Childhood recollections

Visits to Arnside

Leaving the M6 and been driven down the tree arched, narrow lanes towards Grandads house was one of mixed feelings. Sheer excitement that we were nearly there, but a dread that the winds and dips in the road would probably make my back seat passenger, motion sickness worse. I would try and deep breathe, look forward and suck frantically on the barley-sugar sweet. I had been given travel sickness pills on previous journeys, but always ended up 'wasting' 2 hours of Grandad's house time on arrival, due to having to crash out. This in itself was strangely comforting as I lay atop the burgundy eiderdown on the huge double bed, which became my sister's and my bed for the 1-2 week stay. Jumping up after the travel pill induced sleep, I would run down-stairs, after first peeking round the corner of each room, and stopping 3 stairs short of the bottom, jump into the hall, thus making the telephone receiver 'ding', something that I had found out by accident one day; if you trod a certain way in the hall the telephone would 'magically' ring just once.

By-passing the lounge, I would go through to the kitchen. I was always fascinated by the red formica work top with its little gold flecks, and the solid fuel, stove with the 'pipe that must never be touched'. More than anything though would be the exit from kitchen to the garden, that both me and my sister would savour each visit. The kitchen door led out from the side of the house to the driveway, and the beautiful garden on either side of the pink and white alternating paving stones that went to the top of the garden, through a couple of rose covered archways. Roses were in abundance, and their fragrence likewise, topped off by the deliciousness of sweet peas. I don't remember what it looked like at any time other than summer. That's not to say that we didn't visit at other times, just that those poignant memories have stayed with me; the garden during its other seasons, evidently did not.

I do remember the rainy September October days during our half term visits. The garden had a washing line which when it rained, I would watch from the window; the rain-drops sliding down the line. I likened them to 'fairy cable cars'. It was a wonderful garden for fairy imaginings, but the front garden was even more so.

Why was the front garden more magical? I'm not sure now to be truthful; looking at the picture here (I sneakily took this from the garden gate, at a recent visit to Arnside). This picture somewhat belies the childhood wonder my sister and I enjoyed so much. Rushing out after tea into the gnat-strewn evening sun, we would race to the bottom right corner of the garden to assemble a 'fairy feast'. This would comprise of a flat stone, with a selection of flower petal dishes and cups, painstakingly arranged on the top, after several attempts to stop it all falling over! Cushions of moss around the table would complete the look; even having a 'grander' one for the Fairy queen to sit. In our joy and excitement we would come in to show our spectacle to the grown ups!