Trespass

 You may remember I blogged before about Trespass, a outdoor clothing company I discovered in the Lake District when we went there back in 2010. The company itself is from Scotland. I only ever bought one thing from it, a jumper/fleece which is now all old and wornout. I bought it to keep me warm as I had onyl packed light clothes and temperatures had dropped dramatically and unexpectedly. I am wearing it as I am typing this.Every time I put it on, I think of the Lake District. Anyway, I recently discovered that there is a Trespass shop not too far from where we live. So I might get there one day to find a new item to wear out.

"The Vampire of Croglin Grange"

Sometimes I wish I could have seen something. A few days ago, a nearby associations of skeptics held a conference about the Vampire of Croglin Grange. An alleged real-life horror story that happened in Cumberland. I have heard of real life accounts of vampirism set in this country, so I may or may not have heard of that legend (can we say an urban legend?) before I have seen the announcement of the conference. I am gutted that I could not attend. I am of course skeptical of the whole story, but I love these bits of local legends about evil creatures, they make for great source material for scary stories. And if you cannot write one, you can imagine one reading the accounts and get a few pleasant chills. I hope to be able to blog about it in the next countdown to Halloween.

Trespass and a memory

 I like to keep old clothes and I rarely depart myself from them, even after years of wearing them. Even when they get wornout and utterly out of fashion, I keep them until they are unwearable and even a charity shop would not want them. So yesterday, it struck me that I was wearing a Trespass jumper/fleece thingie. The kind of inelegant but practical outdoorsy piece of clothes that is both comfy and sturdy. As any clothe should be. I bought the Trespass jumper in the Lake District, during the summer of 2010. It had been a hot summer and I had only packed light clothes. When temperatures dropped unexpectedly, I had to quickly buy a fleece in one of the many outdoor clothes shops that the Lake District has. I had plenty of choice. I learned preparing this post that Trespass is a Scottish company, not one from Cumbria. And I thought at the time I was buying a local product. Oh well. Be that as it may, it made me want to revisit the Lake District and revisit Scotland too.

The No Nonsense Coffee Guide

I found this picture at total random today on social media and I thought that even though I hate coffee, it was too good not to share it here. I have been once to the Lake District, but never to Silloth. Since my wife and I have been wanting to go back there, maybe we will go in this area next time. This is one of my new holiday objectives anyway: to visit Silloth and the Fairydust Emporium. I haven't checked the reviews anywhere online, but I love their attitude. Because what I dislike about coffee, apart from its colour, its taste and its smell, it is the snobbery and silly verbiage associated to it. For Pete's sake, you just want coffee, sometimes with something in it! This guide is straight to the point.

En train du sud au nord

J'ai pris cette photo au National Railway Museum de York et je la mets ici car elle sert mon propos. tout ça pour dire que mes parents sont partis hier avec mon frère PJ dans le Lake District. Je ne pouvais pas vraiment prendre congé. Ça m'attriste un peu, car j'adore ce coin de pays et j'adore les longs voyages en train, particulièrement du sud au nord de l'Angleterre. Plus on va vers le nord, plus les paysages que l'on voit à travers les fenêtres du train sont magnifiques. C'est immanquable. J'ai souvent blogué sur mon amour des voyages en train, je tenais à dire que ce sont ceux-là en particulier qui sont jusqu'ici mes préférés.

Holidays in the Lake District?

My mother recently heard about the Lake District from some friends and has decided that she wants to see it. So my parents are thinking about coming around September. And this is when my wife had a brilliant suggestion: we could rent a cottage big enough and all go as a family. This means little Wolfie would be able to spend precious times with grandparents he does not see in person very often and our little family here could have a true holiday, not merely a staycation, in a place we have not seen since 2010, when I really fell in love with it. And also, the cherry on the sundae: they would be autumnal holidays. Which is as you know my favourite season, and incidentally my mother's too. That she is planning for a visit at around this time is no incidental. The Lake District is beautiful at any time, but must be gorgeous in autumn. Of course nothing is set in stone, but I will have then been working on my new job for a while (if everything goes well) and Wolfie will be old enough to go on longer journeys. So I don't want to count my eggs before they hatch, but we still have a few years when we can take autumnal holidays, so it is a great project.

Jeux de mains (photo du mois)

J'ai une soudaine inspiration pour la photo du mois de septembre, dont le thème, "jeux de mains", était suffisamment vague pour porter à la créativité. Cette photo a été prise au Keswick Museum dans le Lake District. Il représente une sorte de xylophone de pierres, un lithophone, appelé le "Musical Stones of Skiddaw" comme ils l'appellent. Il est unique au monde, on ne peut donc entendre les sons qu'ils font qu'à Keswick (enfin, sur YouTube aussi). Les visiteurs peuvent y jouer. Et comme on joue d'un instrument de musique avec (notamment) ses mains...

Allez voir les jeux de mains des autres blogueurs ici:

100driiine, A&G, Agrippine, Akaieric, Alban, Alexanne, Alexinparis, Alice Wonderland, André(eric)Fernandes, Anita, Anne, Anne Laure T, Anne-Cécile, AnneSoPhotos, Annick, Arwen, Ava, Batilou, Berliniquais, Bestofava, Blogoth67, Café créole, Cara, Carnet d’une Réunionnaise, Carnets d'images, Caro, Carole In England, Cathy, Cekoline, Céliano, Céline in Paris, Cessna, oui !, Champagne, Cherrybee, Chris et Nanou, Cindy Chou, Clara, Coco, Cocosophie, Cricriyom from Paris, Cynthia, Dame Skarlette, Dan, David et Mélanie, DelphineF, Dorydee, Dr CaSo, Dreamteam, E, El Padawan, Elapstic, Emma, Escapade en Tunisie, Fanfan Raccoon, Filamots, François le Niçois, Frédéric, Galinette, Gilsoub, Gizeh, Guillaume, Hibiscus, J'adore j'adhère, Jean Wilmotte, jen et dam, Karrijini, Kob, Krn, Kyoko, La Fille de l'Air, La Flaneuse, La Messine, La Nantaise, La Papote, La Parigina, LaFamilleD , LaGodiche, Laure, Laurent Nicolas, Lauriane, Lavandine, Le Mag à lire, Les petits supplices !, Les voyages de Lucy, Les voyages de Seth et Lise, Les zinzins, Lesegarten, Leviacarmina, Lhise, Lisa adore, Lo, Lost in London, Louiki, Louisianne, Lucile et Rod, Lyonelk, M, M.C.O, magda627, Maïder, Mamysoren, Manola, Marianne, Marmotte, Melting Pot, Mgie les bons tuyaux, Mistinguett, Mon p'tit boudoir : Mot de passe : mon/ptitboudoir, N, Narayan, Nataru, Nathalie, Nicky, Olivier, Ori, Oryann, Où trouver à Montréal ?, Pat Québec, Pilisi, Renepaulhenry, Sébastien, Sephiraph, Sinuaisons, Skipi, Sophie Rififi, Stephane08, Stéphie&lesCacahuètes, Tambour Major, Testinaute, The Mouse, Titem, Tsuki, Un été Sans Fin , Un jour une rencontre, Une niçoise, Vanilla, Véro Beramelo, Vickie in the sky, Violette, Viviane, Xavier Mohr, Xoliv'.

Souvenirs de sécheresse

Bon, j'espère qu'on ne trouve que je ne répète pas trop dans mes billets. Cette photo prise au Lake District, à Keswick. Elle date de l'été 2010. Il avait fini par pleuvoir, et beaucoup, mais avant cela le pays avait souffert d'une certaine sécheresse, même au nord. C'est lorsqu'il faisait un temps très sec que j'ai pris cette photo. J'espère la pluie, en fait la tempête, depuis un certain temps. mais elle ne vient pas. Je crains qu'on ait de la sécheresse, phénomène rare dans ce pays.

Je viens d'un coin de pays qui la connaît assez peu: on est entouré d'eau et la pluie ne manque pas, j'ai même vécu une authentique inondation de mon vivant. Mais je crois que si j'ai à choisir, je préfère la pluie à la canicule. Durant les sécheresses que j'ai vécu, je me rappelle passer des journées au sous-sol pour éviter la chaleur. Ensuite quand mes parents revenaient dut ravail on se baignait dans la piscine, mais alors l'eau était trop chaude. Durant les vacances on dormait au sous-sol durant les journées de sécheresses. Ca c'était plaisant (le dire à la saguenéenne): on regardait la télévision tard le soir, je me rappelle surtout de documentaires sur la vie marine, un en particulier sur les baleines. Mais maintenant, je ne vis plus dans un sous-sol. Alors c'est plus difficile d'être à la fraîche. Par conséquent, j'espère l'orage...

No lamb this year

It is officially Easter since a few minutes ago. After my parents left for other parts of England, it means that we will have a quieter Easter. I have come to this conclusion, however it pains me: one of the Easter traditions of my adult life will not be practised this year. I will not eat lamb. For stupidly sentimental reasons, mainly: during our last trip in the Lake District, I thought they were too cute. See the picture on your left, where this little fella looks like he is praying. Now can I be that cruel? If only it was offered in a stew where you can separate the product from the animal, but no, if I really, seriously wanted lamb, I would need to go and buy some in the supermarket, knowing full well that it is the part of a baby animal just like this. Stupid, stupid, stupid sentimentality, especially since that creature was pretty much breeded to be meat.

Since I hate ham/gammon, lamb was my food of predilection for Easter. It had the right taste for the season too, not to mention the right association. This year, I will probably have an omelette or eggs, which is what I used to have as a child. Simple but appropriate.

Manger de l'agneau ou pas?

Pâques s'en vient et donc je commence déjà à penser au dîner de Pâques, qui sera je l'espère copieux et délicieux. Mais voilà, je fais face à une question éthique importante: est-ce que le repas pascal devrait avoir comme pièce principale de l'agneau? L'année dernière, j'avais évité ce problème parce que j'étais au Québec. Cette année je célèbre Pâques en Angleterre, donc je suis très tenté de renouer avec l'agneau accompagné de sauce à la menthe (et oui, c'est délicieux). Mais voilà, j'ai promis à ma femme de ne plus manger de l'agneau depuis notre voyage dans le Lake District, où la proximité avec les mignonnes petites bêtes m'a fait réfléchir sur ma nature de carnivore. À Keswick, on les voyait tout le temps, les moutons étaient timides et ne se laissaient pas toucher, mais on pouvait quand même les voir de près et marcher dans le même champ qu'eux. Difficile de désincarner la viande quand on la voit marcher.   

J'ai quand même déjà trahi ma promesse lors de ma dernière Saint-Patrick, mais je ne pouvais pas refuser un Irish stew offert et puis quand c'est en viande hachée on fait moins l'association. C'était quand même plus simple d'être végétarien à Pâques quand mes parents respectaient la tradition québécoise particulièrement dégueulasse de manger du jambon. Détestant le jambon, je me contentais de manger des oeufs cuits durs. C'était aussi pascal. Mais quand on a connu l'agneau, surtout avec du rouge, on ne veut rien manger d'autre à Pâques. D'où mon profond conflit moral. Je suis déchiré entre mon coeur et mon estomac.

Corvids and magpies

This picture was taken in the Lake District, in the Keswick Museum, every exsue is good to publish pictures from that time, even dead birds on display. It was a small museum but I was fascinated by what was in it.You can see here (I think but I am not sure) from left to right a raven, a crow and a magpie (or a hooded crow?).

Anyway, when I went out yesterday I saw lots and lots of crows. With the springtime colours, their black feathers make them difficult to miss. Oh and their distinctive caws! I am fascinated by these birds, which I used to dislike as a young child, especially when I was having breakfast, as I found their appearances and their cry utterly sinister. But then of course whatever is sinister also fascinates me, even at a young age, and I learned more and more about them and ended up loving them. I still find them sinister, but playfully so, knowing very weel that this is irrational superstition. Great working material for fiction or games.

Magpies are a different lot. I never even saw one until I campe in England. They have a very distinctive colour too, and I remember taking many pictures of them when I first came here. Before I associated them more with this Tintin album, maybe the best one ever. I never heard La Gazza Ladra, except its overture. Anyway, as this is the wildlife I see outside, I thought I would put some here on my blog.

An afternoon nowhere

This picture was taken in the Lake District last summer, in Keswick I think. I stupidly forgot to bring the camera when we went out today so could not take any pic. Anyway, as I have been wanting to do for ages, we went nowhere this afternoon. Well, it was not quite nowhere as it was a sizeable English village that was buzzing with people enjoying an April Sunday, but it was still nowhere enough: i.e. in village with plenty of countryside surrounding it, plenty of old pubs but virtually no other businesses open and no tourist around. It was warm but there was a bit of cool breeze. I enjoyed real ales in two crammed pubs, walked by the river, smelled the green pastures. England often smells of wet land, especially during spirngtime. It is not nearly enjoyable as a crisp cold autumn day, but it is still a very pleasant way to spend Sunday.

Spinning wheel

I was reading Gwen Buchanan's blog recently (which I found because she made a beautiful portrait of Anthony Burgess) and I noticed a pic of a spinning wheel that struck me. It reminded me of one I saw in the Keswick Museum, which you can see pictured on the left. I don't want to make her blush or anything, but I admire Gwen and consider her a true artist because she can take simple objects and show their aesthetic aspect, turn them into artistic creations: a stone wall, working tools, etc. Back in keswick, I took a picture of this spinning wheel because I thought it looked good, without understanding exactly why I thought so. It is a simple object, it was a long time ago a useful one, but it also has strong symbolic associations with the passage of time and death (I think among other things about the Norns in Viking mythology, even though they did not have a spinning wheel). But I just love it as an aesthetic object.

Ghosts from my past

This picture was taken in Grasmere in the Lake District and it is barely related to the topic of this post. But I thought that since the title was about ghosts, well tombstones would be the next best thing to put. And Halloween is coming after all, so it is sort of related to my general mood.

Today, my wife and I went to a nearby city, where we used to study and where me and her met. We went there to do some clothes shopping, something I hate to do, especially when it becomes a necessity. Surprisingly, we enjoyed ourselves quite a lot. Maybe it was partially because of the nostalgia we have towards the place. Anyway, we saw successively and at total random two people I knew from my early years at university in this country. Both are former housemates of mine, one from my first year in England, the other from my second, both are Greeks (and my wife and love Greeks for one particular reason). It was so strange to see them after all those years (more than ten). It was like seeing ghosts , I had lost touch with them before I even met my wife. We switched phone numbers and promised we will call and meet for a few drinks.

These two chance meetings made me realise a few things. First, that I literally cannot escape my past: I live near the same place I did ten years ago, I end up seeing the same people. The same thing often happens when I go back to Chicoutimi. That said, if my past haunts me through the faces of people I knew, I have moved on. And this is something else I discovered today: I might often think I am stuck at the same place, but I moved on, for better or for worse, in a number of ways. One of the persons I saw today was still studying at the same university. There is nothing wrong with this, but hearing her I discovered that I have had my share of studies and that it was now done for me. That is partially why I don't think I will teach anymore: because I do not want to go back in a classroom as a student. I had my dose of student time, even at university level. I was lucky enough to know academia from both sides, first as a student then as a teacher (which was by far my favourite job), but this is now a shadow that I can sometimes see, feel the presence but that I cannot touch anymore. At least those people are friendly ghosts and they will not bring bitterness.

Old bridge

This picture was taken in Grasmere, during our holiday in the Lake District. It never ceases to amaze me that such small places have such amazing views. There is nothing even average about the villages and towns there. Everything looks from another time,

I wanted to put this picture here, just because. Now is just as good excuse as any. I never thought it would be as good excuse as any. I have a thing for old things, and old bridges make no exception. They are like closed doors and old wells, they symbolise the passage to another world. In the Lake District, it was appropriate as we often felt in a different land.

Il me manque un manteau

Il m'est (re)venu une chose à l'esprit aujourd'hui, alors qu'une pluie fine mais constante finit par me tremper un peu trop pour que je sois confortable dans le manteau d'été que je porte: je n'ai plus ici de manteau fait pour les températures plus difficiles. J'ai un manteau d'été correct, mais j'ai deux manteaux d'automne/hiver qui ont tous deux connus des jours meilleurs. Un Timberland qui est en très mauvais état, qui ne me couvre pas assez l'hiver et qui est tellement épais qu'il donne l'impression que je porte un gilet pare-balles en dessous, un autre que j'ai acheté à Liverpool et qui est le journées d'automne... tant qu'il ne pleut pas à verse.

Parfois je me demande si je ne me considèrerai pas confortablement installé dans mon pays d'adoption qu'une fois j'aurai rapatrié (ou expatrié?) mon Kanuk. Cela dit, une fois il me faudrait encore un bon manteau d'automne. Reste à le trouver. Le pire, c'est que je crois que j'ai manqué ma chance: lors de notre voyage au Lauke District, il y avait treize magasins de plein air à la douzaine à Keswick où nous résidions, tous vendant des manteaux à prix réduits. . Et c'est l'endroit parfait pour trouver le bon manteau: la région a un climat particulièrement ingrat, rarement chaud même l'été et prompt aux caprices de la température.

Je n'ai jamais consacré le temps qu'il aurait fallu, un bon après-midi à me trouver un manteau chaud et qui tient au sec. En vacances, on pense assez peu à se préparer à ce qui nous attend dans quelques mois. C'était une erreur. La photo plus haut est celle de George Fisher, un magasin plein de charme avec une tea room au deuxième étage. Je n'ai vraiment aucune excuse pour ne rien avoir acheté. Si d'habitude le magasinage de linge m'ennuie au plus haut point, j'ai rarement eu l'occasion d'acheter des vêtements dans un environnement qui a autant de cachet.

A castle by the door

During our last trip in the Lake District, we barely saw the town of Penrith. We were practically passing by, waiting for the bus to Keswick and we did not see much of, but the little we saw was really worth it. Indeed, we saw its castle the moment we step out of the train station (which was partially constructed with stones from said castle). That was quite an impressive first contact with Cumbria and it made me regret a moment that we were just passing by. It changed when I saw the other towns and villages we visited and I quickly forgot about Penrith. However, since we had an hour or two to kill until we got the bus to Keswick, we decided to have a look at the castle. This is where I took those pictures.

I am a medievalist by education, so a medieval castle, wherever it is and in whichever state it is, always gets me excited like a child. And I am not specialised in medieval architecture, but nobody can stay indifferent towards these buildings. I used to see Windsor Castle from the outside every day, but that was different. There is something about old, ruined, uninhabited castles, those that have been hurt but have never moved with time like this one. They are deserted but for the odd tourist and local visitor, yet they are full of character and so atmospheric. From its history one can imagine all sorts of stories. It is a shame that ghosts most likely don't exist, because castles like this deserve to be haunted.

I envy the citizens of Penrith, especially the children who can grow up so close to such a place, and can go around and play. They literally have a castle by the door. I said that I love castles because I am a medievalist. It is not quite true. I was from an early age fascinated by medieval time and by ghost stories. One of my babysitters, a real Mary Poppins (I mentioned her before), used to sing me the this song about a haunted medieval castle, one of the many things she did that gave me an appetite for fairy tales and ghost stories, and of course medieval time. I can remember me asking her "Claire, what's a medieval castle?" and her showing me in a dictionary a picture. My brothers and I used to play a haunted castle game based on this song especially when summer was not quite warm or sunny enough to feel like summer, like it is these days here. Well, I have pictures of a medieval castle here now, they can tell me if it looks as good as they imagined it.

Taxidermie

Cette photo a été prise au Keswick Museum, un petit musée plein de vieilleries et de bizarreries intéressantes qui me faisait penser un peu aux musées régionaux qu'on nous faisait visiter durant notre enfance. Cela dit, ce musée battait la plupart d'entre eux. Mais c'est le cas de la plupart des lieux publics et touristiques du Lake District: ils exploitent à leur plus haut potentiel les attraits régionaux, plus que partout où j'ai été. Dans le Keswick Museum, il y avait notamment plusieurs animaux empaillés: un renard, un blaireau, des rapaces de toutes sortes, des canards, des hérissons, des furets et j'en passe. J'en ai donc photographié quelques uns, dont cet aigle (je crois que c'est un aigle, je me trompe peut-être), avec dans ses serres un lapin (ou un lièvre?). C'était de loin l'animal empaillé ayant l'apparence la plus dramatique, le prédateur avec sa proie, avec en arrière-plan un décor qui nous fait croire que l'on est en pleine nature.

J'éprouve une certaine fascination pour la taxidermie. J'ai grandi dans une maison où il y avait une peau d'ours noir et une tête de chevreuil empaillées, produits de la chasse de mon père. Ils étaient devenus nos compagnons de jeux (surtout la peau d'ours noir) et ils ont développé chez moi une certaine fascination pour la vie animale. J'étais aussi fasciné quand nous visitions chaque année à l'école primaire une exposition d'animaux empaillés exotiques (à Place du Royaume je crois). Ma femme trouve cela cruel, mais selon ce que j'ai lu du sujet au musée, d'habitude on n'empaille pas d'animaux morts de la chasse, surtout pas lorsqu'il s'agit d'espèces menacées, et la taxidermie telle qu'elle est pratiquée maintenant a aussi une dimension environnementale et éthique. Elle a également très souvent une valeur éducative, comme c'était le cas ici.

Afternoon (or morning) tea

I might be becoming a real Englishman, or maybe an old-fashioned Englishman, or maybe just an English cliché. In any case, when we went to the Lake District I became quite fond of afternoon teas, which were often reversed into morning teas, which themselves completed or replaced breakfasts. I think I tried more tea during those holidays than local beers, which is quite a dramatic change. The Lake District seems to have more tearooms than any other place I have seen in England. It is as if this piece of land barely saw the world changing outside, in that aspect at least.

Tea was perfect for the kind of coolish, windy and often wet weather we had there. The picture here was taken in Temporary Measure's tea room in Keswick, shortly after breakfast. I had black tea with mud cake, maybe the best mud cake I ever had. We went to other tea rooms and had more proper afternoon teas, with fruit cakes, scones with cream and jam, a slice of cake and so on (and we actually had them in the afternoon!), but I think this was was favourite tea room. They served tea in Chinese porcelaine, which was absolutely charming, with the cake it was even better. And I simply loved the philosophy of the place, which you can see on the bottom right picture.

Inland Odyssey

I might be milking the Odyssey's analogies a bit too often on this blog, but there you go. My recent trip felt like an odyssey, even though my wife and I travelled by train most of the time, with a few bus and boat trips here and there. It certainly felt like we were entering another world when we got into the Lake District.

The weather, for one, was radically different than what we have had so far here in the South. July in the Lake District often felt like a mild September day. Not that I complain about this: I was getting tired of the heat and was glad to be in cooler temperature. I am a Northerner everywhere I go: I feel comfortable in Northern weathers and felt that Cumbria was oddly familiar. The mountains, the large lakes, the forest, it is in a way quite similar to the Saguenay region in which I grew up. In another way, it is not so similar, as no town we visited was positively horrid. Civilisation espoused nature instead of spoiling it. Place for place, I would rather live up there than here, if my wife and I could both have similar jobs. It is not exactly my Ithaca, but it could be just as good.

My travel book was Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. I wish I had discovered this book earlier, when I was Jim Hawkins's age. Still, Stevenson is always enjoyable to read. I am still reading it, will probably finish it soon. People might think it was odd to read a sea adventure book for a journey that was done inland. Still, I thought it was appropriate for the trip, as it is the story of a sort of odyssey. Travelling novels (road novels?) are about the return as much as the journey, and the changes lived by the character through the process. I don't know if I changed much these last holidays, I still think I rediscovered things about myself.