In bed—(there’s always an excuse for the poor writing). This has been an interesting and exciting day. We took the first steamer—10:00 a.m.—up the lake to Ambleside. There we took a bus to Grasmere. We walked in the village, Wordsworth grave, etc. Ruth, I remember you telling about it. It was a sweet and lovely place. Then we walked to Dove Cottage—we went through the museum first, and then through Dove Cottage.
The town of Grasmere is perhaps best known as the home of the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth, who came to live in Dove Cottage in 1799 with his sister. K took this picture of the cottage.
By that time it was 1 o’clock and they put us out. We walked back to the village and had a simple lunch at a sort of cafeteria—carried our food outdoors, right across the stream from the church (Ulsmere’s) and the graveyard.
I’m pretty sure they ate at the Grasmere Tea Gardens, whose logo says the restaurant was established in 1889. They have an outdoor terrace across the stream from the church and graveyard.
Photo Source: Tripadvisor
Then we took a bus back to Ambleside—and found directions for Hawkshead and Sawrey. At Hawkshead we saw Dame Tyson’s cottage where Wordsworth had stayed when he was in school—and the school he had attended—and carved his name on the desk.
The bus ended at Hawkshead, and the bus driver had said we could walk to Near Sawrey and get a bus back. We had but an hour if we made the bus that would get us to the last steamer, so we were afraid to risk walking, which was wise! We walked to a garage—(no taxis)—and asked if we could get someone to drive us. (All of this to see Beatrix Potter’s home—writer of “Peter Rabbit” and other children’s books.) A man drove us—and it was several miles—for four shillings (56c). We had time to see the house and its contents. There were many of the original drawings for her books. Also some tiny figures of the characters. A doll house was interesting, as well as seeing in the illustrations some of the furniture in the house.
Hill Top is the former home and garden of author and illustrator Beatrix Potter. Here’s a brief tour of the house and some of its highlights from a couple of British travel bloggers.
The bus back to Ambleside stopped almost in front of the drive to the house. It came along in a few minutes, and we were soon at the pier where a steamer was unloading—and in another few minutes we were on the way for the half hour’s ride down the lake to Bowness, where the hotel is. We thought we hade made wonderful connections—starting out as we did—playing it by ear as we went along. We saw the things we started out to see. It was fun being on the various buses—people were surely helpful—the scenery was lovely. Again, we had no rain. This morning the skies looked a bit threatening. It was warm, but not a bright day. We surely have been lucky with the weather.
Here’s a link to a webcam near Bowness looking up toward Ambleside. You can see steamers and other boats coming and going. And here’s the Swan, one of the steamers that would have been running between Ambleside and Bowness at this time.
This morning, before breakfast, I walked out into the garden. On my way I chatted with a woman—first about weather—then “Where are you from?” etc. She lives in Florida, but used to live in Penna. Where? Suburban Philadelphia. “I have a sister in Swarthmore.” “I lived in Lansdowne.” “My niece married a boy from Lansdowne.” “What name?” “Hoopes.” “I know Pearl Hoopes—we were all Presbyterians—when I was there three years ago we went to a party out in Swarthmore—I’ve known her for years. Mr. Hoopes was such a fine person too.” Etc., etc., etc. Her name was Mary Elma Brook.
It was fun to read this. K’s sister in Swarthmore was my grandmother Ruth, and her niece, Ruth’s daughter Bobbie, was my mother. The boy from Lansdowne, Ray Hoopes, was my father, and his mother Pearl was my grandmother. My grandfather Hoopes had died in 1945, and was well-esteemed in his community, so it was nice to hear that nearly 20 years later he was remembered so well.
I located Mary Elma Brooke in the 1950 census, and it looks like she lived less than half a mile from my grandmother Hoopes’s house, with both of them within walking distance of the First Presbyterian Church in Lansdowne. According to an obituary I found, she died in 1973 in Florida, not far from where Katharine lived the later years of her life. What a small world!
Enough—Bertha is asleep. This is the third Friday she has forgotten it was Friday. The first one she had one bite of bacon—the second, half the serving. This morning she didn’t remember it was Friday until the middle of the day! I’m sure I can’t remember the day’s names—but it makes little difference to me. We’ve had several good laughs about hers.
Late Saturday p.m.—Aug. 3.
We have had a day—we left on a train from Windermere at 9:25 a.m. Some time after 12 we changed trains at Crewe. In the very few minutes in the station we bought sandwiches and an orange drink from a vendor and ate them on the train. Probably hunger helped, but they were very good sandwiches.
Here’s a view of Crewe station—a major junction in the UK railway system—from the 1960s.
At about 3:00 we arrived in Birmingham—had to change stations. It is such an industrial place—dirty, many West Indians, etc. Even the white people seemed to look different—not nearly as high class as most we had seen. That we thought was all the changes we had to make but as we went through the gate the guard said “Change at Haddon.”
Our porter in Birmingham was a woman—a real accent. We were on that train but a few minutes and had to get off to change to the one for Stratford—which we were on about 15 minutes!
Although women took many roles on the railway during World War II, most of them were dismissed to make way for men returning from war. It would have been somewhat unusual to have a female porter.
In Birmingham we met a young American man who was travelling on his own. He took the same trains we did and he is staying at the same hotel, and we saw him at the play.
All of this was to stop here to see a play—which we did. We arrived at the hotel about 5:30 p.m. The play was at 7:30. We washed our faces, changed clothes, put on our gloves, and called ourselves ready!
The play was The Tempest. The acoustics were good, but missed a good many lines because I could not understand them. There was an intermission, otherwise no stopping. The use of lights changed the scenes. There were some unusual little businesses which were very clever—the comedy was good—but I had never seen any Shakespeare done in such a manner as it was. It was interesting to have seen a Shakespeare play done here—but I think I’m satisfied now.
This hotel, The Shakespeare, was built—so they say—a hundred years before Shakespeare’s time. It has beamed ceilings, etc. etc. Very clean. The bed—I’m in it—is comfortable.
The Shakespeare Hotel was formerly three separate timber-framed buildings from the 16th century. It appears to be still in operation, although it is (as of April 2025) closed for renovations.
It is late—morning comes soon—think I’ll turn out the lights.
I love you— Katharine
Oh yes, and it rained—a drizzle, then harder. But for us it did not bother too much.
