Holiday Diary Part Two

From my journal, written in the holiday cottage in Chatton 

Sunday 26^th October 2025

Via Chillingham to Edlingham to visit:  the church founded 700ish; the castle, which is actually a 13th century fortified manor house; and look at a 19^th century railway viaduct.  Of the three only the church remains in use.  Absolutely fascinating.   

Timeless and changing over time as people and their needs changed.   

Then circuitously to Seahouses for lunch in the Neptune fish and chip restaurant where they turned the music down for us.  A little shopping then back via Bamburgh, Budle Bay and Belford.  Wonderful wide views.  I love this countryside, the only place that might be more beautiful than the Towy Valley.

Mid-afternoon I walked to the metal bridge on the road to Chillingham.  The sheep were being noisy but I couldn’t see why.  Walking back I noticed, in the hedge, a sort of style and an overgrown wooden signpost “Chatton ¼ mile”.  I’d seen a footpath sign by the church so assumed that was where it went.  I walked over the field and saw yet another covey of partridges.  We’ve seen a lot of pheasants and partridges on this trip (and gladly little roadkill).  The church was still open; I sat and thought for a while before coming back.

Monday 27^th October 2025

What I thought in the church was that I was walking alone, as I always have.   

Except for a little while with Henffriend when we were children on the farm.   

And with Phil.  

Crossing that field felt so much like wandering the fields around Manordeilo and down the river when I was a child and before I left home.  

The cat that walks alone.  That’s me.   

“Why me?” I thought.  Then thought about my life now.   

Why is it like this?  Don’t I deserve so much better than this?  

I have family, friends and a husband and children.  

But in almost everything I am alone.

To be honest for some things I don’t really mind.  

I can do things my way without interference or worrying about what somebody else might think.   

And it gives me time to think.  

Possibly too much.   

I can do that lying in bed awake in the dark because I can’t sleep.  I drop off and wake up a few hours later.  Then drop off again when it starts to get light.  

What am I?  A bloody nightwatchman?

This village could be a Northumbrian version of St Mary Mead (it even has some 1950s council houses by the bus stop)

At Bedtime

Went for a walk to the stone bridge this afternoon, but it is too narrow with too much traffic to stand on and look at the river.  Came back into Chatton via The Old Road which led past the village hall (ex-school) and way to the church.  The dead grey squirrel is still there in the churchyard.  I think it may have eaten yew berries as there is a row of tall yews all in berry along the churchyard wall.  Nothing has scavenged it.  Saw a sparrowhawk trying to catch roosting collared doves.  It flew into a fir tree and four starburst out of it.

To Alnwick on the bus today.  I’m enchanted and enthralled by the landscape around here.   The Autumn colours add to the magic.

We’ve watched Pointless, Only Connect and Call My Bluff together.  And both local news programmes, with Ferretfingers who fell asleep because he stayed awake so late last night.

Here endeth the holiday diary as I started reading Victoria Hislop’s The Figurine, followed by 

Mary Stewart’s Rose Cottage and Libby Purves’ Casting Off.  The last one I picked up in a charity shop thinking it was about knitting; it isn’t but it made me laugh so I’ve passed it on to Mrs Leftfoot.