Images from the Chatsworth House trip and hike

On the 8th of August my aunt and uncle from Nottingham, aunt from the East of England, all four of my younger cousins, my cousin's boyfriend, my brother, and I all went to Chatsworth House for the day. This journey differed from the last in two ways - the first being the amount of people in our group (seven then, ten now), and the second being the manner in which we visited Chatsworth and its grounds.

To start, the best route to Chatsworth House from Nottingham goes through the town of Chesterfield, known for its "crooked spire", the peak of the Church of St Mary and All Saints. Various explanations have been provided for why the spire is crooked, with the most likely being that it was built with damp wood that warped as it dried out. Another is that heavy lead was added to the spire a few hundred years after the church was constructed, and when it expanded in the sunlight it bent the frame.

I was fortunate to take this shot of the spire, as we were in motion and driving on a roundabout.

Rather than going directly to Chatsworth House we parked about a mile away from it. Our goal for today was to walk a nine-mile "loop" around the main grounds. The trek started off reasonably well, save for us having to turn around a couple of times because we were walking in the wrong direction. The above picture was taken when we were passing through a field full of sheep and cows, and presents a view of the Derbyshire landscape.

Unfortunately, the trek did go downhill somewhat for a spell: we ended up bumbling around a village or two and going into a field that wasn't a part of any of the paths. Worse, the maps we had for the loop were useless, as the routes listed on them didn't appear to exist (either that or we had the wrong maps).

The walk brightened up again when we encountered a helpful couple who directed us to the paths through the forest. After thanking them we made our way to the forest, of which a brief segment is shown in the above picture. However, the walk through the forest consisted of going almost entirely uphill, and whenever we were approaching the top of a hill we kept saying to ourselves "we should be able to see Chatsworth from the top of this next peak!".

This was taken from one of the highest points in our journey, and it shows an even better portion of the Derbyshire landscape than one of the aforementioned images. With its wonderful mountains and countryside, Derbyshire is amongst the most beautiful counties I've visited in the United Kingdom since moving back.

Another shot from the highest peak in our walk, this time of a zoomed-in view of the road leading into and out of Chatsworth House. However, we still could not see the house itself even from this vantage point, and so we continued on the path before reaching a crossroads with a helpful sign saying "house" and directing us to the left.

We never saw Chatsworth House from the peaks we climbed that day, and it was only when we approached the main grounds after walking downhill that we finally saw it. The route from our parking place to Chatsworth House was about nine miles in length (or at least felt like it anyway...we were walking for several hours!), but it did not consist of going on the loop. Everyone was tired and incredibly hungry when we arrived at Chatsworth House - during our afternoon meal not one of our plates had any food remaining.

There were still several hours remaining before Chatsworth House and its grounds closed for the day, so everybody except for my uncle and me chose to visit the house's interior. My uncle and I wanted to take advantage of the beautiful weather, and so opted to walk around the gardens.

The above picture is of the south wall of Chatsworth House; last year that end of the house was covered with scaffolding from all the renovations being done at the time. It was nice to get a proper picture of the south side.

This rock entrenched in one of Chatsworth's many ponds was the catalyst to the highlight of the day. My uncle and I decided it would be a great idea to leap onto the rock and take some pictures from it, citing "no one's likely ever done it before." We easily cleared the jump down to the rock, congratulated ourselves on our achievement, and then took some pictures. Then came the issue of getting back over.

The gap between the pond rock and the rock nearest to the main path was three-and-a-half in length and two feet in height...meaning we had to jump up as well as over. My uncle went first - he performed a running jump and clear the gap back over. I thought for a moment, and then I decided to pass all of my electronic equipment - camera, phone, and Vado - to my uncle. It was the best decision I had made all day, because when I attempted the run-jump back I did not jump high enough, I felt my stomach collide with where my feet were supposed to me, and I fell into the water. Chest-deep in stinky, muddy water. I took my uncle's hand and climbed out of the pond, and then we made our way to the nearest bathroom, where my uncle had to hand-wash most of my clothes in a sink.

A shot of the fountain, located at the south end of the house. I do wish I had taken this picture, and my others similar to it, with the camera held vertical rather than horizontal (as well as a little straighter). Still, I think it's a fine image.

A view of Chatsworth House from the back on that lovely, sunny day. I was still mostly wet at this point, and it had been over half an hour since my clothes had all been washed. After I had captured this my uncle and I then sat at one of the tables at the rear exit of the house to wait for the rest of our group; needless to say, when they had finished inside the house and its gift shop a few minutes later they were surprised to see the dampness of my clothing!

We all ate an ice cream each, and then all my cousins, my cousin's boyfriend, my brother, and I went to the maze in the gardens. We had to find the centre fairly quickly, as it was getting close to 6:00, Chatworth's closing time. After reaching the middle we took a few pictures and then hurriedly returned to the house when one of the keepers of the gardens shouted at people to start hurrying up!

One of my last pictures of the house that day, of the front and taken with my phone. When we left the house we still had about an hour's walk to the car park, giving my clothes additional time to dry; I only had to change my shirt and sit on a bag for the journey back to Nottingham.

It was a superb day. The weather was perfect, we had a lengthy walk, saw more of the countryside, had plenty to eat, saw the house and its gardens, and had an overall amazing time. We were exhausted at the end, and it almost goes without saying that everyone slept well that night, but we were contented. As for the mud...well, that merely added another layer of fun, didn't it?

Short Stories: The Garden Dance, Part III

"Hello?"

A feminine voice knocked me out of my thoughts. I turned to my left to see a young woman standing next to me; she had lengthy, wavy light blonde hair; was only slightly shorter than me, and had a yellow dress on. She was incredibly beautiful and I assumed her to be a little older than myself.

"Hi!" I replied a little too excitedly, mainly because I was surprised.

"Are you waiting for someone or something?" she asked. "For the last half an hour I've been watching you stand there."

"Half an hour? I've been standing here for a minute," it was true: when I glanced at my watch it was more than half an hour later from when I previously checked the time.

This bothered her slightly but she shrugged it off. "Will you dance with me?" she then asked. "I'm Heather." She had a posh accent, like a higher pitched Joanna Lumley; there was also an interesting combination of a "giggling" tone to her voice mixed with confidence.

Once again I forgot all about the mystery of my surroundings. "Yes, of course," I answered with a smile.

Heather smiled back, took my hands, and we began a slow dance in the courtyard; I had never danced before, yet somehow I knew exactly what I was doing and everything just felt "right". Despite Heather initiating the dance, I gradually found myself leading it as we talked. Our conversation mainly involved learning more about each other and talking about our town...we were really getting along together, and our discussion flowed perfectly...until we reached the topic of the garden dance.

"Have you noticed anything strange about this place?" I asked.

This created the first pause in the conversation, and I could see that Heather was thinking my question over. After a minute, she answered: "Yes, can we talk about this elsewhere?"

"Of course," was my reply. We exited the main dancing area and made our way to the back of the garden; most people were now in the courtyard but a few were still wandering around the garden.

"I have", Heather said when we reached our destination, and she took my hands to start dancing again, turning so that neither of us faced the view of the mountain range and the lake. "Nothing has been consistent since I arrived this morning: one moment I was here on my own, then suddenly I am surrounded! Sometimes time is fast, other times it is slow...and it's not my perception of it either! I found everything, no matter how extraordinary, making sense to me until I saw you!"

"I remember my brother and I arriving here first, and we were told by the doorman that we were early," I responded. "I then recall everyone suddenly showing up when they weren't supposed to be here for another twenty minutes. No one else is noticing, we seem to be the only ones..."

"Excuse me, cutting in here," an attractive, middle-aged woman with short, thick, and curly hair interrupted. She took me from Heather's hands and started to dance with me; I attempted to free myself from her grip, but she was too strong for me.

"Who are you and why have you cut in?" Heather asked angrily. "Let go at once!"

"Now now, as the host I'm entitled to dance with whomever I wish, and I can't have anyone spoil the festivities with questions!" the older woman smiled.

"You're The Landlady!" I gasped. "Can you explain what is going on?"

"Explain what?" she asked with a smile. "Why do you need an explanation? Why not just appreciate the moments for what they are?"

"I do appreciate moments," I replied, looking around for Heather but noticed that she had disappeared and that the hedges had changed to block the way back into the rest of the garden. "But when it looks as though time itself is acting out of character, I want an explanation."

"Tsk...well if comes to that..."

Suddenly, the place where I had just been standing, the hedges, and The Landlady had all vanished. Time once again behaved strange, as the fall from my previous position to the surface of the water felt like hours, even though it was only fifty feet up. Then, as soon as I did reach the lake...


"Hey, wake up!"

I was abruptly awakened by Jimmy hitting my face. I stood up and had a look around to see where I was: I found myself back at the chairs where Jimmy and I drank our iced hot chocolate. The dance was still in progress, but the only two people in my immediate vicinity were my brother and someone who I partially recognised.

"You fell asleep," the person said, and I noticed they were holding our empty cups of hot chocolate. "I've never seen anyone fall asleep to hot chocolate before!" It occurred to me that this individual was the faceless man, but they had a face now.

"Asleep?" I asked. "No I fell in the lake...how did I get out?"

"Lake?" asked Jimmy. "No, really, you've been asleep for the last few minutes. Come on, get up and go back to the dance! Heather's just arrived and she's waiting for you!"

I could not explain it. I had a clear memory of arriving at Ketterland Mansion with Jimmy hours ago and could remember all the oddities of the place, yet judging from Jimmy's reaction and the faceless man now having a face, I was now unsure if it really all happened, or if it did but in different manner to how I could recall it. Did I really dream it all? Though if that was the case what about all the strange occurrences before I dozed off? Who really was The Landlady, and why was I sent into the water when I asked for an explanation? None of it mattered anymore...for the final time my thoughts on the matter faded, and I returned to the garden dance to join Heather.

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That concludes The Garden Dance. The story is based on a dream I had in the last couple of weeks, and this piece has more of a clear ending than my actual dream did: the only parts of it I can remember were the pond area with my brother, Heather's appearance and me dancing with her, The Landlady cutting in, and then I was thrown into the lake.  

Anything that appears to be a plot hole is intentional...the story is meant to be like a dream: inconsistent, a complete mystery, leaves the viewer wondering what happened, but is beautiful nonetheless. I had a great time writing The Garden Dance, let me know what you think!

Short Stories: The Garden Dance, Part II

It took less than a minute for Jimmy and I to drink our ice cube-filled hot chocolates, though strangely I found myself dozing off for a moment after swallowing my chocolate, but I was able to quickly remove myself from the brief bout of sleepiness. Not wanting to be lazy, we then carried our empty cups with us when we got up from our chairs and made our way over to what appeared to be a small gap in part of the tall hedges surrounding the entire garden. The gap seemed to get bigger the closer we walked towards it, until we were standing at a large gate wooden gate. Curious at its sudden appearance, I unbolted it and we both stepped through.

On the other side of the gate lay seemingly endless grass fields, but about twenty yards in front of us was a path surrounding a pond. We went left on the path and walked to the other side of the body of water before we heard voices; Jimmy and I spun around to see several other people entering through the gate.

"It looks like everyone else has arrived," I remarked. "Perhaps we should return to the garden."

We continued on our previous direction around the path and made it back to the gate. At that point, everyone else in the pond area had decided to leave as well, meaning I had to hold the gate open for them all until only I remained. I shut the gate and re-bolted it once I was back in the garden.

There were now a hundred other people in the garden, but they all appeared as though they had been here for hours: they were talking, singing, eating, dancing, laughing...glancing at my watch, they could barely have been here for more than ten minutes, but no one would know that from the activity now taking place. Still, everything was just making sense to me somehow, and I stopped my brief bit of thinking on the matter to go to the centre of the garden as I had just noticed something hidden there within the middle hedges. I looked around for Jimmy on my way, but I quickly assumed he had wandered off.

Situated within the central hedges was a courtyard, and although people were dancing all over the vast garden, the flat flooring of the courtyard was the "main" dance floor. There were tables filled with food and drinks located to the sides of the interior of the courtyard, as well as slow jazz music playing although I could not see or hear exactly where the music was originating from. I put my empty cup from earlier down and began to think.

Just a few minutes ago, everything made sense and only briefly did I think about the mysteries of Ketterland Mansion: now I found myself realising what an enigma it was all turning out to be. There were several aspects of the place that were completely out of the ordinary or outright contradictory; but as I looked around I could not see a single frown or any indication that anyone other than myself found anything suspicious. One other thing came to mind: where was The Landlady herself in all of this?

As I was thinking, something else then ended up drawing my attention away from trying to figure out what was going on.

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This was supposed to be a one-part story, but I have had a really pleasant time in writing it; I hope you are looking forward to the third part as much as I am!

Short Stories: The Garden Dance, Part I

It was a lovely, warm spring day, and my brother Jimmy and I were arriving at a garden dance being held at Ketterland Mansion. We had been surprised during the recent winter when we received our invites in the mail, but we were certainly pleased to have been invited and were eager to attend: in every year for the past thirty-three years, the landlady of Ketterland Mansion held a dance at her home, and the event had become to be held in such by high esteem by the people of the town of Ketterland that it was an honour just to be invited.

While the dance itself was highly regarded, little was known about the woman herself: the people who had gone to the dances rarely spoke of her, other than to say how much of a wonderful person she was. Despite only a small group of people knowing what she looked like, it was common knowledge in the town that she was middle-aged but highly beautiful. However, no one knew her name, and she was referred to (and apparently even addressed as) "The Landlady".

The respect the dance earned probably came from the amount of people invited to each dance and the routine used to invite them: at the beginning of every winter, a hundred random inhabitants in Ketterland received letters from The Landlady informing them that they had been invited to her annual garden dance in the spring; the letters also told them to ensure that they would be free for the second weekend of April. Near the end of the winter, the same group of people would then receive a package containing their outfits for the occasion (we received a black suit each), plus a reminder to keep the date of the event free of any other engagements. To date, everyone who had been invited had attended.

"Well, we're here, and we are on time," I said to Jimmy while looking at my watch as we climbed the stairs to The Landlady's front door. "Do you want to knock or shall I?"

"You're the older brother," Jimmy replied.

"A 'yes' or a 'no' would have sufficed, but I'll assume that's a 'yes'." I was about to knock when I noticed a doorbell instead. "Ah!" I gasped as I pressed the button.

We waited for about a minute before the door opened and a man without a visible face ushered us in and closed the door behind him. He directed us to the backyard of the mansion then he returned to answering the front door while Jimmy and I marvelled at the sight of the massive garden in the backyard of Ketterland Mansion. The entire place looked like the sort of garden you would see in a Princess Diaries film, rather than anyone's backyard (even someone with a mansion), although it was sloped. At the very back of the garden was a view of a mountain range I had never noticed before, and in front of the mountains was a lake I never knew existed either: the garden was situated at least fifty feet above the water.

To our surprise, the garden was deserted. Besides the faceless man who answered the door we had not seen anyone since we arrived. We had a look around for twenty minutes before returning to the mansion; however, upon trying to re-enter the building, the faceless man appeared again.

"You're early," he said in a low and strangely echoed voice, and I realised at that point my watch was an hour early. "The rest of the guests won't arrive for another twenty-five minutes. Could I interest you in a hot chocolate?"

"Yes please," came our reply, and the faceless man pulled out a thermos and two cups from his jacket, poured us a hot chocolate each and put two ice cubes from the opposite end of the thermos in them.

"Cheers," he said after he passed us our cooling-down hot drinks; then he put two cubes in the thermos and drank the rest of the liquid straight from it.

The man again returned to the front door. With little else to do at that moment in time, Jimmy and I found a place to sit down, have our drinks, and wait for everyone else to arrive.

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As I wrote this, the story ended up being longer than I thought it would be. I will post part II tomorrow, and if that part concludes the story I will give all the background to The Garden Dance plus some insight into the odder parts of this piece. My brother's name in this story is fictional.