*waves* Hello from the Peak District. I’m on a very wobbly wifi connection in the Youth Hostel in Hartington, which is a gorgeous little village about 12 miles from Buxton. The Hostel’s pretty swish, too, being the old manor house, where Bonnie Prince Charlie supposed stopped for a nap on his way south. Mind you, they put me in the coach house (I know my place, guv, honest). This is going to be a short post, because I’m constantly distracted by teenagers running riot up the corridor behind me. They’re clearly nice kids, but overexcited, and as far as I can tell, their teachers have pissed off down the pub. Now I know why people are always so complimentary when we take our lot out – they would not be allowed to behave like this. Gah.
I’ve come to the realization that I’m a country girl at heart. My spirits rose the further out of Manchester I got yesterday, and my muses perked up at the first hint of green, whereas I was stressed and on edge a lot of the time I was in Manchester. I had a lovely lazy day in Buxton, where I decided it was too hot and my bag too heavy to do much and so spent most of the day reading in the park. I did get to refill my water bottle from St Anne’s well, which flows right up from the actual Buxton spring (for non-British readers, Buxton Mineral Water is an ubiquitous brand of bottled water over here). Under the cut is a picture of the well and a few snaps from the long (and incredibly warm) country walk I did today.
St Anne’s Well. As a sat in the park above, I watched people queuing up to fill their water bottles. One older couple even turned up with a carload of empty three litre bottles. It did taste good.
Fields near Hartington.
The River Dove running through Wolfcote Dale.