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Ex Beamish semper aliquid novi
Jan. 30th, 2012 10:20 pmOur weekend excursion took us back to Beamish. The weather forecast was uncertain, and we are still easing ourselves gently back into a routine of weekly walks, and there was potential to extend the walk out of the museum grounds while remaining on easy, familiar tracks with plenty of scope for refreshment breaks. We didn't expect to see much at the museum that we hadn't seen before, but that wasn't the point.
Well, there's always something new. The fish and chip shop is one of the newest buildings, and on our previous visits this year, either it had been closed, or there had been a long queue snaking out of the door, past the board that says 'Waiting time from this point, one hour'. This time, neither of those applied, so even though we didn't want any fish and chips (too early for lunch and besides, we'd already split a bag of roast chestnuts by the skating rink), we went in.
They weren't frying yet, in any case, so the staff had plenty of time to chat. The man making chips in the first room demonstrated his skills with the chip-cutting machine, the young woman tearing up newspaper (specially, if inauthentically, printed with vegetable ink) to make cornets, told us about the book she had borrowed from the archives, and both of them told us about the tiles which decorated the entire establishment, which had been made by Duncan and Sons in Glasgow, exhibited at the International Fisheries exhibition, purchased by a Berwick fishmonger who had slapped them up on the walls without removing the metal frames on which they had been displayed, with the result that they had reached Beamish almost undamaged (and here's an account by the tilers who put them onto the walls of the new chippy).
From the pit village we walked past the mine and along the valley to Pockerley, where a medieval church is under construction. We climbed up the hill, but kept straight on, past the old farm and out of the museum, following the Beamish Burn through the fields (first walk of the in open fields). It was a beautiful day, chilly in the shadow with pockets of frost where shattered ice lay alongside the puddles, and the grass crunched underfoot, warm in the sunshine and just a bit muddy. Towards the Hall, there was a row of men with guns advancing towards the woods - if this had been France, they'd have been wearing high-visibility jackets.
When I first visited Beamish Hall it was the headquarters of the museum: but this was when the museum had barely opened. Now it is a hotel, and we lunched at the Stables pub and microbrewery - pleasant beer, good chips, wouldn't make the journey specially but it's good to know it's there when you need it. After which we had to negotiate a stretch of small but busy road to reach the path through the woods which eventually brought us across the golf course and back into the museum at the home farm.
We could have walked from here to the town, and still had time to walk back, but not much else, so we caught the bus instead, and spent our time in the town nosing around the motor garage and admiring the SHEW car (it stands for Seaham Harbour Engine Works - more information here). Then it was time for the last tram back to the entrance.
Well, there's always something new. The fish and chip shop is one of the newest buildings, and on our previous visits this year, either it had been closed, or there had been a long queue snaking out of the door, past the board that says 'Waiting time from this point, one hour'. This time, neither of those applied, so even though we didn't want any fish and chips (too early for lunch and besides, we'd already split a bag of roast chestnuts by the skating rink), we went in.They weren't frying yet, in any case, so the staff had plenty of time to chat. The man making chips in the first room demonstrated his skills with the chip-cutting machine, the young woman tearing up newspaper (specially, if inauthentically, printed with vegetable ink) to make cornets, told us about the book she had borrowed from the archives, and both of them told us about the tiles which decorated the entire establishment, which had been made by Duncan and Sons in Glasgow, exhibited at the International Fisheries exhibition, purchased by a Berwick fishmonger who had slapped them up on the walls without removing the metal frames on which they had been displayed, with the result that they had reached Beamish almost undamaged (and here's an account by the tilers who put them onto the walls of the new chippy).
From the pit village we walked past the mine and along the valley to Pockerley, where a medieval church is under construction. We climbed up the hill, but kept straight on, past the old farm and out of the museum, following the Beamish Burn through the fields (first walk of the in open fields). It was a beautiful day, chilly in the shadow with pockets of frost where shattered ice lay alongside the puddles, and the grass crunched underfoot, warm in the sunshine and just a bit muddy. Towards the Hall, there was a row of men with guns advancing towards the woods - if this had been France, they'd have been wearing high-visibility jackets.
When I first visited Beamish Hall it was the headquarters of the museum: but this was when the museum had barely opened. Now it is a hotel, and we lunched at the Stables pub and microbrewery - pleasant beer, good chips, wouldn't make the journey specially but it's good to know it's there when you need it. After which we had to negotiate a stretch of small but busy road to reach the path through the woods which eventually brought us across the golf course and back into the museum at the home farm.
We could have walked from here to the town, and still had time to walk back, but not much else, so we caught the bus instead, and spent our time in the town nosing around the motor garage and admiring the SHEW car (it stands for Seaham Harbour Engine Works - more information here). Then it was time for the last tram back to the entrance.
