is more than beautiful on its own, but looks even more stunning with its contents
The castle was interesting too; we went there separately, not on the field trip, the day after. It is a motte and bailey castle (I always find this type of castle interesting, since Bailey is my surname – perhaps I need to marry someone with the surname of Motte?) built by the Normans to stop the Scots invading. First Hadrian’s wall, now a chain of castles – what did people have against the Scots so much?! It is now a university, so you get to live in the castle at uni – that would be amazing! Apparently, the great hall of the castle was the inspiration for the great hall at Hogwarts, and a few scenes of the Harry Poter films were filmed in the cathedral cloisters. I would love to go back to Durham, as there was not enough time to see everything, and so I hope to do more visits and field trips like this in the future!
Hey Blog! A few weeks ago, I went cycling on the Monsal Trail with a friend, and this week went around Carsington Water, and that’s what I’ll be writing about today!
I met this particular friend last year, and one of the first things we found was we had the exact same birthday – which was a good starting point! A little while ago we hatched a plan to go cycling on the trails in the Peak District, and decided on the Monsal trail as a good place to go, seeing as we had met there before, so we met at the café near Bakewell where the waxwings were last year. Thus the plan was formed.
The Peak District trails are really old railway lines. In the early 1800s, after the first steam train, Stephenson’s Rocket, was built, everyone wanted a railway line. They were fast, efficient, reliable, and the best mode of transport at the time. When, later, these lines across the Peaks were decommissioned, they became walking and cycling trails – ideal, because they are flat for ease of travelling! The Monsal Trail, which we went on, ran from Bakewell to Chee Dale, and passes through a fair few tunnels on its northern section. A little spooky at the point on the curve where you can’t see daylight – but amazingly cool! We went from the old station where we met, all the way to the far end, and then back to the station, talking all the while; before cycling the other way and getting to the other end, then turning round and going back again! In total, therefore, we cycled the entire length twice – once each way – which was rather fun!
The second meet was at Carsington, this last week. We had conspired another plan to go around the lake, and almost decided on going paddleboarding, but unfortunately that had to be postponed until we had more time (that is probably going to be the next meet or the one after!). After meeting at the visitor centre we waved farewell to parents and set off again. Once again, we did not pause for breath to stop the conversation all the way round the lake (well, except when we couldn’t stop laughing!). With wind flying past as we sped along and the lake sparkling below, we got round the lake quite quickly. The lake, it may interest you to know, is not even a natural lake. It was built as a reservoir in the 1970s into the -80s, before being opened in 1992, and on some old maps you can see “reservoir under construction”. When flooded, it drowned an RAF bombing training tower from WWII, a large amount of farmland, and created a recreation spot (I did my RYA levels 1 through 3 on the lake, and the cycling was another example), a store for the local water company, and the nearest place where you can go on a boat which isn’t on a river. In all, perfect!
We are in the process of constructing more plans, including a paddleboarding one, some more cycling, and possibly something else too. In all, I’m glad we met, and I look forward to more similar days out in the future!
Hey Blog! This week it’s another book review, and this time I’m going to the Lake District through the ever-expanding bookverse of my library!
One of my favourite series of books is the Swallows and Amazons series, by Arthur Ransom. Top notch books, these are some of the most exiting adventure novels ever written. All the more so because they could be done by any group of children and teens interested in desert islands, sailing, birds, gold mining, and exploration. I have been mildly obsessed by these books, to the extent that I once turned half a blue oil barrel into a tiny boat and sailed around the garden, before actually going to the local lake for real sailing. And then going back the next year for more, and the year after that, and then out at sea on Johanna Lucretia earlier this year. If you read the first few pages of Swallows and Amazons and want no more, call a doctor – as someone reviewing them once said!
The whole storyline starts off with John, Susan, Titty and Roger awaiting the go-ahead for using the dinghy in the boathouse to get to the island viewable halfway down the lake (which resembles both Coniston and Windermere). These four are the Swallows – Captain, Mate, Able-seaman and Ship’s Boy – named after the dinghy Swallow. Arriving on the island, they find they are not alone: ‘natives’ have been there, evident in the white cross on the stump in the harbour and the neat pile of firewood in the best spot for a camp. Then there is the man on the houseboat, who carries a cannon on its foredeck – and “ships with no secrets do not generally carry even one”. All seems to be going well, and then the strange dinghy Amazon with two girls sailing it and a pirate flag at the masthead sails round the island, a chase begins, and an arrow with a green feather is fired into camp – and so begins a treaty of offence and defence between the Swallows and Amazons, an alliance against the houseboat man Uncle Jim/Captain Flint, and a war!
Aside from getting me into sailing, it inspired me with exploration of islands, waterways, camping, boats and having a gang of friends to go off on adventures with. Unfortunately, I have never been able to explore the local lake and land on the islands; but I have been camping. Not on an island in a lake though. The worst thing, however, is I don’t have a bunch of nautically minded friends who wish to make our own voyage of discovery. Still looking though!
If you read the first book and like it, there are others waiting. Next up is Swallowdale, which involves a shipwreck (one of the finest pieces of writing – even knowing what is going to happen whenever I read it, it still feels like it could have not happened!); Peter Duck, which includes an old sailor from clipper days and a race across the Atlantic for treasure; and Winter Holiday, which includes two new characters, the Ds, and a journey across the ice-bound lake for the North Pole. And there are more! I am currently part way through Pigeon Post, and the Swallows, Amazons and Ds are gold mining. I am proud to have these books on my bookshelf – and will certainly be reading them long into the future, perhaps when I have a boat of my own!
I have a thing for books. Having bought two and borrowed five the past two weeks I have spent nearly every morning so far with my nose buried in a book. Most I buy, from my selection of bookshops near me. However, recently I have got back into borrowing books, from the local library; I have started meeting friends there most weeks now, since it is a nice place to go, so I will be telling you about it later in the post. But first, some more on me and libraries in general.
When I lived in Barbados, I was small and raring to read. Once I had started reading, I wanted books all the time, and I was a regular at the public library. Unfortunately at that time, a child library card only borrowed two books, so I had to use Mum and Dad’s cards as well, if I wanted enough books to get me through a few weeks. Later, when we had come back to the UK, I started using the Belper library, which was a small cozy place, very serviceable for an eight-year-old’s imagination, and allowed me to borrow a lot more books! This is when I made the big shift from mostly reading factual books to mostly reading fictional books. But there was never much space in the library, so there was not as much to choose from. I found the delight of having your own books which you can read whenever you want, found Scarthin Books and the Oxfam Bookshop, the library closed to relocate a little down the road, and then came covid.
It took longer for the new library to open than planned, as it was moved to the same building as a care home. It wouldn’t be good if every Tom, Dick and Harry marched in to borrow books while transmitting deadly viruses. However, even if it took a while, the library is amazing. It is tall, airy, full of light and books, with much larger sections of different genres. Even better, it has a café attached, so we often go for lunch or a coffee and then to the library. When I do, I mostly read several books and then frantically borrow them just before it’s time to go, as I can’t read them all! This is the trouble with me and libraries/bookshops – I read most of the book before I borrow/buy it!
I can definitely recommend the use of a library. It is free – if not for the lunch at a café – and doesn’t clutter your house with hundreds of books (our house is nearly full, from my purchases!) because you return them before they get annoying by taking up too much space. I am glad there is one so near, and I look forward to using it still more!
