We've been into town! This was actually a few weeks ago, when we were allowed in the shops again. So, just for a little background, I buy books all the time; like, at least once a week. And I've been paying for delivery from Waterstones for the past year, but I decided that, since the shops are open again, I don't really want to keep paying extra, so I now click and collect from the shop. Why don't I use the library, you ask? Well, because I am a collector, mostly of books, but of some other things as well. I could use the library – I have no aversion to secondhand books – I just don't like giving them back.
So we drove into town, Matthew and I, sans Freya for a change. We always park 'on the roof' of the old market (now a Primark – hmmm), and on this side it looks down on King Street and the Assembly Rooms. Of course, the Assembly Rooms building is Georgian, and it was indeed the venue for balls and, well, assemblies. It's quite small, but so is Lancaster, really. Anyway, you can buy vintage goodies in there now, and also my favourite brand of terribly bright hair dye.
Further down the road is a heartbreaking sight. Lancaster was lucky enough to have two Waterstones branches, but the bigger one (my favourite) closed last year. I'm still very sad about it. I learnt to bind books in that shop when my mum hosted a bookbinding workshop.
But we still have the other, albeit smaller one. Here is the second-best section in the shop. The best section is fantasy and science fiction. Other people may tell you that other sections are the best, but they'd be wrong. Popular science is also next to history, which is great because that's my other favourite. Who doesn't love Prof. Brian Cox? You may wonder why I was even looking in other sections when I'd only gone to collect a book I'd ordered. Well, the reason is obvious – you can't go into a bookshop and not buy a book. I'd already paid for the ordered one, so I needed to buy another. And in fact I bought two more. I ask you though, what am I supposed to do? They sit there, smelling delicious, looking so shiny and seductive. I'm powerless. I have not ever once in my life been able to resist a book that winked at me and asked me to take it home.
Back out in the open, town was busy. I still feel a bit strange being so close to this many people without masks. Matthew just kept his on, but I've not mastered the trick of not getting my glasses steamed up, so I took mine off between shops.
It almost feels like normal in town now. Obviously there are things you have to do like hand sanitising and all of that, and there are perspex screens at all the checkouts, but people are just wandering about as they used to. Of course, you all already know this because you're humans who also live in the world – but I'm just recording these things for posterity. I wonder if we'll actually have learnt anything from all of this in the end.
We decided to buy doorkeys for Matthew and his brothers, which was quite exciting. But the man at Timpson's needed fifteen minutes to do them, so we went for a walk up to the castle.
I'm getting very repetitive in my age, as I always say something like 'can you believe we've got a castle?', and Matthew rolls his eyes and says 'yes, you say that every time'. And he's right, I do. And then I go and stand very close to it and gaze up at its crenellations, all misty-eyed and nostalgic, as if I'm remembering when it was built because I'm a thousand years old. And then I think, nostalgically, about the people who would have built it, and those who would've lived and worked in it. And then I start to think about medieval fashions, and how it's terribly sad that we don't all still dress like they did in any of the centuries gone by ... apart from the last one, maybe.
Look at those machicolations, eh? The crenellations are at the top, where you've got your merlons (your wall bits) and your embrasures (your slits in your wall bits, for observation and firing arrows) and your crenels (your bigger gaps), and then these machicolations at the bottom. These are the gaps through which stuff can be dropped on attackers. There are corbels as well, but I've not quite worked out what they are. And there are arrow slits in the main walls as well, of course, because a castle isn't a castle without them.
But you can't stand stroking a castle all afternoon. So we went off round the other side to have a bit of a sit in the sun. My goodness, it was a lovely day. I not totally sure, but I think this might have been one of those first fine days we had before the weather went all cold and damp again.
This side of the castle isn't as fascinating because it's obviously much younger than some of the other bits. It's not the wall's fault, and older in history isn't necessarily better, but still, a smooth brick wall will never be as interesting as a weathered one.
Perfect spot for picnics, and yet, we've never picnicked here. How silly. We must rectify that soon. It's perfect because it looks over at the castle and up at the Priory.
Which is undergoing some work at the moment. We're not sure what type of work. Maybe it's being sandblasted – it's been very dirty for a long time, probably from decades of car-type pollution. It'll be lovely if the tower emerges from its cocoon all fresh and bright and clean.
Another nice picnic spot. I stood right here once, with James and Matthew when they were very little, and watched the fireworks above our heads. That was my favourite Bonfire Night ever. And they stopped allowing people up to the castle to watch them after that, which was a shame. Now we watch them from the field below the castle, where I used to get drunk with my buddies in the glorious '90s. Ahhh, them were t'days!
If you're from round these parts, you'll be aware of this excellent graffiti that was done at the time of the Black Lives Matter protests in the summer of 2020. This is on the Rawlinson monument next to the Priory. What some of you may not know is that I am a Rawlinson. And if you're ever asked – you know, just in conversation – what today's Rawlinsons think of it, I can tell you categorically that I, as a Rawlinson, wholeheartedly approve of this graffiti. It is right and proper that it should be here to tell the truth of part of the history of Lancaster, and I hope it is never removed.
Moving on, this was another spot where I used to get drunk with my pals in the goddam gorgeous '90s. Oh my goodness, they really were good times. Nothing astonishing or important ever happened, other than people falling in and out of love, a lot, and all of that stuff that we sang along to when Britpop was the best thing ever, but I know we all had the best time for those few years.
We walked back down to collect our new keys through one of the most Georgian bits of town. What I wouldn't give for a four-storey house with sash windows. But since they certainly cost more than everything I own, what I would give is immaterial.
And that was that. Jaunts into town used to be a regular Saturday afternoon thing for me and the boys. Whenever we couldn't be bothered to think of something fun to do, we'd pop into town for a window shop and maybe a little treat from the toy shop. It's interesting now that going into town is such a novelty that it gets its own blog post.
Until next time, ye rapscallions,
Linda + Matthew
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