The next day was rainy. Again.
It stopped briefly and then rained again.
Thanks to those lovely dog walking folk who were so helpful we had made a late lunch reservation at a highly recommended gastro pub literally over the hill, ten minute walk away from footbridge 20. The Crown at Hawk Green.
It rained steadily while we were in there and as the locals left, hardly anyone even put a rain coat on. So hardy.
Fabulous it was and afterwards we took the scenic walk back to the canal via a natural bluebell wood.
|Almost at canal level again, a wee stream. All quite romantic.|
The wonderful thing about this canal is that there are viewpoints all around. You don't have to walk up a mountain or get in a car. So hard to capture a view on film but here is my best efforts. Of course May is my favourite month of the entire year with the bright green leaves just shooting out.
|Let's just call it the Peak District, possibly towards Mellor again....?|
The attractive church yard has footpaths going in all directions. Another chappie who stopped on the towpath to chew the fat told us of this grave to the nurse of King Edward VII, now he was a boy, bit naughty, married to the beautiful Queen Alexandria, but had a long long affair with Mrs Kepple. Now we all know who Mrs Kepple is related to don't we....?
Answers on a postcard.
|"Annie" was reputed to be the only person who the king would listen to.|
I was given the choice of the holiday activities the next day. I chanced my luck a bit but David said yes.
We went to Manchester on the train. At Marple station, a station often used by a certain Mrs Agatha Christie to stay with her married sister who lived near-ish by. A family friend was called Jane and there is how the name, Miss Jane Marple came from although the character was based on her maternal grandmother I think that TV documentary told us.
There were hoardings on the platforms with photos and information all about Ms Christie. All very interesting.
I had to pace myself for the day ahead so we got a taxi straight to
The Whitworth Art Gallery. First stop coffee.
So below here we are, not in a park or gardens but in the cafe, almost entirely of glass. Signs on the tables saying no working between 11am and 1pm. If I was a student Id be in her every day.
We didn't spend too long here but walked back into town along Student Central that is Oxford Road. Two of our daughters came to Manchester to Uni, I used to come up for weekends too so it was a little like going back down memory lane.
Next stop the Manchester Gallery to see the now permanent collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings that have moved here since I was last in the gallery from the Whitworth. Enroute was a Lady. Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst. My feminist daughter has named her daughter after her. At every election I sigh when I hear that women don't bother to vote. Women died for us to have the vote and women still around the world would like it now.
|Some section of canal we passed over... Coming in by train suited me.|
Almost at the end of the visit and we spied the Lowry Room, just a handful of his works here, he has his own gallery at Salford Quays in Manchester. David's favourite and also my mothers.
After David's fill of all the art he could take we walked further into the centre of town. I deposited David at Sinclair's Oyster Bar for a well earned pint in the sun while I just nipped into Selfridges for ten minutes shopping....
Sinclair's was the exact spot that I watched the 2002 Commonwealth Games with my mum and my youngest as Jonathon Edwards won the gold medal at the triple jump on a big screen. We'd been to other sports too It had been hot that day and this day, despite my eldest girl who studied here saying memorably that it rained every day of her four years here.
A great day (for me anyway), a real treat. Somewhat sore feet got us back to Piccadilly and the next train in minutes back to Marple.
Supper was salmon and salad in the cratch looking at that view...
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