This blog post is dedicated to mine and Lydia's dear friend Robert Whittington, the Hammond organ player in the legendary band Jab Jab, brilliant hotel memoir writer and man of exquisite style and the owner of Lancrigg during our wonderful stays there between 2010-2016. Without his generosity of spirit, many of the dreams written about here would have remained unfulfilled.
"How beautiful do the words have to be,
Before they conquer every heart?"
- Prince, 'Dolphin'
"Arise, and drink your bliss,
For every thing that lives is holy."
- William Blake
"the greatest poverty is not to live
In a physical world...
And out of what one sees and hears and out
Of what one feels, who could have thought to make
So many selves, so many sensuous worlds,
As if the air, the mid-day air, was swarming
With the metaphysical changes that occur,
Merely in living and where we are."
- Wallace Stevens
Introduction: First Contact
I can't remember the date exactly, but I think it must have been around late summer in 2010, when I suddenly realised that amongst the madness of our moving into a new flat, Lydia's insanely busy schedule of working, studying and being my partner & carer, that she/we hadn't had a break or holiday for about three years. This, I felt, had to be rectified. And not only that, but from a personal point of view, I wanted desperately for us to have some quality time together, as we had not been able to do as much of that during those past couple of years or so. Certainly not as much as we used to do in any case. So, out of hope rather than expectation, I google searched "vegetarian/vegan hotels UK" just to see if anything came up. And there, immediately grabbing my attention, appeared a link to a place called Lancrigg Vegetarian Hotel & Restaurant in Grasmere in the Lake District. "Hmm, that's encouraging... and that's only a couple of hours' drive from us (at the time). I wonder what it's like?..." will no doubt have been the thought process as I clicked on the link...
And so was to begin our relationship with the Lake District, Robert, his wife Janet, and the brilliant staff at the hotel that was rapidly to become one of our favourite places in the world. I have a few vague memories of that initial call to make the booking: asking if they had a lift (not required as the room we would be in was on the ground floor & next door to the restaurant), whether they had car parking spaces available, etc, and within five minutes, our break in the Lakes was all arranged & booked. Lydia knew I was whisking her away for a couple of days away, but I was so excited by the look of Lancrigg's website and the fact that it was all completely vegetarian that I wanted our destination to be a secret. The whole situation turned out to be one of the best decisions I've made in my entire life.
The Four Seasons
Chapter 1: Autumn Leaves
Chapter 1: Autumn Leaves
The journey up to the Lake District for our first visit to Lancrigg was incredible for me, as not only was I looking forward immensely to our holiday, but I was also tingling with excitement at the thought of seeing Lydia's face as we arrived at Lancrigg. But I have to admit that at this point it was also tinged with a small amount of fear and trepidation in case it wasn't as splendid as it looked on their web-page. I'd made a James/Tim Booth compilation for the car journey, and although it was still light when we left home, by the time we had arrived at the Keswick exit on the M62 just past Lancaster, dusk was already falling (how beautiful everything looked!) ...
and by the time we had arrived at Grasmere it was completely dark. The approach to Lancrigg itself was about a mile down a narrow lane and the sign for Lancrigg was hard to see in the blackness and we almost drove past it that very first time. But we found it okay and I will never forget Lydia's face light up as she read the sign: "Welcome to Lancrigg Vegetarian Hotel & Restaurant." The driveway itself ran through some glorious woodland & then we arrived at the car park and Lancrigg was there for us to set eyes on for the first time. And what a sight met our eager eyes! A wonderful, old style hotel with so much character and which immediately made us feel like we were in a different kind of place, where the hustle and bustle of everyday life could be emphatically left behind. It was actually a kind of dream world, with a fairy tale atmosphere, and as we stepped out of the car we were struck by the complete stillness and total silence of the environment, which was truly spellbinding. We went in and were met by the first member of staff we made friends with - and each person we met at Lancrigg had a wonderful aura of individuality - and were shown to what would become, for us, for all eternity, "our room", or as it was officially known at Lancrigg, the John Richardson Room. It's hard to put into words the feelings I got as I first glanced around the room. The four poster bed was so lush and romantic that it took my breath away, the wonderful alcove with its round table where we would eat so many wonderful breakfasts whilst gazing out at the extraordinary Lake District scenery outside, the huge luxurious bath, and all this beauty & mood enhanced greatly by the lovely, lush scents from the soaps, shampoos and bath soaps that were complementary and which increased the exquisite atmosphere of pure relaxation and sensual bliss that Lancrigg exhaled in such abundance.
And so, after a rest and then a quick freshen up, it was time to dress for dinner & head next door for the first time to the restaurant. Again, it was hard not to be bowled over by the lovely ambience of the room. I find it hard to believe now but there were actually some snooty remarks on Trip Advisor from people who obviously prefer their restaurants to be full of all mod cons and the like, but for a feeling of 1930s/40s glamour, the Art Deco restaurant at Lancrigg had it all. Beautiful, vanilla lighting, mirrors & candelabra, it all went so perfectly with the atmosphere of stepping out of time from our insane, rush around, chasing our tails, "busy busy busy! time is money!" society that we've so regrettably created. With so many people now having such little time or inclination for Romance, beauty, art, contemplation or meditation in their lives, Lancrigg offered all of this and much more in abundance. And the food...? Oh my goodness. It was gorgeousness and gorgeosity defined. But I will talk more of that later.
We were pretty tired after travelling, so as soon as we had dined we headed back to our room to do all my medical treatments and get as early a night as possible. But it was during this first night that we also experienced another side of Lancrigg's wonderful charm. To set the scene somewhat, I had been telling Lydia over dinner that evening about how the poet William Wordsworth - who had apparently been a regular visitor to Lancrigg and had even helped with renovation work on the house back in the 1800s, - had begun his career as a wonderful, revolutionary poet, only to become the ultimate sell out and become that most horrifying of spectres: a Tory poet laureate. He had also betrayed his best friend - one of my favourite poets and life guides, Samuel Taylor Coleridge - who apparently also visited Lancrigg many times and who lived for a time in the Lake District, in an extremely cruel and callous way, and basically Wordsworth, in his older years, had become not only a selfish, paranoid snide, but had also become jealous of Coleridge, his so-called friend's, greatest works. However, I should have known better than to speak those words out loud in the very vicinity of where Wordsworth had spent so much of his life as there are far more things in this world than we can make sense of. And lo and behold, during that first night, Lancrigg felt incredibly otherworldly and remarkably 'Twin Peaks'-esque. And if there is a place that is closer to different realms than the one we usually inhabit, then Lancrigg at night would be a perfect place to explore it. For at about 1am that morning, I was abruptly awoken & had one of the most eerie and strangest feelings I've ever had in my life (and goodness knows there's been plenty of them!) I awoke very suddenly and my skin felt cold and there was an unmistakable sensation of electricity pulsing in the in the air. My hair felt as if it was reaching for the stars and even I, who thinks that the existence of ghosts is extremely unlikely, felt a very strange presence indeed. There were unusual noises and I can honestly say that it felt as though Lydia and me were not the only ones in the room. We were so unnerved that we had to get up, put the lights on and make a cup of tea, amd even after that, it took us a long time to be able to get to sleep again. It was our first experience of the other, eerie, perhaps sublime side of Lancrigg. For as beautiful as it was in the day, at night, the pitch darkness, the wildness of the surrounding crags, mountains, rivers, large lakes and woodland, made it very strange indeed. The silence was of a type that is also rare to find nowadays, but when that complete stillness was then abruptly broken by the shrill hooting of an owl or the barking of a fox, I would defy anyone not to feel a shiver down their spine at such moments. For the night has many secrets, and who knows just what wanders out there where the human eye can't see. Whether it be the nocturnal creatures living out their challenges of life and death through being predator or predated, or seeking out a mate in the endless quest to reproduce, or some unseen spirits that walk far away from the suburban lights of human towns and cities, one thing was for certain: there was much more to Lancrigg than just peace and relaxation, & I would think that even the city boy Lord Byron, and Percy and Mary Shelley, not to mention Coleridge himself with his supernatural poems, would have found the sublimity of Lancrigg and its surrounding environs, particularly at night, a wonderfully spooky and influential place to be. As Lydia and myself are two individuals who love the Gothic night side of life as well as the glamorous colours of the day, we were enchanted, fascinated and also a little spooked. That particularly haunted first night wasn't repeated the following night, however, and Lydia and me have actually come up with a Sherlock Holmes-like explanation for the otherworldly unrest that kept us awake for a couple of hours. For it is now plainly obvious to us that the ghostly spirit of my hero - Coleridge - was trying to keep the ghostly spirit of the one who I had bad mouthed - Wordsworth - away from me during the night after what I had said about him earlier that evening. I have since come to a certain acceptance with Wordsworth and can enjoy reading his earlier poems by not thinking too much about some of his less finer moments as a person, especially his terrible betrayal of Coleridge, who was so distressed by what had happened that he never set foot in his beloved Lake District ever again after their quarrel. You may have your take on what may have occurred that evening, dear reader, and it may seem unlikely, but Lydia and I can find no more accurate reason for the strange events that took place on our first night at Lancrigg. And so, surrounded by such devastating natural beauty and otherworldly supernatural strangeness, did we begin our intense love affair with Lancrigg and its extraordinary atmospheres.
The next morning we were woken up by a friendly knocking on the door and when breakfast was brought in to our room by the waitress who had greeted us on our arrival, she bounded into the room shouting, "It's a beautiful morning, sleepy heads, up, up, up with the pair of you!" and then proceeded to open the curtains in the alcove before bringing in our breakfasts. Still rubbing the sleep out of our eyes, we went over to the alcove and for the first time in the daylight, saw the truly stunning beauty of the surrounding landscape outside our window...
After a wonderful breakfast, and knowing that everything from the kitchen was either vegetarian or vegan made this aspect of Lancrigg an uncomplicated dream, we did all my treatments and then began to make the most of our time for the remainder of that morning by simply relaxing, recharging our batteries and simply enjoying being in each other's company, drinking lots of wonderful tea and reading. I still don't think I've discovered a place quite like that alcove in the John Richardson room that was as perfect as it was for those kind of heaven blessed times...
We drove around some more until dusk had fallen before deciding to make our way back to Lancrigg for some more wonderful food. It's hard to put into words just how magnificent the landscape was in that first autumn that we visited. The colours & scents and general atmosphere were so inspiring & the ambience was truly something to behold. It was as if you could feel in your very bones that all of the birds and the animals and nature itself were beginning to slow down and were preparing to either bed down and hibernate, or begin the extra struggle to find food and shelter for the winter, which you could actually feel in the air and on your skin, which was of course coming swiftly along, just over the horizon of time.
And then, on the last morning of our first visit, just before we sat down to breakfast and when we first opened the curtains, this extraordinary visitor blessed us with her presence...
Talk about something to take your breath away. And in that instant I knew that this was a genuine sign, and I already felt in the deepest part of myself that we would no doubt be returning to Lancrigg many more times, and that it was already a place destined to have a very, very special place in our life and in our hearts.
Chapter 2: A Winter's Tale
Our first winter stay at Lancrigg came after we had already been there a few times, but it was one of the most memorable in quite a few different ways, not least for that sense of utter sublimity that it can often inspire. Firstly, during this particular visit, we were able to pay homage to the poet who holds such an important place in my psyche & who, when I read his biography and journals, makes me feel that we are inextricably linked across an ocean of time due to so many similarities in the way we both respond to the world around us: Samuel Taylor Coleridge. It all began with a trip to Dove Cottage, the former home of William Wordsworth, which is now a museum and is a place where Coleridge spent many, many happy months and hours and where he wrote some of his finest poetry. There was already a haunting mist in the air, and my keen senses, as ever, were on high alert. Dove Cottage was pretty much deserted when we arrived and the guide was more than happy to let us wander to our heart's content whilst he tried to answer the myriad questions that I bombarded him with. I'd already swooned before we entered the cottage itself as there had been letters of Coleridge's and also Lord Byron's in the museum which adjoins the cottage. I'm always slightly floored when I actually come across these very human examples of individuals who lived, in this case, around 200 years ago. The sense of time seems to invade me at moments such as these and the lives of those whose passions and dreams are recorded in their poems, letters, etc, feel so close and tangible when their very own hand written words are there directly before you. These occasions can all get a bit much for a soul as sensitive as mine and hence the swooning! There were also some majestic portraits of Coleridge at different times of his life which Lydia captured me posing in front of...
(and, of course, not forgetting the devilishly dashing Lord Byron, who was also present!)...
And then, when we had finished at the museum we headed over to the cottage itself, where the guide showed us in and said that if we didn't mind he needed to do something and said he would be back in a few moments. As if we'd have minded! Sitting in that ancient place all by ourselves, in that kitchen which would have been alive with the hustle and bustle of the Wordsworths, Coleridge, Asra and their many friends, with water being boiled on the stove for tea, a roaring fire and the conversation alive with electricity about subjects as diverse and interesting as human freedom, the French Revolution, the purpose of poetry; love, desire and romance and the majesty of the natural world; the mysteries of the supernatural world; it was as if I could hear all of those conversations and even the heated exchanges and arguments that would also have occurred. And so, sitting there quietly, I let the mood of the moment sink in and gave my imagination free reign.
Our guide then returned from his other duties and told us lots of little anecdotes about the place and its illustrious former inhabitants. And then came the real thrill for me and this bit of the day made me feel a bit giddy. For we were shown into the room that Coleridge actually used to stay in whilst he was at Dove Cottage as a guest, which would have often been for many weeks at a time. And there, in front of my eyes, was the very bench that he apparently used to love sitting at, contemplating the world outside and inside (or within and without), and no doubt creating and going over in his head so many of his wondrous poetic ideas. "It's fine if you'd like to sit there for a while," said the guide, obviously picking up on my astonishment. And so, before I could take it all in really, there I was too, sitting on the very same, practically unchanged spot that the man whose poems and writings have enthralled, enchanted and comforted me for so many hours of my life used to sit at himself during an eighteen month period over two hundred years ago between 1799-1801.
I have no idea whether people will get why this kind of thing means so much to me, but for me it is a kind of spiritual experience. The concept of time I already find very hard to fathom and when, on an occasion such as this, and 200 plus years of vanished time are factored in as well, plus a building is preserved where you can as close as hear the voices of the people who lived there all that time ago in your head and thoughts through their writing, it is a very strange, uncanny experience. And that was not all...
The next day we drove west to Keswick so we could try and find the house that Coleridge actually moved into and lived at from 1800-1803. It took a bit of finding (this was before we got ourselves a Sat Nav), & most of the locals we asked looked at us incredulously when we enquired if they could direct us to where the poet Coleridge used to live. But tucked away off the main street, and with a name all to itself, there it was...
Again, it is nigh on impossible to give an accurate description of how eerie and powerful the night felt. The clouds were racing across the sky, the moon was so bright that it didn't feel like it was even close to midnight, and the howling wind seemed to be not whispering but hailing prophecies and warnings. And if the dead do sometimes rise and wander the earth on occasions, then this is the time when I reckon they would do it. There is something unmistakably otherworldly about situations such as this, and I have to be honest, I was in my element. After going back into our room before we got too cold and after warming up, Lydia suddenly asked me if we should get in the car and drive around to sample this extraordinary happening around the peaks and crags as well. My heart screamed yes whilst my head said, "uh...hang on a minute...are you sure that's such a good idea in this weather?" But on this occasion, our hearts just had to win out. For how often do things like this come together at a perfect time? We looked at each other and just knew we had to experience this event in all its sublimity, it was simply too rare an opportunity to miss. "Come on, let's go!" said Lydia, swiftly grabbing the car keys. We didn't want to drive too far from Lancrigg itself - and, as it turned out, there was absolutely no need for us to do so - so we headed west again towards Keswick and soon arrived at Thirlmere Reservoir, a huge lake that even has old an castle type building built into one of its banks. The wind was still howling and there were leaves, twigs and branches scattered all over the roads. We then came to a bridge which crosses the dam and as there was nobody else around we decided to stop the car and get out. It was truly an unforgettable few minutes. The moon was still full and incredibly bright when it beamed down on everything between the clouds that raced by. The wind gushed as if trying to tear every tree from the ground and once again, the feeling of electricity in the air was unmistakable. We then looked out and lent over the dam, and although you can't really tell completely from the photos, it actually looked and sounded more like a raging sea than a reservoir...
Crashing against the dam below us, the water looked pitch black and was in complete contrast to the calm ripples that we had seen on our first visit there in the autumn. The whole place was so wild, desolate and eerie, and more than once I had to do a double take as I thought I'd seen a ghost out of the corner of my eye. But let me also say that if I had seen a ghost at that moment it would have felt like the most natural thing in the world, such was the atmosphere. With the wild winds, the noise of the water crashing against the dam & with the clouds swirling manically above us, and despite our mountains of layers to try and keep warm, the cold still soon began to get under our skin so we decided to get back in the car and head back. As we drove up the main road towards Grasmere, however, a piece of stone wall had collapsed and water was streaming onto one side of the road, making it impossible to pass. It transpired that the only way we could get back was to reverse up to a lay-by where we could turn around and take the other route. A driver heading towards Carlisle stopped and asked us if we knew if any of the roads were blocked and at that point we knew it was definitely time for us to get back to Lancrigg. After some skilled driving from Lydia avoiding branches that had been torn off the trees by the wind and increasingly flooded bits of road, we made it back to Lancrigg and we simply couldn't believe how fortunate we'd been to have witnessed the Lake District during such extreme weather conditions. It was scary and unnerving, but it was also absolutely sublime. It truly brought home the sheer elemental power of nature - so often made saccharine and sweet in this day and age as if it's something that's only nice and sweet and full of healing - and it reminded us of its (her?) monumental force. Before we settled down to try and get some sleep - which wasn't easy due to the noise of the storm - I attempted to get a picture of the force of the wind outside which was blowing our curtain about five feet in the air despite the window only being marginally open...
When I look back on it all now, I am reminded of some lines in Goethe's Faust, which are spoken by the character Mephistopheles, and which sums up pretty accurately the strange, eerie, otherworldly feeling that the storm created around Lancrigg and the Lakes on that wild, winter night:
"Can you hear the the voices everywhere,
far and near, high in the air?
Yes, the whole mountainside is ringing
With the witches' furious singing."
- Mephistopheles, Goethe's Faust.
After such an intense night, the next day was principally spent relaxing, reading and recharging our batteries. And then, on the last day of that particular trip, we had another one of those lovely little signs that suggest so much more than the simple act or occurrence that happens. Lydia and I had already fallen so in love with Lancrigg by this point that we had decided that we would love to have our marriage celebration there. It seemed such a long shot at that point, though, and before we left we decided we would first broach the subject with the owner, Robert, who chatted with us about what we would like to do and said he would get back to us with availability, etc. After our chat, we had really high hopes and as it was a lovely winter's afternoon, decided to have a drink and some lunch before we headed back home. And whilst we were eating, we were visited by a rather handsome cheeky chap who made us, yet again, feel very welcome. Completely fearless, obviously a bit hungry, but telling us through tweets and little inclinations of his head that he hoped we would be back soon, this very confident little chap was obviously determined to find out as much about us as he possibly could!...
We had a bit of a chat and then he checked out some of my meds!...
He then tweeted and chirped with us for a while longer, ate some crumbs off the table, chirped around us a bit more...
And then, obviously contented with what he'd found, flew back to wherever he had come from, leaving us feeling enchanted and blessed, and in absolutely no doubt that this had been a wonderful sign. As we watched him flying around the garden of Lancrigg with such beautiful abandon, I couldn't help but recall William Blake's lines in Auguries Of Heaven:
"A Robin RedBreast in a Cage,
Puts all Heaven in a Rage."
and thinking how immensely true that sentiment is. And of course, for the people of Lancrigg, the idea of caging and killing birds, (or rather, paying other people to do the dirty work of killing for you) & eating their flesh is truly woeful, and being in such a beautiful place around such like-minded people only strengthens the experiences such as the one we'd just had. The bond between Lydia, me and the wonderful people and creatures at Lancrigg was becoming as strong as anything we could have wished for.
Chapter III: Summer Wind
"I think I could turn and live for a while with the animals...they are so placid and self-contained,
I stand & look at them sometimes the whole day long.
They do not stress and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep over their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God.
Not one of them is dissatisfied... not one of them is demented with the mania for owning things,
Not one of them cares about being seen as respectable or to be industrious over the whole earth.
But they show their relations to me and I accept them;
They bring me tokens of myself... they show them plainly to me in their own possession."
- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
"Sleep, baby, sleep, until the night is over...
And the sun comes, like a God, into our room....
All perfect light and promises..."
- Inxs, 'New Sensation'
The day times were mainly spent reading and studying, and simply spending some precious time together and drowning in the gorgeous colours of the garden, the humming of the bees, the glorious scents of the flowers and basking under the wonderful blue dome that was the sky...
It was an Oscar deserving performance, I kid you not! If only the Royal Shakespeare Company's casting director had been around he may have asked me to recreate it for a spellbound audience at Stratford-Upon-Avon!
There was also so much more that we had to learn and experience about Lancrigg during the summer season and that in itself was a wondrous journey.
For example, it was the perfect place for contemplating the wonder, majesty and strangeness of life...
...for drinking wonderful scented Chinese green tea whilst taking a break from study...
...and for reading gloriously decadent European literature!!...
We also had some beautiful strolls around the garden and woodland areas, which were alive and radiant with the scents from the flowers, the buzzing of the honey bees and the songs of the birds, and at one point I even tried my hand at a bit of grass flattening, but as can be seen from the picture below it was all a bit too difficult for me so I soon had to pause for a rest and wipe the sweat from my weary brow!...
Considered all together, those few summer afternoons that Lydia and me spent together in the garden at Lancrigg, especially as we had just spent the best part of the two weeks beforehand apart, were nothing short of being a paradise on earth, or as Mark Hollis of Talk Talk would perhaps have described it, a Spirit of Eden. As I have already mentioned, Robert, Janet and the staff had by this time made us feel like part of the Lancrigg family and to be away from where we actually lived yet feel infinitely more at home with them was the astounding miracle that they had somehow managed to weave for us. And as if that wasn't enough, whilst Lydia was sleeping during one of those wonderful, blue sky kissed, hazy dreams in the afternoon sun, once again we received a visit from that ultimately unknown world of glorious red feathers, and as Lydia slept, this charming visitor reminded us that it wasn't only the human inhabitants of Lancrigg who appeared to be delighted to have us around their home during our stay...
As I have maintained many times, there are far strangers things going on in life than we are aware of, and, yet again, this little visitor with the glorious red feathers, who hopped around and spent a good five minutes checking us both out and doing his very best to make us feel like we were welcome in HIS garden and was, in effect, trying to communicate something with us, made me feel like I was in another world. I've often been informed by some of the hippies and western bourgeois Buddhists that we know that I should meditate and practice mindfulness, but for me, if a person's heart is open to the beauty, magic and strangeness of all things - and I sincerely hope and believe that mine is - then those things are surely something you would be doing intuitively at any suitable moment, and not merely because of some mantra, reminder or instruction. In that particular instant, whilst I was basking in the quiet of an enchanted Lancrigg, under a warm summer sun, with the Love of my Life sleeping and dreaming blissfully on the rich, lush grass beside me, and then to have been approached by such a beautiful and inquisitive little bird, completely took my breath away. Of course the biologists would say that he or she was just looking for food, was only tame around people because of the hotel, etc, but for me that is much too simple an explanation. For it is really about the mystery that is life. Only a fraction of our communication is actually through language (something like 7% I'm led to believe), and, if that is the case, then who's to say whether this little robin, who was quite clearly fascinated by Lydia and me, wasn't trying to communicate with us, just because we couldn't achieve it through the use of words? He was certainly very comfortable around us. Maybe he adored Lydia's red hair and thought that she was a great mermaid goddess, who just like David Bowie, had fallen to earth? Maybe the robins of Lancrigg now have a wonderful myth about a beautiful red haired mermaid that lives far far away, down by the sea? And perhaps, because only this one robin saw her, all the other robins are unsure about the credibility of that robin's story, but the myth has grown in size and mystery as it has been passed along & now all the Lake District robins dream and talk about The Beautiful Red Haired Mermaid that Lives Far Far Away, Down by the Sea who visited their garden one summer? I guess we will never know. But what I do know is, that by responding to life in this way, and by not allowing age and cynicism to dull my absolute wonder at the strangeness and beauty of the non human as well as human world, and not forgetting the absolute insane fact that Something exists rather than Nothing, that fortunately, five wondrous, time slowing minutes with a beautiful robin will always appear to me as something rather more than, "Oh, a very aggressive little bird (in the bird world) looked for some food around us for a few minutes before flying off," before checking my iphone or ipad (that would be if I had one) to see if anything on my News-feed had come through or in case a message to attempt to confirm my importance to myself had arrived. Because isn't that what the whole addiction to iPads, mobile phones, etc is really about? To try and make us feel more important and to prevent us from thinking about ANYTHING OTHER THAN the mysteries (both light and dark - there is much suffering as well as joy in life) of the world and existence? Well, for me, that little red flamed visitor wanted to somehow let us know that he and his kin loved and valued our presence, and that they were most certainly on our side when it came to us hopefully realising our dream of having our marriage celebration at Lancrigg. And if my memory serves me correctly, it was actually during this very visit that Robert made it known to us that indeed there was every chance that we would be able to have our dearest wish fulfilled and that our wedding celebration would actually be able to be held at Lancrigg. Rarely in life do the things that you yearn and hope for fall so blissfully and effortlessly into place.
During that beautiful mid-summer stay, we also thoroughly enjoyed the wonderful dining and evening relaxation that was to be had in abundance. With the weather being so incredibly warm and with us rested and glowing with joy at spending such precious time together, we also had the opportunity to get glam/goth-ed up in the evening, and one of my very favourite things about Lancrigg was that many of the guests always "dressed for dinner." That part of Lancrigg life was, for me, one of the other wonderful aspects that made you feel you as if you were not only in a different place physically, but also, in a different place regarding time, as nowadays when people "dress for dinner" they usually put on highly expensive clothes that are designed to look as if they cost hardly any money at all. Such a scruffy (not to mention hypocritical) society we currently inhabit. And if, as Kenneth Rexroth says, "the outer is a reflection of the inner" then what scruffy souls must be hidden underneath the charmless, sporty street garb such as trackies and, goodness gracious, "jogging pants!" that people wear so much now when they go out in the evening and which apparently passes for style. Dear, oh dear. Fortunately, that is not a trap Lydia and I are in any chance of falling into, and before and after dinner we used to love taking a few pics as Lancrigg is such a magical, atmospheric location that it would have been a sin against beauty, Lancrigg, and, indeed, Life itself not to have done so!!...
And then, about a couple of weeks after we had got back and had uploaded all the pictures that we had taken on to our computer, I wrote a short review of our stay and put a few of them on my old Myspace page (remember Myspace!?) as part of the review that I'd written and a rather wonderful thing happened. As some of you are probably aware, Lydia has already had, for quite some time now, an alter ego called Lady Stardust who regularly works as a 'Magician's Assistant' in various theatres and music halls up and down our glorious theatre-land. Well, alongside Magician's Assistant, Lydia could now add 'Alternative Model' to her CV, as the editor of an online Gothic Fashion Magazine contacted me to ask who the model in the pictures was, as they were wondering if she would be interested in doing some modelling for their next clothing catalogue collection. That story would require another blog post in itself so that will have to wait for another time, but below are a couple of the pictures that we took at Lancrigg that summer which so enamoured the editor of the online Gothic Fashion magazine that they then contacted us to ask if Lydia - Lady Stardust - would be interested in doing some photo-shoots for them in London a couple of months later...
I'm sure Lydia herself would tell you, though, if you asked her, that the locations for the professional photo shoots that she did down in London couldn't have held a candle to the extraordinary ambience that the John Richardson room in Lancrigg had in such magnificent abundance. And although I'm probably biased, I would completely agree with her!
Chapter IV:
"I Will Be King & You Will Be Queen."
"I Will Be King & You Will Be Queen."
Lydia and me were keen to try and keep things from not being too formal so we hadn't designated a Best Man/Best Man Speech or any Bridesmaids or anything (we had put together a faultless music playlist together, however!) as we were just so delighted to be celebrating our marriage at Lancrigg with the friends we felt closest to at that time. I'm sure you can imagine how much it meant to us then, when Robert said a few impromptu words about how honoured he, Janet and the staff were to have us there to celebrate our most special day with them. Lydia and me were incredibly moved and his words meant the world to us, and, with that, along with the truly genuine sparkle in his eyes, we knew that no where on earth would we have been able to find a more perfect host - and friend - for the day that we will remember with such warmth for the rest of our lives...
After dinner was finished we all transferred to the lounge where there was singing, music, games and lots and lots of alcohol was consumed. And, of course, there was cake!!...
And as the good will and more alcohol flowed, so too did the silliness...
And as you can see from the above picture, my dearest readers, your very own Nocturnal Butterfly began married life by being accosted by several different, insatiable women - three of whom were definitely not my wife - who as the picture above shows, did nothing at all to protect me!! Agh... what trials and tribulations we have to face in this world!
We were also given a couple of gifts that enabled us to learn some valuable lessons for our new married life, and it's a relief to know that there is always a little pocket book we can consent when a tricky situation arises and one of us might not know exactly what the best course of action might be...
But jesting aside, Lydia and me (and we sincerely hope everyone who was present also) had such an amazing evening, and the laughs, music and absolute joy we felt being amongst our friends was a wonderfully fitting way to end a perfect couple of days, and I'm not sure that I can even find the right words to describe just how beautiful it felt to us both. Some things, I guess, especially when they are this profound, are simply beyond language. I guess it can all be best summed up by the words that I had sang to Lydia during the evening of our celebration, taken from Bowie's 'Heroes', and which had also been the song that was played at our wedding ceremony the day before:
"I...I will be King
And you...
You will be my Queen."
And you...
You will be my Queen."
And to close this particular chapter, thank you from the very depths of our hearts to Robert, Janet, and all the staff at Lancrigg, who made our greatest wish - that of having our wedding celebration at our favourite hotel in the entire world, with our closest friends in attendance - not just a wish or a distant dream, but a genuine reality. We shall never, ever forget it.
Chapter V: Spring -
Say Hello Wave Goodbye
Say Hello Wave Goodbye
If this had been a novel, the last chapter would have been a lovely way to end the story, but as this blog is autobiographical, our story with Lancrigg has another chapter still to be told. And in the first couple of months of 2016, and although we knew it was going to happen at some point as Robert had talked to us quite a few times about how he was considering selling Lancrigg as he had been there for most of his life and wanted to travel and to do different things, Lydia received a call from Robert to say that somebody had made an offer and that he and Janet would be leaving Lancrigg. We had not been able to go there for about 18 months or so previous to this as not only had we moved to the south coast by this point, but my CF had also been causing many problems and going so far away from the hospital in Southampton would have been out of the question. But this time we just knew that if my health could manage it, we simply had to go and stay there that Spring as it would probably be the last time (Lancrigg is still a hotel, but we know it would never be the same without Rob and his incredible staff) that we would ever get to stay there again. Lydia and me had some long discussions with the specialists at the hospital, and they all urged us to go, as not only did they feel my CF was stable enough for the trip, they also felt it would have been terrible for us to miss this final opportunity, and that a lovely holiday at our favourite hotel in the world - and the place where we had shared so many memorable times - would be a real tonic for my spirits, which were in complete free-fall at that time because of the constant issues CF was causing me. And so, at the end of March in 2016, we boarded the train with not only our things - but also my mountains of medication and medical equipment - for what would be, in all likelihood, our last ever stay at Lancrigg. Robert kindly picked us up at Windermere station and, as usual, made us feel so welcome, and before long we were already camped in what will always be to Lydia and me, "Our Room," the John Richardson Room. Although it was cold and there was a light sprinkling of snow on the tips of the mountains, the days were beautifully sunny and clear, and we were still able to venture outside and enjoy the extraordinary colours and scents that the season had to offer...
...It was also the perfect setting for Lydia's Nei Gong practice...
...and, as always, we adored reading and staring at the view outside the window of the alcove in our room, and every now and then either Lydia or myself would quietly wander off to be by ourselves so we could be alone with our thoughts, as although we were in our element at being back at Lancrigg, there was a touch of wistfulness hanging in the air as we knew in our hearts that this would probably be our last ever stay there...
But the atmosphere of Lancrigg and the wonderful welcome and high spirits from Robert, Janet and the staff soon had us in a much brighter mood, and thoroughly determined to have an absolutely splendid time, and one which we could remember with the same fondness as all the other occasions we had spent at Lancrigg. Of course, one of the best ways to do this was to savour the glorious food in the Art Deco restaurant and after dinner, it was time for us to really start relaxing and following - well, at least on my part - the specialist's orders that I should enjoy a few drinks and try and relax, & forget as much as possible the dreadful worries and anxieties that my CF had been causing me. In that wonderful lounge, the place of so many joyous memories for both of us, this wasn't a particularly difficult thing to do!...
We then had a further nosy around and picked up some more books from one of the various book shelves that Lancrigg had so many of...
...before deciding it was time to head back to our room...
...where we soon realised that we were already becoming, or actually were - as the specialist had suggested/ordered - rather drunk!
But as this was our last night, what else were we supposed to do? Perhaps the Puritans out there would have done things a bit differently but who on earth would want to be a boring beige Puritan or follow their life-denying creed? Not me, that's for sure. Anyway, the mixed feelings I had of joy at being back at Lancrigg, yet knowing it would almost certainly be our last night there, was really quite overwhelming, and I can remember us both laughing till our sides ached one minute, only to find that one of us was welling up with tears the next. It really was a lot to take in. We also took a picture that evening which will forever remain not just one of my favourite Lancrigg pictures, but one of my favourite pictures that we have. It was captured by using the time delay on Lydia's camera, and despite my very tipsy condition, it seems to have captured so much about how I feel about both Lydia and Lancrigg. For this photo truly catches the gratitude, joy and astonishment I feel that Lydia and me were drawn into each other's orbit, my insane good fortune of being married to such a beautiful, talented lady and not only that, but that we would also discover this extraordinary place called Lancrigg which would then become one of the most sacred places in our hearts and also be the place where we celebrated our marriage. I try my very best to describe these types of feelings and thoughts through words but sometimes, a picture truly does say everything and this picture, I feel, sums up Lydia, Lancrigg & me, like no other quite does:
But then of course, after the joy, beers and wine of the previous evening came the moment we had been putting off: The Morning After the Night Before, and what will no doubt prove to be, the very last Lancrigg brekkie that we will have, with your very own Nocturnal Butterfly looking, as I'm sure you will agree, somewhat bedraggled and a bit worse for wear...
But before you judge me too harshly, dear reader, and as our good friend Jason will most readily confirm, that Lady Stardust is most definitely a terrible influence in such matters! And what's wrong with that, I ask you? Because nobody wants to be a good influence, do they, that would just be boring!! I think that kind of stuff is probably better left to the maths teachers in their dreadful unbuttoned shirt collar and naff jumper combos and all those Sunday sermon preachers! Oh, dear lord...
We then spent the rest of the morning in a kind of daze. I mechanically went about doing my all my nebulisers and treatments, and the atmosphere had a definite tinge of unreality about it. I guess we never even wanted to really entertain the thought that Lancrigg would change hands and that a day would come when we knew in our heart of hearts that we would probably never return there. But that was what was going through our minds. But as Prince sang, on his defiantly decadent '1999' with its call to party and pay homage to the the sublimity of the senses: "Life is just a party and parties weren't meant to last," we also knew that we had made the most of practically every second we had ever spent at Lancrigg. Robert and the staff had, from our very first visit, made us feel like guests of honour, and we also knew from chatting to Robert how much he wanted to do something different with his life, even though leaving Lancrigg - for him probably even more than us - was going to be an enormous wrench. But these are the things we have to do to be able to explore life in all its possibilities. To coin a New Age phrase, which has more than a grain of truth in it despite it being New Age, nothing is permanent and everything changes. One of my favourite writers, Goethe, also knew this (see a previous blog for more details) and if he had been one of the ghosts that constantly kept us company in the John Richardson room at Lancrigg, he would surely have nodded his wise old head in approval at Robert's decision to move on, and also at the way we ourselves had drained every ounce of Lancrigg's magic into our lives, yet were also ready to move on with our spirits high. In a sentence, grateful to the depths of our being for the time we had spent and enjoyed there, but light enough to move into the future.
And so, we finally had to acknowledge that our visits to Lancrigg were all but over. Lydia has said to me that she may visit for tea at some point in the future and would never rule that possibility out (it may be a little more difficult for me to do so as travelling as far as the Lake District now because of my CF is very difficult) but the likelihood of either of us staying there are very remote indeed. We had a final look around our room and then headed to the front desk to find Robert, who had kindly volunteered to give us a lift back to Windermere station. At the entrance we took a couple of photos and had a big hug. I'm not sure who started to cry first but I have a feeling it was me. Robert wasn't far behind me and then Lydia started crying too and before we knew it, we were all sobbing in each other's arms, looking like a human oak tree. And then, finally, because trains won't wait, we dried our eyes, got into Robert's car and began the journey down the lovely winding drive way, through the orchard where we had stopped to catch our breath the first time we saw the magnificent doe with her beautiful fawns as we had arrived one summer, and then into Grasmere itself and then out on the open road to Windermere station. Such was that emotional, early afternoon back in late March, 2016.
But, despite our tears, this is not and should not be about sadness. Lancrigg gave us some of the most treasured experiences and memories of our lives together. Our wedding celebration was there, and on every visit we made we relaxed, ate exceedingly well, had adventures and recharged our batteries. As I seem increasingly to interpret life musically, It was at different times peaceful (Brian Eno), romantic (Suede), dreamy (Debussy), otherworldly (Boothy), sublime (Wagner), deeply attached (Bowie), detached (Erik Satie), funny (The Long Blondes), wistful (Abba), intoxicating (Queen), invigorating (Blondie), and gave us many truly wonderful, life-affirming moments. And it also brought us two wonderful friends in Robert and Janet. What more can one really ask for? And so, a new chapter was to begin. Our lives on the south coast have been trans-formative, and in many respects unrecognisable from the one we had when we lived in the north west. Lydia has had a complete change of career and we have swapped the hardy, industrial north for the calm, majesty and divine feminine flow of the sea. We have lost contact with some friends that we had but made splendid new ones. And Robert and Janet themselves have been travelling the UK & Europe (we received a lovely postcard from them written whilst they were drinking coffee and grappa on the terrace of a cafe that was nestled on the location of Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain in Switzerland), and they were also able to visit us last year which was a wonderful surprise. As for Lydia and me, I believe that our personal experience of Lancrigg pretty much sums up the lines that Freddie Mercury sang on 'Don't Try So Hard', and which encapsulate so much wisdom and knowledge into a single line: "Just savour every mouthful, and treasure every moment." I think Freddie would agree that we followed his sagely advice rather well. And although Lydia, Robert, Janet and myself have all had to Say Hello & Wave Goodbye to our beloved Lancrigg, there were and still are new possibilities, discoveries and adventures, and a dew-kissed, Spring-like New Grass, waiting for all of us just over the horizon.
Stay Beautiful.
