We left our Matlock accommodation yesterday morning and drove to Chatsworth. This was a great highlight of our last trip, and Andrew especially was looking forward to taking the kids to see it. Seeing such places prompts lots of discussions about how the world has changed, and what these places need to do, these days, in order to keep going. Chatsworth, of course, does it all particularly well.
There was a golden statue, in this chapel, of Bartholomew, holding a huge pair of scissors, and his skin! Most unpleasant. Bethany, who didn't really notice the skinlessness, took a photo and then edited it to make it PG.
I so love the chinoiserie wallpaper!
After the house, we fortified ourselves with icecream or coffee, chatted to a fat pug called Rupert (everyone brings their dogs to the gardens, and pugs are very popular), then set off to explore the gardens.
We spent 3 1/2 hours there, seeing the bare minimum, before we started driving north to Yorkshire. The countryside is so different; wild, windy, and divided up by drystone walls. It's Brontë country alright.
Today, we drove a short distance on the narrowest roads to Haworth and the Brontë Parsonage museum.
|This is the original painting by Branwell Brontë, of his sisters, having removed himself. It is currently on loan to the museum.|
|All the family, except Anne, are buried under the church|
I may have cried a little bit on visiting Charlotte's house. The museum was fascinating, and the town itself, is hilly, with cobbled streets in the centre. There are many references to the Brontë family. Joss ate an eclair from the Vilette bakery.
Toby, Andrew and I went for a walk to the Brontë waterfalls, across fields, up and down steep hills.
Tomorrow, it's up to Scotland.