Great Railway Journeys I have done .Have to say that the journey from Congleton in Cheshire to Seamer ( Scarborough) is a near perfect rail journey. I had listened to advice and made sure I was on the right hand side of the carriage so as to take in the recommended sights , which did not disappoint. My criteria for a Great Railway Journey were all fulfilled.
WHAT A GOOD IDEA!
I had of course brought one of my Arthur Upfields to read so was replete so to speak.
And so to scenery. No one prepares one for Cheshire to be so picturesque from the train. The Cloud first, and then streams ,and field systems, pales and lambs and water meadows all the way to Bramhall . Here the back gardens of the upwardly
mobile beckoned but I have seen it all before in Surrey so it held no thrall for me .
I mention here that the sides of the track between Congleton and Manchester were the cleanest and most rubbish free I have ever seen.
Now Stockport , theres a Business park of a place from the train. Not what I imagined , having only known about a past Bishop , Gordon Strutt from my Aunty Mary, so fondly thought it would be full of gleaming spires, instead - pyramidal multiplexes and ugly walls and chimneys. Made mental note to get off the train here another time and look at the Hat Museum, remembering that 'Aunt 'Ada Watson was a Court Milliner from Cheshire in the Edwardian era.
Levenshume was a ME sort of a place. I could just tell from the names of the businesses and the sort of washing on lines.
Manchester Piccadilly takes some working out. Now I am home I have worked it out. Trains that terminate and trains that go through determine , of course, the platform arrangements and so now I have it . I think. The loos are 30p and the change machine doesnt work . Thank God the Transpennine had clean ones and were easy to use.
The journey across or should I say under the Pennines was magic.
Canals and Mills along the Colne Valley would have looked so different a hundred years ago. I loved it now, without the smoke and the grime.
One businessman was overheard to recount to another a Question on some TV Quiz programme where the contestant did not know that Bread Sauce was an accompaniment to Turkey. 'Well ,I did not know that' said his travelmate, and I with him was silently amazed. I thought everyone knew that. Apparantly , I am naive.
So on past the familiar, Leeds, York, Malton , Seamer -I have travelled these rails a score of times since returning North from Surrey in 1992. The stretch from York to Malton along the Derwent Valley deserves a prize of its own . The best Field Systems I have ever seen are on the North side of the river, and then the glimpse of Kirkham Priory through the trees, as the river upstream to Malton tempts speculation always as to the height of the water. Here my journey took a new twist. Two young ladies from across the pond had discussed their complexions ,crowlines and wrinkles all the way from York. As they decanted to thrill a small agricultural town with their conversation , the carriage discussed the triviality of their very public musings.
On to the hedges and ditches of the Carrs, that great Lake Pickering emptying into the North Sea at Filey, its rich ,alluvial soil almost working before ones eyes to support rows of Potatoes , Wheat, Barley and oilseed Rape. No children clambering and scrambling, no runaway carts , just GLIMPSES GONE FOREVER.
- A seat alone
- Good conversation to overhear
- Clean lavatory
- An unknown crop to identify
- Clean window
- A Risk
- Wildlife to spot
- Baby lambs in field to spot
- At least one place of passing needing to be looked up in Pevsner
- A yearning to bring an OS map next time.
WHAT A GOOD IDEA!I had of course brought one of my Arthur Upfields to read so was replete so to speak.
And so to scenery. No one prepares one for Cheshire to be so picturesque from the train. The Cloud first, and then streams ,and field systems, pales and lambs and water meadows all the way to Bramhall . Here the back gardens of the upwardly
mobile beckoned but I have seen it all before in Surrey so it held no thrall for me .I mention here that the sides of the track between Congleton and Manchester were the cleanest and most rubbish free I have ever seen.
Now Stockport , theres a Business park of a place from the train. Not what I imagined , having only known about a past Bishop , Gordon Strutt from my Aunty Mary, so fondly thought it would be full of gleaming spires, instead - pyramidal multiplexes and ugly walls and chimneys. Made mental note to get off the train here another time and look at the Hat Museum, remembering that 'Aunt 'Ada Watson was a Court Milliner from Cheshire in the Edwardian era.
Levenshume was a ME sort of a place. I could just tell from the names of the businesses and the sort of washing on lines.
Manchester Piccadilly takes some working out. Now I am home I have worked it out. Trains that terminate and trains that go through determine , of course, the platform arrangements and so now I have it . I think. The loos are 30p and the change machine doesnt work . Thank God the Transpennine had clean ones and were easy to use.
The journey across or should I say under the Pennines was magic.
Canals and Mills along the Colne Valley would have looked so different a hundred years ago. I loved it now, without the smoke and the grime.
One businessman was overheard to recount to another a Question on some TV Quiz programme where the contestant did not know that Bread Sauce was an accompaniment to Turkey. 'Well ,I did not know that' said his travelmate, and I with him was silently amazed. I thought everyone knew that. Apparantly , I am naive.
So on past the familiar, Leeds, York, Malton , Seamer -I have travelled these rails a score of times since returning North from Surrey in 1992. The stretch from York to Malton along the Derwent Valley deserves a prize of its own . The best Field Systems I have ever seen are on the North side of the river, and then the glimpse of Kirkham Priory through the trees, as the river upstream to Malton tempts speculation always as to the height of the water. Here my journey took a new twist. Two young ladies from across the pond had discussed their complexions ,crowlines and wrinkles all the way from York. As they decanted to thrill a small agricultural town with their conversation , the carriage discussed the triviality of their very public musings.
On to the hedges and ditches of the Carrs, that great Lake Pickering emptying into the North Sea at Filey, its rich ,alluvial soil almost working before ones eyes to support rows of Potatoes , Wheat, Barley and oilseed Rape. No children clambering and scrambling, no runaway carts , just GLIMPSES GONE FOREVER.
What a beautiful post, Margaret. Thank you. I'm always slightly disappointed when train journeys come to an end; I love the thinking-about-nothing space they provide.
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