The Appeal of a Place with a Past

I HAVE just returned home from a little Easter trip that encompassed time in the picturesque and pretty Rufford Abbey, two castles in wild and beautiful Northumberland and the moodily, magical town of Whitby.

We visited Alnwick Castle, better known to my children as Hogwarts in some of the Harry Potter films. On the day we visited there was broomstick riding lessons on offer. Hilarious to watch and take part in, my children loved their teacher Professor Whippersnapper. He taught them the correct way to mount a broom and the noises you must emit whilst riding, shrieking "Weeee" was strictly prohibited as you mustn’t wee on a broom, sound advice for my fledgling witch and wizard.

We travelled on to Dunstanburgh castle, a more mean and moody fortress on the edge of a stretch of glorious coastline, you will struggle to equal. To my children it became the backdrop for a game that I never knew the detail of, but lent itself to much running and laughing and exploring as the wind whipped back hair and cheeks grew increasingly rosy.

Both Rufford and Whitby have memories for me that steep back to my childhood. I remember reading, The Secret World of Polly Flint, a book that enthralled me with its tales of another world reached via a bridge over the lake in Rufford Park, a former Abbey and then stately home.

Seeing the actual bridge and trying to sneak a peek, as a child, still makes me tingle as an adult. Even though I suspect that bridge is no more a portal to another world than the back of my wardrobe is an access point to Narnia, the imagination is a gloriously golden thing that if we let it, helps us to conjure and wonder.

Whitby I was taken to as a child and have visited often since. I have such affection for it that I even worked it in to a story. I compared St Augustine’s church, perched as it does on the cliff top overlooking Penarth and dominating the skyline as you look across from Cardiff Bay, with the famous St Mary’s at the top of the 199 steps watching over Whitby.

Admittedly, to my knowledge, there are no vampire stories connected to our church, but there is still history and beauty and it was as much a landmark to weary travellers years ago as it is to those returning home, today.

Indeed, this has been my overwhelming feeling today. I’m a bit of a tired traveller.

However, I am also an eager one. I love to explore.

I love to revisit the places of childhood, places that fired my imagination. But equally I like seeing them with adult eyes and then through the eyes of my children, discovering and exploring anew.

I love finding new places and having fresh experiences, with the joy and comfort that when I come home, I am fortunate to live in such a lovely place where new memories are being made.