Lorton- A coup?

Peter called it a coup. I guess that residents of Istanbul and Ankara are allowed to use such delicate terms. We have pulled off another family holidays with 14 people fitting exactly into cars and bedrooms in a house in Lorton, north west Lake District.  It did seem to be designed to keep us at the right proximity for perfect peace.

Wordsworth's childhood home (both of them)

We were invited round for tea.

Our Lake District home- nasty tackle.

14 people- neatly fitting into 14 beds

Jonathan headed off up the waterfall, so we had to all follow him.

International pose number 367

Another, more quizzical, pose

Out on the lake

Learning from the Master

Descending through the clouds

Homeward bound

Visiting Muncaster

Basket full of Hobs

We returned via 'do the boys' school

Mum's Grandies

We began the holiday with fish and chips, and stage one of our homage to the Wordsworth family, starting at their childhood home in Cockermouth. Stage two moved to their early most productive years in poverty at Dove cottage in Grassmere. Then down the road, round the corner and up a hill to the beautifully situated family home, Rydal Mount. This was where William Wordsworth initially turned down his invitation to be poet Laureate, and later accepted the honour after agreeing that he would not be required to compose any poetry. We quite understood why with such a big garden to attend to.

One concern for Peter was how to ensure that the postcards home would be considered suitably exciting.  “Would anyone like to climb that vertical waterfall?” Yes, that’s Jonathan, followed by virtually the whole of the vertical climbers in the party. We seemed to have forgotten our previous failed attempts at scaling impassable hillside in the past.  The doubtful route rapidly becomes more dissenting as all became impenetrable bracken. led by the dauntless Jonathan in his crocs, all we needed was faith, and eventually we appeared at the top of the hill to gain a spectacular view over Buttermere and were relieved to spy a very safe paved path returning us to the valley floor.

Key features of our family get-togethers are culinary competition, sporting contest (this year- Pool) football on sloping lawns and car convoys to remote castles.  Our caster Castle was at Muncaster were meeting Lord Patrick as we entered gave the place an immediate homely feel.  Whilst it did feel that we were visiting a forgotten corner of England, we realised that this had led to a particular quirkiness that is very endearing.  Muncaster is near Ravensglass, with is Roman origins.

Our new friend Yigit will have the impression that every English motorway is a traffic jam.  Friday holiday changeover doubles the load on the motorway. We took a break on the way home at Tatton Park. Even then we only just made the last tour.

A King for Aachen

All great journeys start from London. (Well- the ones from London do.)

One day, a long time ago, I took found myself  in a train carriage traveling to Vienna with a certain Mrs Christie.  I recall being impressed by steep wooded gorges through the Ardennes, to Liege, and beyond to Aachen.  As we slowly circled the city I remember wondering what secrets where held in this, our closest German neighbour.  From Dad's papers, I also acquired a small booklet on the Cathedral.  The intrigue grew.

This summer, I picked up the book and put it in my back pocket and set off with my family.

At Bruxelles Midi, or was it Sud?

 This is the world of swirling languages.   Bruxelles Midi or Zuid?  do we get out here?  One false move and you've missed your connection. Then on across the invisible border into Wollonia, where announcements change irreconcilably into French; so now we are heading towards Aix la Chepelle.   Aachen has disappeared.  The train doesn't even go to Aachen, it heads for the diminutive Eupen.  So at a junction station, the passengers from 8 carriages step out onto a sleepy hot platform and run (we're late and we feel it) to one end when the 2 carriage banger waits to escort us across the border.  We are not hanging around in Belgium.  I think of the many people stuck at European borders at this time.  "Borders are the prison we choose to live behind" said Yehudi Menuhin,,, once.

We roll into Aachen.  Instantly we are in a bustling, multi-cultural metropolis, about the size of Leicester.  From the roof of our apartment we can see the Rathaus, and the Cathedral,   Our first trip is the Cathedral.  It is magnificent, a wonderful eclectic mix of ages.

Our view from 'Domapartment

The original church is based on Byzantine ideas.  Karlgross, or Charlemagne, saw himself as taking up the mantel of Constantine in being the Pope's ruler.  The main body of the church, though large, is a small copy of the Hagia Sophia.  In the 14th century a Gothic Chancel was added with windows to compete with the St Chapelle in Paris. Today it has very distinctive modern glass which I think are masterful.

The Cathedral also has a barque Chapel and the St Nicholas chapel where thousands of hands have worn a deep gouge into the holy water font on a pillar.  It reminded me that visiting Cathedrals is what it has been about for many centuries. On a special tour of the treasures, we were also able to go upstairs and see the throne of the kings of Germany.  The pillars we see have also traveled far.  The Porphyry columns in the arches were decorative.  Taken on 800 AD from roman sites, they were then removed my Napoleonic forces and sent to Paris, only to be restored by the Prussians, who went on the re-mosaic the whole Cathedral.  they did it very well (a very good fake.)

Karlgross by the Rathaus, once his palace.

Our roof top apartment

A beautiful reliquary- Lift the lid and you
can see Charlemagne's brain!

After a number of trips to the Bike hire place, one place in Aachen when I really needed some German.  "Would I like a Schloss?" Bit tricky to carry a castle on a bike.  Ah "a lock" (even here there was some English.)  "Yes please" but we still needed to return to our flat to pick up passports for ID. We forgot that ID is an important part of European identity.  We set off on our bikes for the Dutch border.  I noted that after 3 km of Aachen suburbs, we hit German Vaal, and then the old toll booths, and we were into Dutch Vaal.  Soon we were climbing the long windy road to the top of Holland.  'Drilandenpunt' where Belgium, The Netherlands and German meet, is a pleasant version of 'Lands End'.  A bit of Europe that was designed for Schengan and the Euro.  Without these it would be a nightmare.  It was good to meet a cheery Dutch waiter and waitress who told us about Limberg, the land, like Kurdistan, that exists despite national borders.  We climber the viewing platform and gazed down on Aachen, to the rooftop penthouse in the distance which provided us with the opposite view.

View from The Netherlands into Germany (Belgium's to the right.)  

The tower at the highest point in Holland

Our trip to Koln- Lunch overlooking the Rheine

This bridge needs to be strong

Aachen views

A good time