A Day in Bamburgh

Bamburgh is such a pretty village. It reminds me of St Mary Meade, the fictional setting for Agatha Christie's Miss Marple books. I fancy moving there, opening an old fashioned detective agency/ tea rooms. Hetty and I could solve crimes over Earl Grey, cucumber sandwiches and victoria sponge. There is also something quite eerie about the place. There is a little square in the centre which is surrounded by trees. It is anything but pretty, the trees are so big that the square is permanently shady and dark. It is inhabited by dozens of rooks, which swoop and caw constantly. Creepy. Daphne Du Maurier would have loved Bamburgh.

Here is Madam Noir and Hetty, trying to look demure next to some beautiful hydrangeas.

From the beach you can see Holy Island and the Farne Islands. Hetty had some serious bouncing to do. The sky was steely grey and the sea was pewter, but it was still beautiful.
Next we explored the winding paths that snake through the dunes. This path took us right past the castle. The dunes are my favourite part of Bamburgh, I adore the windswept, blue-green marron grass.
'Twas lunchtime. Those dunes are breathtaking, but rather tiring to climb (especially in Birkenstocks). Foster's Bar, 'no dogs'? Shame on you!

Hmmm. Fish and Chips at the Victoria Hotel. It looks lovely doesn't it? Sadly for me it was less than 'historic', very disappointing. Still my loss was Hetty's gain. She had already devoured steak pie from Bamburgh's very famous butchers. She ended up having a whole battered haddock too.

We were planning on returning to the beach, for more fresh, North Sea air, but sadly the heavens opened after lunch. We came home.

There you go. Miss Underscore's summer holiday 2009 over. To think, in 2007 I visited New York twice. In 2009 I've had a day at Bamburgh beach, and a weekend in a freezing cold, Somerset pig-sty. Bloody credit crunch!