It is April 2015, so pre-blog, I take a train to Berwick-on-Tweed to meet friends who have driven from East Anglia. So you are in the picture, as the army is fond of saying, we plan to walk down the coast to Alnwick.
I planned our route and accommodation. They had stopped for lunch in a pub near Alnwick – it was terrible and they hoped never to see it again. A tricky moment for me as we were booked in there for our last night. They were right; not only was it filthy, there was no hot water.
Northumberland is a sparsely populated county so I don’t have many friends there. The one couple I do know have a big house, acres and a title. I thought they might be pleased to have us to supper in the kitchen as one of our overnight stops was convenient. It’s a funny thing that people who say “Do drop in if you are passing” say “What a pity we are in London that week” when I’m passing.
Social distancing wasn’t a problem. It was a glorious walk and I hope to go back with Robert and Bertie for some leg-stretching on the sheep-free beaches and dunes of Northumbria. But all good things come to an end and my friends dropped me off at Alnwick to catch a train south. It was cancelled so when the next train from Edinburgh drew in, it was rather crowded. I secured a table seat after some passengers waddled out at Newcastle. They eat too much up north.
Now I must digress. Chillingham Castle in Northumberland is home to a breed of wild cattle that have pottered around there since the Middle Ages. When I settle into my table seat I notice a nice old chap sitting opposite – he shows all the signs of being an Uncle Theodore escaping to London for some fun. Of course we ignore each other. Two ladies at the table across the aisle are less restrained and tell Sir Humphry how thrilled they are to be sharing his carriage. They unpack a home-made Victoria Sponge and serve us both huge slices, pretty decent. However, I have a nagging doubt, proved correct, that they so revere Sir Humphry Wakefield (Keeper of the Cattle at Chillingham) they want him to have his cake and eat it. Fortunately I don’t scoff his second helping.
As I became aware of his identity, I introduced myself. As I had alcohol on offer – an improvement on Victoria Sponge he appreciated – he was quite chatty. I reminded him of his visit to Barmeath when he copied a few pieces of furniture to reproduce commercially. I speculated that one of them might be mine and he became suspiciously silent. All this comes to mind as Sir Humphry’s son-in-law is Dominic Cummings. So, you see, this website is sort of up to date.
You reminded me of our excellent, memorable walk, one of our most enjoyable in beautiful countryside and by the sea. I remember a most enjoyable lunch in the pub at Bamburgh with a view of the castle restored by the arms magnate, Lord Armstrong. I have entirely forgotten the pub near Alnwick without hot water, my memory is obviously carefully selective. Thank you for prodding it in the right direction.