Easter: the Pemberley and other bits

So we survived bike riding in the snow, a little muddier for the experience but otherwise intact and made off for the town of Buxton. Our accommodation for the night was the Old Hall Hotel, where Mary Queen of Scots used to stay. It was more tired granny grandeur than anything once regal but a huge bed, a hot shower and a good night’s sleep left us with zero complaints. We hadn’t originally planned to stay somewhere old school shabby posh but it was the only place in the entire region that welcomed single night stays, this being the Easter long weekend and all so really, we were just grateful they’d have us.

Easter: the bits with the walking and biking

If it were not for the lingering chocolate in the house, I’d swear Easter never happened, it really does feel like that long ago. I’m not sure what that fact bears witness to – the slightly insane work situation perhaps (when four became two) or the fact that Spring has, almost, nearly, kind of, sort of sprung and the longer days and (albeit weak) sunshine feel like the end of the apocalypse and the start of life anew? Either way, Lovely Boy’s and my week away traversing the northwest and west of the UK feels like a surreal, visually stunning intermission between “before” and “now”.

The plan was to cram in all the parts of the UK that we hadn’t seen before, in the way that only Australians can. And by that I mean, casually intending to spend seven days driving 1252km and explaining to English colleagues who look at you like you’re fucking mad that hello, it’s only 876km from Sydney to Melbourne. 1252km is but a scenic spin.