Up early for a full English breakfast. Normally I would be all for trying the local cuisine but I was still full from last night’s Indian food extravaganza. So being greeted by the full English brekky was more ick than yum. And what IS that black pudding they speak of? Doesn’t look like any pudding I know.

Non Sequitor – Now I know where some of our more esoteric Southern breakfast traditions may have originated. Dang English ancestors!

After pushing my food around my plate a bit and a giant cup of Joe, H and I caught the train into Derbyshire. The English pronounce it as though it is spelled Darbyshire. In general, local folk seem to slur and smush all the town names. Basically, say the syllables as quickly and smoothly as possible! Quite fun to listen to but also a wee bit hard to determine if you’re on the right train and bus.

There was no first class on this leg of the trip so being on the train was more bus-like than train. It’s still better than the subway but only because the cars are nicer and more comfy. We then had to take a bus to get to Chatsworth House. I didn’t ask for our tickets quite the right way so it was a bit awkward. The bus driver and I didn’t quite see eye to eye although we were talking about the same thing. After a confusing discussion and a wee bit of the ‘damn Americans’ attitude from the driver, we finally got on the bus to the quaint village of Baslow-Nether End. Mr. Bus Driver was very nice in explaining how to ‘order’ bus tickets once he got over the fact that I wasn’t a rude American but one who didn’t know ‘bus lingo’. I get it now!

The area around Chesterfield is gorgeous. It’s the doorway to the Peaks District which ‘boasts some of the most spectacular scenery in all of England’, to quote Miss Austen. The prettiest countryside I’ve seen so far. It’s mostly farms nestled among really spectacular hills and valleys. Lots of sheeps! And for the first time since I was a kid I saw pigs in a pasture, not inside some hideous longhouse. Maybe that’s why bacon around here looks better than our icky stuff. Not that I would eat the pig! I love the pig!

I’ll definitely be returning to the Peaks to do a full walking/cycling vacation. Maybe next fall but I’ll need to find a more compatible traveling partner. H is fantastic. She’s a born navigator and can figure out the most confusing signs. But I want to travel with someone whose cultural interests are more closely aligned with my own. Someone who’s gonna be just as slack jawed at the sight of some random henge or 17th century church as I would be. Someone who’s still excited by the little things like the train ticket machine or being offered sparkling or still water. Hee! More often than not, I enjoy just the experience of a place–sitting and taking in all the sounds smells sights. I don’t have to see anything. Just being in a new and foreign place is a lot of what I enjoy. I would love someone to share that with. Or someone who’s been there done that but hasn’t lost their excitement for new places and experiences.

I’ve enjoyed tooling around alone but it’s also made me more aware of my feelings of isolation. I’ve always sort of ignored them. But now I’m convinced I’m looking for my home–a city and a country–as well for my kith and kin. I always knew I was looking for my people…you know, my clan, my group, my herd…those with whom I completely mesh and fit in with. I always seems to feel out of place, an outsider. Even here in my home state and city I feel like a visitor. That may be the reason for my restlessness and desire to move. It seems I have a three year shelf life location limit. I supposed three years is just long enough to figure out I’m not at home, yet. I hope I find it soon. I’m looking for something and for a very long time I thought it was a person. Now I think it’s a group – my tribe. After this trip it’s expanded even more. Now it’s a tribe from a particular locale. I think I need the group and the environment for it work. I’m sure this is all about my feelings of disassociation from when I grew up. I wonder if there really is someplace or some people that will give me that sense of belonging I crave. Something to ponder.

At Nether End we hopped on the bus up to Chatsworth House. A short and lovely trip. The road comes around a hill or two then you drop into a small valley where the house sits. The grounds around the house were just what you’d imagine for a country home for a royal.

The house is situated on the highest part of a rise within a valley. The grounds slope gently away and down to the River Derwent. Around the sides and behind the house are beautiful green hills–all of it managed and owned by the Duke of Devonshire. For the most part it looks like a huge lawn but there are tons of mature trees and the gardens run along the side and back of the main house. This was my first palace. And it’s amazing! However, the grounds are really what I’m impressed with. As far as the eye can see is Chatsworth land. Stunning!

The house is the property of a non-profit House Trust. The Duke had to give Chatsworth away in order to ‘keep’ it. The Duke pays rent on the areas he and the family use which is why not all the house is on display or open for visitors.

We did the house and garden tour. The house took about an hour or so because they had a special exhibit on Andrew Cavendish the 11th Duke of Devonshire. He’s the brain behind the non-profit trust. He did that because his father’s sudden death left the family in debt because death duties at the time were 80% of everything they owned. Ouch! They had to give up some houses and land and a bunch of art to pay the government. It took them 20 years to get out of debt. Now it’s a money making farm, estate and tourist attraction. It’s a great way to spend the day too. I will return in the summer for picnicking as the gardens are simply too wonderful not to take advantage. The duke also opened all his land to walkers long before it because trendy. So to go on a big trek would be a fabulous way to spend a weekend.

There was a huge and horrible sculpture exhibit all through the grounds put on by Sotheby’s. I just don’t understand modern art. It was really quite anachronisitic to walk around the grounds and see giant blobs of metal or glass representing some horror of modern life, or whatever it’s supposed to mean, on the ground of a gorgeous 18th century palace. It just doesn’t go together. Looking at the pieces was a horror enough. Who wants to see a sculpture of a woman in a back bending yoga pose? Not I. Well, look anyway.

There was one very odd but beautiful piece of permanent art on the ground called ‘Revelation’. It was behind the house gardens in a little wooded pond area. It was very secluded and I imagine a fantastic place to be in the summer. There is a giant metal flower that spouts water – as the main belly of the bud fills up the petals slowly bloom open. As the water empties, the petals slowly close. There was a very energetic older man and his wife who thought the whole thing astounding. And his enthusiasm was infectious although H was having none of it! A very striking and unique piece. And odd for a house full of mostly classical art and sculpture. Here’s a 3 minute vid of the event, with captions so you can understand everyone. It takes a while to load but I think you’ll find it funny.

But the Duke was a huge art connoisseur, both modern and not. He was a patron to many famous artists I’ve never heard of. Which accounts for the connection with Sotheby’s and the wacky giant sculpture exhibitions the grounds.

Nonetheless, it was thrilling to see many of the locations from P &P–the painted gallery, the sculpture gallery and the big canal from the final scene. I also got to see the Veiled Vestal Virgin. I have been wanting to see here since seeing the movie 2 or 3 years ago. She’s quite beautiful but not as bright white as I thought she’d be–then I figured it out. All the pictures I’ve seen of her were flash or stage lit photos which obviously brightens the marble considerably. Nevertheless, she’s really something to behold. The most moving aspect of the piece is her veil. It truly looks like real fabric. I have come to appreciate classical sculpture more and more each year. Is this a sign I’m getting older or is it a sign of my improved refinement? I think it’s really just an appreciation of how challenging it must be to make stone look soft, pliable and alive. I know that many art aficionados find near photo like art boring but I think it’s amazing.

There are so many wonderful aspects of Chatsworth that are must sees–the rock garden, a lovely grotto, a maze, the gardens, the waterfall and the house, of course. We finished up and headed back to the bus stop for the trip back to Chesterfield and then the train to London. The weather had chilled quite a bit and it began to rain as we were leaving Chatsworth. So we were happy to jump onto the bus and head back to the Chesterfield train station. Odd note about Chesterfield station lifts – the up button looks like a down button and the visa versa. We figured it was because you called the lift up first in order to go down. It was all we could come up with.

While we waiting for the train H tried her first Cornish pasty. I think it will be her last one. It looked really yummy but it tasted like icky Dinty Moore beef stew wrapped in a bread-like crust. It smelled great too and probably would be quite yummy if fresh but we had to buy it from a snack cart. I gave it try and it was pretty gross. All it did was really make us both very hungry!

So, we were starving and decided to order dinner since the first lass train tickets we had were quite plush. Once we got on the train we settled in to the very nice first class section. There was china on the table along with free wine and juice. Free wine! Woo hoo! Dinner was served by a waiter to boot. Quite nice! H ordered a pasta which was very Chef Boyardee and my mushroom soup wasn’t great but OK. All in all, it was good enough for two traveling janes who were quite cold!

We were on a fast train which chopped off a half an hour of th trip. But there were some problems with the Piccadilly line so we had to do some navigating to get home. All was nice and quiet then. I packed up and got ready for the departure the next day. And H had to pack and get ready for a few days in Spain for a sit inspection. She left at 5 AM! Ick. At least I didn’t leave till 2 PM.

Another terrific day in England!