We were sort of accidental visitors to Bakewell. We'd set off from our pitch just outside the bijou Staffordshire town of Leek intending to take a leisurely scenic Drive along the A5004 from the spa town of Buxton to the "Capital of the High Peak", Chapel en le Frith via Whaley Bridge and from there towards the town of Castleton. This is such a celebrated route that it even has its own Wikipedia page! Sadly, the road was closed so we had to find an alternative route and headed for the ancient town of Castleton via a more direct route. The approach over the peaks past the famous Blue John cavern is spectacular however, and worth doing even if you're not intending to stop.
Which we didn't.
We'd visited Castleton before, and made the steep, steep
climb up to Peveril Castle, the eleventh century fortress which dominates the
town and gives it its name. While I can recommend the view, we weren't really
up for the climb - which is really steep, and it wasn't yet lunchtime so we decided to push on through the Peak District countryside and search out a little pub somewhere. The trouble was, as we made our way though picturesque village after picturesque village, every single village pub we saw appeared to be shut! So much for all day opening...
Eventually we ran out of picturesque little villages and hit the market town of Bakewell. I like puns and wordplay, so any visit to Bakewell brings to mind any number of "Tart" jokes. I won't inflict them on you however*, because not only are they of questionable taste and quality they are also factually inaccurate. You see - whatever Mr Kipling might tell you - there is no such thing as an authentic "Bakewell Tart". The genuine Bakewell Pudding is an entirely
different beast, lacking the sickly sweet icing and layer of strawberry jam
that adorn the version familiar to supermarket shoppers across the land.
Anyway. Unlike the picturesque little villages Bakewell was
most definitely open and veritably
thronged with people. Monday is market day, and the livestock market on the
edge of town was also in full flow. There was no chance of parking anywhere near the centre of town, so we headed
to the main long stay car park, which happens to be right next to the livestock
market. You get there by heading out of town and then sort of coming back on
yourself, which is odd, and makes you think you must have missed the entrance,
but we got there in the end.
To be met by a sign declaring "CAR PARK FULL."
We're not the sort to be put off by that kind of thing,
however, and set off down the long car park access road undeterred. The road
was lined with signs making it clear that parking was prohibited, and with cars
belonging to people who clearly understood that this rule did not apply to
them. Reaching the car park we saw that the "CAR PARK FULL" wasn't
exaggerating - the place was rammed, with cars and livestock trailers as far as
the eye could see. It seemed hopeless, but we learned a long time ago that no
matter how full a car park might appear, there is always somebody just about to
leave and patience is always rewarded. And so it was on this occasion. It took
us less than five minutes to find a car that was just about to vacate its
space, and we wasted no time in taking advantage.
So we allied forth from the car park, the sound of the
livestock market ringing in our ears, to be greeted by Market day in Bakewell.
We approached the town via two bridges which led us towards some large stone
pillars - presumably the symbolic gates of the town welcoming the visitor and
inviting you in, which is a nice touch.
Except on the Monday we were there the market was in full swing, and
somebody with a "Scissors and knives" stall had chosen to adorn these
gateposts with huge yellow plastic signs advertising what I presume to be one
of their top lines.
So, fact we and the hoards of other visitors that day were
greeted with an advert for "Heavy Duty Toenail Pliers! Cuts through the
thickest toenails!" Oh yeah! Stay classy, Bakewell!
We eshewed the delights of toenail pliers, and indeed the delights of the market square altogether really. Don't get me wrong, we like a good market - I'm originally from Doncaster, a town which boasts one of the finest markets in Northern Europe** - but we also quite like breathing, and there were so many people crammed around the stalls I couldn't see how it would be possible to stand near one of them and still have space to inhale.
I did, however, tarry briefly by a rather bare looking stall staffed by some pretty organised, if intentionally shabby, looking teenagers with rather brightly coloured (and on closer inspection, really rather good) skateboards. They represented "Skatewell", a skater run project trying to get a skatepark built in the town. They were articulate and clearly passionate about their cause, and I really do wish them well. I used to skate a bit as a kid, and my wanderings around Bakewell suggest that most of it is ideally suited for water colour painters, but not so much for skateboards - it's a form of transport that doesn't work well with cobblestones.
I liked the Skatewell kids very much indeed - and they underlined something that I've thought for a while. Places like Bakewell are brilliant for forty-something people like me. They're great places for more senior citizens and they are excellent places to be a child. But for teenagers? Nah. I can't imagine being a teenager in Bakewell is all that great. So here's hoping they get their skatepark. They deserve it - not just because there's bugger all to do in Bakewell if you're fourteen, but also because they've got themselves together and organised themselves to make it happen. Like I said, I was impressed.
But I was also hungry. It was lunchtime and as regular readers of this blog will know, lunch is a
serious business and searching for a place to eat it is always a pressing
concern. Did we find anywhere? Why yes
we did. And it was fabulous.
I'll tell you about it next time...
*Oh, alright then, just one. Stolen from Radio 4's excellent
"I'm sorry, I haven't a clue!", "Bakewell Tart - instruction to
be shouted at Nigella Lawson..."
**Actually true. There are a lot of good things about Donny,
although I'll acknowledge that many of them are well hidden...
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