Lockdown Travel: Nostalgia for Durham Walks

Well,  2020 - the year when things go from bad to worse on a daily basis. Thus far - let's not lose all optimism. The second half is often the better one.

Speaking of optimism, I had thought initially that coronavirus was serving some higher force's purpose, its aim being to nudge those of a certain age to step out of the way and let the next generation take over. However, now that I've witnessed the pointless chaos of the continuing riots in various western cities, in which the participants seem mainly to be youthful, I think that is a very bad idea indeed and no sensible higher force would be in favour of such a thing.

The mad displays of anger and mindless violence across America, and the demonstrations elsewhere, probably do arise in part from the sheer frustration of being young and stuck indoors during lockdown and becoming increasingly fed up. All the same, I don't believe the wild behaviour is helping the cause, (even if you believe in it). And, whatever your opinion, the spectacle is ugly.

I have no idea what the solution is, and so my reaction is to stick my head firmly in the sand - and hence this post.

For, when I say sand, what I actually mean is my photograph collection, where I find evidence that there is a nice world out there and, when we are all free to go out and about and wander through each others' countries admiring things, there is a lovely time to be had. Until we can - and it is worth remembering that, however bad the aftermath of the current pandemic, we are at least not facing an actual major war; the landscape and the built environment will remain unscarred by coronavirus - I find it calming to revisit earlier travels. Today, for the third day in a row, I'm back in County Durham, this time visiting a waterfall:

This is High Force, its name deriving not from its force, although it does power water down a 20 metre drop, so it probably isn't something you'd want to stand under, but from the Norse word 'foss' which means waterfall. It was a freezing day and I complained all the way to the waterfall but I must admit it was worth seeing.

and then exploring the village of Romaldkirk and walking from there to the town of Middleton-on-Tees.

The next few pictures are of the church in Romaldkirk, which I don't think is on any itinerary of the greatest churches in the British Isles but I am fond of churches and, being half-Australian, I cherish anything that is reasonably old in a possibly slightly indiscriminate way:

An annunciation - my favourite

With its three bands of horseshoe pattern the font could be Norman but is more likely a 13th century copy

What it says on the little plaque: "The tomb of Hugh Fitz Henry, Lord of Bedale, Ravensworth and Cotherstone. After a distinguished military career, he was wounded in Edward I's Scottish War. He was buried here on 22 March, 1395. The effigy is unusual in showing a straight legged attitude. The arms on the shield are of the Fitzhugh family"

I like the assumption in that little plaque of so much knowledge that I don't have - I had no idea that Edward I ever waged a Scottish war, for example. Sadly, when I was a teenager I studied history for the New South Wales school certificate and much of what I remember about the curriculum relates to the dates when sewage pipes were first connected to various suburbs of Sydney, which always seem to me the very essence of "boring but important". I'd far rather have learnt about 14th century Scottish wars.

War memorials in small places are particularly poignant

Right, time to get going to Middleton on Tees:

We've arrived!

The main reason we'd walked to Middleton was so that my husband - the news addict of news addicts - could buy the Sunday papers, but all that was left were the local papers, which are usually worth a look, but that day there was nothing but shock and we were not in the market for that:

We wandered about for a bit:

This reads "Erected by RW Bainbridge Esq of Middleton House. The commemoration of a testimonial presented to him and Mrs Bainbridge by the employees of the London Lead Company and other friends, September 28th, 1877", all of which evokes in my mind the sense of a calmer way of life - some might say boring, but I'd settle for that happily, I think, given current alternatives.  

I have to say, it wasn't a town that set my heart singing, but perhaps it was just the weather. We headed home, getting rained upon on the way. Never mind. It was beautiful country, huge skies, wonderful air - and I'd go back like a shot.

I do wish George Monbiot hadn't planted the idea in my mind of sheep as maggots on our countryside. It's a vivid image but I completely object to the idea behind it.

I liked this Romaldkirk dog's general attitude