Day 1: Wednesday 21st September
From Home to Allington, Lincolnshire, via Tesco's Daventry(?), Melton Mowbray, and a cellphone-stop outside Belvoir Castle
---
The first day of our epic Journey Without Motorways begins... on the Motorway. But only for a few miles. Then it's off onto A-roads through interesting towns and pretty countryside, discovering that - outside Wiltshire - there are some rather rewarding old-fashioned driving roads in Britain (as the Independent's motoring correspondent observed a week later - fifth paragraph, and note the first paragraph too, something I've mentioned myself before.) Incidentally I didn't have a camera with me, which is just as well or I would've returned with hundreds of mediocre pictures.
Leaving Market Harborough to drive 10-15 miles to Melton Mowbray, the road is suddenly Closed. For 12 weeks. With no diversion. And nothing to say how much of the road is closed. So we decide to take the nearest backroads, which became more and more minor, crossing through the middle of fields, across cattle-grids etc. Luckily we didn't see any other traffic, which did suggest that everyone else knew a better route... This was clearly Leicester commuter country, with some very impressive new houses mixed in with the countryside stuff. At length we joined the main road again, and stopped off in Melton, though not for pork pies. Passing near Leicester reminded me of Leicesterians (?) I'd known, and of how strange it would feel not to be returning to college in October.
At length, having seen a lot of pretty countryside and lovely sunshine, and been amazed at the speed of an apparently-standard Smart car, we reached our first night-stop, a pub in the village of Allington - this time in Nottingham commuter country. (I was already surprised by this point at how close together all the 'Northern' towns that I'd heard of were. Reference to a map also revealed the surprising knowledge that Watford Gap is in fact up near Birmingham, and nowhere near Watford. So whilst I'd previously thought it was some kind of joke to say that 'anything north of Watford Gap is north to me' it now seems rather trivial that that's true, or alternatively, might actually be a good way to judge northern-ness. I still stand by 'north of the M4' as a decent definition of 'north'...)
The pub was a pleasant one; our rooms were converted cow-byres, and there was a pretty courtyard with birds, butterflies, buddleia and bees, where I sat and read and wrote. These rooms were the best-appointed we stayed in; we even got bottled water, of which I drank one out of indulgence and left one out of gratitude. And it was the only place not to have Fairground Puzzle-Hangers, as Bill Bailey puts it.
Before dinner I went for a walk around the village. It's a tidy, pretty place made up of more-or-less beautiful old buildings, nondescript 60's bungalows, and imposing new commuter-castles. Ambling along one lane I quite innocently stumbled across a sign for West Meadows, and realised where I'd heard of Allington before - it's the flagship development by the much-publicised (by me) Gusto Homes - one still available at £695,000. This was the cause of some geekish excitement so I snooped around a bit. All the houses had solar water heating, one had a brand-new Prius (of course), and one had a couple of lines of roof tiles that were slightly shinier than the rest - photovoltaic cells, I believe. Every home should have them.
It struck me that the village would be very pleasant except for a pervading and slightly discomfiting air of affluence. For those who could afford to live there I'm sure this was no problem, but I, a random pauper wandering about, felt a bit suspicious, as I often do. I even began to suspect myself as being up to no good, particularly when I noticed that some of the road-signs had 'no scrap value' printed on the back. Even the primary school, I noticed, looked new and imposing.
Overall though, a quiet, genial, middle-aged, middle-class, slightly overweight, place, where the people walk slightly oddly, and with all you really need in a commuter village - pub, store, school, A-roads near but not too hear. Never really felt like somewhere the present me would fit in though. But that's OK.
Back in the pub for dinner; vegetarian options were slightly suspicious, as if someone had raided the supermarket for veggie curries in case any of those turnip-eaters came in. Didn't taste like a ready-meal though so taht was OK. The smoking and non-smoking areas were very well separated, once we'd rather pointedly closed the connecting door - and to their credit, every single person who passed through whilst we were there closed it behind them. It's that kind of place. The sort of middle-class, conforming, almost too well-kept place that a socialist student revolutionary - or indeed someone from the 'proper' countryside - would really hate. But I liked it for being safe and unchallenging.
Overhearings at dinner:
1) Some senior people talking about new-fangled DVD technology. "But what do you put in it?" "Well, you get them free with the papers"
2) The same, on a concert some younger relative had given...
"He played some Rachmaninov piece" / "Pavane?" / "No, a 'cello concerto" / "Pavane?" / "No, Rachmaninov" / "Did Rachmaninov write a piece called Pavane?" (I resisted the urge to disabuse her in no uncertain terms at this point)
3) The same, on someone who hopefully wasn't a close friend: "I didn't realise he had his leg shot off"
4) The same: "Well, I recognised the smell of my grandmother"
5) Some dude using the word 'cellphone'. Don't think he was American either. See, it's not just me. On this point I've noticed that Lexus and at least one other manufacturer have actually started using the term 'SUV' in their advertising.
Afterwards I went to my room and felt the autumn approaching. Too bad I couldn't make the heater work. I sat outside drinking tea and reading the Indie. I went for another walk, just because I'd never been alone in a village at night. It was rather dark and spooky so I didn't go far, but sat on an un-vandalised bench by an war memorial on a tidy green. Here was a place where the local youth club had made the benches, not destroyed them. Was this good, or was this too good?
Before bed, I had time to try out the Best. Shower. Ever. Which was one of those Edwardian-style things with a big shower-head right above you, dispensing hugely profligate amounts of water. I want one of these. Much better than the 'power showers' at home which made a huge racket without much discernible power. (Mum tells me she turns hers onto full power, which I've never dared with mine cos it sounds like it might explode. Must give it a go.)
And so to bed.
[Actually posted 21:44 on October 2, 2005]
---
The first day of our epic Journey Without Motorways begins... on the Motorway. But only for a few miles. Then it's off onto A-roads through interesting towns and pretty countryside, discovering that - outside Wiltshire - there are some rather rewarding old-fashioned driving roads in Britain (as the Independent's motoring correspondent observed a week later - fifth paragraph, and note the first paragraph too, something I've mentioned myself before.) Incidentally I didn't have a camera with me, which is just as well or I would've returned with hundreds of mediocre pictures.
Leaving Market Harborough to drive 10-15 miles to Melton Mowbray, the road is suddenly Closed. For 12 weeks. With no diversion. And nothing to say how much of the road is closed. So we decide to take the nearest backroads, which became more and more minor, crossing through the middle of fields, across cattle-grids etc. Luckily we didn't see any other traffic, which did suggest that everyone else knew a better route... This was clearly Leicester commuter country, with some very impressive new houses mixed in with the countryside stuff. At length we joined the main road again, and stopped off in Melton, though not for pork pies. Passing near Leicester reminded me of Leicesterians (?) I'd known, and of how strange it would feel not to be returning to college in October.
At length, having seen a lot of pretty countryside and lovely sunshine, and been amazed at the speed of an apparently-standard Smart car, we reached our first night-stop, a pub in the village of Allington - this time in Nottingham commuter country. (I was already surprised by this point at how close together all the 'Northern' towns that I'd heard of were. Reference to a map also revealed the surprising knowledge that Watford Gap is in fact up near Birmingham, and nowhere near Watford. So whilst I'd previously thought it was some kind of joke to say that 'anything north of Watford Gap is north to me' it now seems rather trivial that that's true, or alternatively, might actually be a good way to judge northern-ness. I still stand by 'north of the M4' as a decent definition of 'north'...)
The pub was a pleasant one; our rooms were converted cow-byres, and there was a pretty courtyard with birds, butterflies, buddleia and bees, where I sat and read and wrote. These rooms were the best-appointed we stayed in; we even got bottled water, of which I drank one out of indulgence and left one out of gratitude. And it was the only place not to have Fairground Puzzle-Hangers, as Bill Bailey puts it.
Before dinner I went for a walk around the village. It's a tidy, pretty place made up of more-or-less beautiful old buildings, nondescript 60's bungalows, and imposing new commuter-castles. Ambling along one lane I quite innocently stumbled across a sign for West Meadows, and realised where I'd heard of Allington before - it's the flagship development by the much-publicised (by me) Gusto Homes - one still available at £695,000. This was the cause of some geekish excitement so I snooped around a bit. All the houses had solar water heating, one had a brand-new Prius (of course), and one had a couple of lines of roof tiles that were slightly shinier than the rest - photovoltaic cells, I believe. Every home should have them.
It struck me that the village would be very pleasant except for a pervading and slightly discomfiting air of affluence. For those who could afford to live there I'm sure this was no problem, but I, a random pauper wandering about, felt a bit suspicious, as I often do. I even began to suspect myself as being up to no good, particularly when I noticed that some of the road-signs had 'no scrap value' printed on the back. Even the primary school, I noticed, looked new and imposing.
Overall though, a quiet, genial, middle-aged, middle-class, slightly overweight, place, where the people walk slightly oddly, and with all you really need in a commuter village - pub, store, school, A-roads near but not too hear. Never really felt like somewhere the present me would fit in though. But that's OK.
Back in the pub for dinner; vegetarian options were slightly suspicious, as if someone had raided the supermarket for veggie curries in case any of those turnip-eaters came in. Didn't taste like a ready-meal though so taht was OK. The smoking and non-smoking areas were very well separated, once we'd rather pointedly closed the connecting door - and to their credit, every single person who passed through whilst we were there closed it behind them. It's that kind of place. The sort of middle-class, conforming, almost too well-kept place that a socialist student revolutionary - or indeed someone from the 'proper' countryside - would really hate. But I liked it for being safe and unchallenging.
Overhearings at dinner:
1) Some senior people talking about new-fangled DVD technology. "But what do you put in it?" "Well, you get them free with the papers"
2) The same, on a concert some younger relative had given...
"He played some Rachmaninov piece" / "Pavane?" / "No, a 'cello concerto" / "Pavane?" / "No, Rachmaninov" / "Did Rachmaninov write a piece called Pavane?" (I resisted the urge to disabuse her in no uncertain terms at this point)
3) The same, on someone who hopefully wasn't a close friend: "I didn't realise he had his leg shot off"
4) The same: "Well, I recognised the smell of my grandmother"
5) Some dude using the word 'cellphone'. Don't think he was American either. See, it's not just me. On this point I've noticed that Lexus and at least one other manufacturer have actually started using the term 'SUV' in their advertising.
Afterwards I went to my room and felt the autumn approaching. Too bad I couldn't make the heater work. I sat outside drinking tea and reading the Indie. I went for another walk, just because I'd never been alone in a village at night. It was rather dark and spooky so I didn't go far, but sat on an un-vandalised bench by an war memorial on a tidy green. Here was a place where the local youth club had made the benches, not destroyed them. Was this good, or was this too good?
Before bed, I had time to try out the Best. Shower. Ever. Which was one of those Edwardian-style things with a big shower-head right above you, dispensing hugely profligate amounts of water. I want one of these. Much better than the 'power showers' at home which made a huge racket without much discernible power. (Mum tells me she turns hers onto full power, which I've never dared with mine cos it sounds like it might explode. Must give it a go.)
And so to bed.
[Actually posted 21:44 on October 2, 2005]
posted by Z31 at 12:00 am
4 Comments:
Luckily I noted this in its original place before it got squirreled away down here, so didn't miss it. And I'll know the trick for next time.
So you're saying this Rachmaninov dude wrote 'Pavane'?
TCH
:P
Well, he might have done. Rachmaninov's 'Pavane' Concerto for 'cello?
For your information, all the Blog-of-the-North posts will appear down here, as you probably realise. They should show up on RSS feeds, but you'll just have to look beyond the top entry!
Where the hell did this come from? I'm sure it wasn't here the last time I checked!
Well no, it wouldn't have been, I've obviously put it here since... Stay tuned for days 3-7!
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