Monday at the breakfast table
Aug. 8th, 2011 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustWe had promised ourselves that since we had worked, more or less, through a wet weekend, we would take today off instead, and go out somewhere. But by the time we reached the breakfast table, we had heard yesterday's news (a woman had been killed by a fall from the cliffs at Seahouses, three walkers had been rescued from the Cheviot, believed to be suffering from hypothermia) and seen the local weather forecast (more rain): clearly today wasn't going to be a day for going out, either.
I consoled myself with the travel section of Saturday's Guardian, if consolation is the right word for the curious mixture of emotions it provokes in me. There's irritation: "It says here that 'The new Hepworth Wakefield gallery in West Yorkshire (hepworthwakefield.org) may be at the opposite end of the country to Turner Contemporary in Margate'. Or it may not - that'd be the Pier Art Gallery, wouldn't it?" There's sheer bafflement: does everyone but us regard a long weekend in a city as a holiday (I'm sure that can be a pleasant break, but an actual holiday?)? Is £125 a night for a double room (without breakfast) really a "mid-priced country hotel, the sort normal people can afford"? No wonder they can only manage to take short breaks...
And then there's "Oh, that looks good, I must make a note of that." This week it was the back page feature in which readers recommend urban walks in Britain: the water of Leith walkway in Edinburgh, a walk round maritime Deptford inspired by Charles Booth's study of poverty in Victorian London, a walk around Southampton's medieval city walls (I didn't know Southampton had medieval city walls)...
While I argue with the Travel supplement,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
durham_rambler works his way methodically through today's paper, reading me things that I really need to know, like today's birthdays: happy birthday to Jan Pienkowski, 75 today, to John Renbourn, 67 and to Esther Williams, 90 today, and still dangerous when wet -
- but that's where I came in.
I consoled myself with the travel section of Saturday's Guardian, if consolation is the right word for the curious mixture of emotions it provokes in me. There's irritation: "It says here that 'The new Hepworth Wakefield gallery in West Yorkshire (hepworthwakefield.org) may be at the opposite end of the country to Turner Contemporary in Margate'. Or it may not - that'd be the Pier Art Gallery, wouldn't it?" There's sheer bafflement: does everyone but us regard a long weekend in a city as a holiday (I'm sure that can be a pleasant break, but an actual holiday?)? Is £125 a night for a double room (without breakfast) really a "mid-priced country hotel, the sort normal people can afford"? No wonder they can only manage to take short breaks...
And then there's "Oh, that looks good, I must make a note of that." This week it was the back page feature in which readers recommend urban walks in Britain: the water of Leith walkway in Edinburgh, a walk round maritime Deptford inspired by Charles Booth's study of poverty in Victorian London, a walk around Southampton's medieval city walls (I didn't know Southampton had medieval city walls)...
While I argue with the Travel supplement,
durham_rambler works his way methodically through today's paper, reading me things that I really need to know, like today's birthdays: happy birthday to Jan Pienkowski, 75 today, to John Renbourn, 67 and to Esther Williams, 90 today, and still dangerous when wet -- but that's where I came in.
