Picnic at the Castle

Way back at the beginning of April I had a plan.

That plan was that when the weather was nice we would definitely go for a picnic at the castle. I love this castle, I would be at it all the time, every single minute if I could. It's only a ruin and you would think that I had seen all of it that there is to see, given that it is pretty much the only thing in Tiny Town.

But no. I love it.

We had to wait a long time for the weather to be nice...

...the 1st June to be precise.

(Seriously, writing this post has really made me realise how shitty the weather has been lately. Two months to be able to have a tiny wee picnic? Are you kidding me?!)

We packed up our wares and headed over. We are sadly lacking in the picnic basket arena but where we don't have picnic baskets I have an outrageously unrelenting collection of cloth tote bags which is all you every need in this kind of situation.

We had a little bit of this and a little bit of that and most importantly, one of my crocheted blankets. I always thought when I made these blankets that I wanted them to be something I took out with me. Of course I had forgotten that I lived in the UK and it is never nice ever and thus my blankets have never really seen the light of day.

Oh hello picnic blanket. Hello castle. Hello The Person. Hello The Most English photo taken ever.

The sun beat down and we lay about, eating a bit, reading a bit and sleeping a bit.

I did the sleeping, whacked off my face on anti-histamines.

But after waking up I went and did some exploring. Like I said, I've seen this castle a huge number of times. I've wandered about with the official audio tour, I have hidden and scrambled about it, playing castles with my nephews. I have been here alone and with family and I love it to it's last stone.

Sometimes I see something new, other times, it's just an opportunity to take a photo of the same thing yet again - like this one that I took through this window. I must have twenty of these hidden in various files on my computer somewhere but it just always looks so good I can't resist yet another.

I love the fact that it its very solid walls have crumbled away at the seams in places.

Although I'd by lying if I said it didn't make me nervous.

Last time I was here the tower was closed for some repairs and I was gutted. The tower is the best part, all 121 steps of it.

It is a slightly terrifying climb, I am not a fan of spiral staircases and people in the days of yore had much smaller feet than this person does. Plus there was the added bonus of two pigeons that had decided to nest in the tower on the climb up, adding an extra element of danger to the already mildly perilous climb.

But the slightly aching thighs are worth it because the views from the top that await you are, you know, kind of nice...

Although I called the picnic photo The Most English Photo taken ever, I reckon that these guys are probably up there as well. You see these photos you can't help but think of England - and not in a creepy EDL, UKIP way, just in a "Man the scenery in our country is fricking awesome."

Despite the fact that you can see for miles around it took us an embarrassingly long time to figure out where even vaguely our flat lies. And I'll be honest, even now I'm not entirely convinced that we got it right.

After surveying our kingdom it was back down the staircase (more terrifying on the way back down than the way up fyi) and time to begin the trudge home. There are a couple of other grassy areas that we could go to and picnic it up for free, but you know what?

None of those come with a castle and if I've got to wait two months to have a picnic I'm going to make sure I do it in style.

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Yes. I am blogging about something that I did at the beginning of June at the end of the June. I'm a little behind around here.

BEDM Day 22: A lovely cup of tea

Aaah BEDM you were going so well for a minute there. You know what the problem is? I stopped being organised. I stopped having a big block of posts all banked up and ready to go at a moment's notice and then time overtook.

Well I'm pretty sure no-one's really crying about it, so let us move swiftly on without another mention of it again.

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I feel as if I'm pretty rough on Tiny Town, the place where I live. I'm always going on about how small it is and how I can't get out of it because there's no public transport and how there's only one street and there's no decent shopping.

But it does have one trick up its sleeve. A little gem which is so hidden away that there are people who don't even know that it's there.

And that is the Best Tearoom on the Planet. Ever.

I'm serious.

My tearoom > Your tearoom

The first time I visited was after a particular stressful and unsuccessful trip to the Post Office trying to post a present over to American Girl. I lugged it all the way into town only for the Post Office to try and charge me £67 to send it to the US. No thanks Royal Mail. Despondent and irritated I decided I would go in search of a lovely cup of tea - the only thing that can fix you in a situation like this.

I had seen a sign for this tearoom the week previously and was intrigued by it - you seemed to enter through a tiny alleyway and I could see nothing at all of what was inside. Wandering down the tunnel, I came out into a lovely little courtyard and I could immediately feel my bad feelings starting to dissipate. Over to my right was a doorway and upon opening it there was an inviting set of stairs leading up before me.

Upon arriving at the top of the stairs I felt transported to another world. This is a tearoom in every traditional sense of the word. We're talking lacy tablecloths and dark wooden furniture, mis-matched teacups and a plethora of teapots (some of which are for sale), 1920s music playing in the background and cakes and scones under glass domes on a sideboard in front of you.

There is no fancy website, or Facebook page, or Twitter account but what there is is a clientele which seems to exist almost solely of returned customers. People who have been there before and have been unable to resist the lure of returning again. The reason for this isn't just the calming atmosphere and the food on the menu (which is lovely by the way) but is the service. The person who owns and runs this coffee shop has to be the single most happiest and welcoming person on the planet. She is so outrageously nice that you just want to stay in her company for as long as possible. I know it's sad to say this, but in a world where people can sometimes be increasingly rude and standoffish, especially in the service industry, Lizzie is a breath of fresh air.

I've been a total of three times and she already remembers who I am and makes sure to say hello when she sees me. When my Mum came up for my birthday and asked me what I wanted to do I knew exactly where I wanted to take her. A conversation between us uncovered that Lizzie had been to Hull University (if there's a link back to my mothership I'll find it you know) and if I didn't like her before, the warmth with which she spoke of my home town cemented her as one of my favourite people in the world.

She even left the above note on our bill when we came to leave. *Heart swells with pride.*

I will continue to return to Lizzie's Tearooms whenever I get the opportunity. Not only because I can't wait to see what teacup I get next, but because it is a place where I can go and just sit back and escape from everything. A place where I can come to terms with the fact that there's only one street and there's no decent shops and there's no public transport. 

A place where I can just drink tea.

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Apologies for leaving you hanging in the lurch after my last post. I promise it was fun though. Pinky promise.