England

Spa break in England

JANINE JORGENSEN — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 14:09:00 GMT

They’ve done such a good job with Hartwell House that three months ago the National Trust declared the land and property inalienable, meaning it can never be sold or developed.

“What’s lovely about it is that it’s a historic house that feels homely,” says Henry, the head porter who plays a large part in Hartwell’s warm welcome, gifted with a mannered kindliness that perfectly befits the setting.

He guides me to my room then points me in the direction of the spa, where I get a similarly cosy reception from the hot tub and pool surrounded by terracotta walls and elegant marble statues. By the time my friend arrives two hours later I’m ensconced on the Great Hall sofa, and feeling like I’ve been there for weeks.

The middle of a recession might not seem like the best time to be splashing out on a spa retreat, but if ever there was a time to pamper yourself it’s January and, with long nights and temperatures to justify roaring fires, country houses like Hartwell come into their own.

Besides, it’s hard to worry about money when you’re so far removed from reality — in a world of Gothic staircases, wood-panelled bars and softly lit rooms filled with antique furniture.

Making courtiers of Louis XVIII, we take a turn through the library (where in 1814 the exiled king signed a document confirming his accession to the French throne) and drawing room to settle in the morning room for a pre-dinner drink.

“What’s so lovely about Hartwell is the tranquillity, because you’re surrounded by 90 acres of garden,” says Jonathan Thompson, the director and general manager, who joins us briefly.

After a four-course dinner — every bite a treat — we take coffee by the fire of the Great Hall and make plans to explore the grounds the next day.

First things first, though. There’s little point splashing out on a night at a spa hotel if you don’t spend time in the spa. At Hartwell you can book in for a range of massages and complementary therapies as well as beauty treatments from Clarins and Espa.

Or you can simply lounge by the pool, gazing out the terraced windows as you make the difficult choice between the steam room and whirlpool.

After lunch at the Spa Bar and Buttery, we take the opportunity to get out into the rolling parkland that acts like a protective buffer from the rest of Buckinghamshire. Paths crisscross the grounds, leading to a disused church, past the odd 18th-century statue and obelisk and over the stone bridge that spans a lake. It’s probably a little cold for Mr Darcy to be taking a dip — but in these surroundings it’s hard not to hope.

“Have you managed to get a feel for it?” asks Henry on our return.

“Yes,” I reply. “I don’t want to go.” He laughs slightly nervously and calls us a taxi. Sadly, it arrives too soon for us to invent an excuse to stay longer at Hartwell — a spa retreat that more than lives up to its promise of escape.

Country Living

Avoid cancelling out the benefits of a spa break on a long, stressful journey home by staying close to London. Here are some more country house spa hotels within two hours of the capital.

The Grove

Be on that massage table faster than you normally make it to work. Just 20 minutes by train from London Euston, The Grove mixes country house with contemporary decor — or ‘groovy grand’, as they like to call it.

Cliveden

At grand stately Cliveden set in the heart of rural Berkshire, you’ll find the spa hidden away inside an elegant walled garden. Previous guests include Charlie Chaplin, Winston Churchill and President Roosevelt.

Danesfield House

Danesfield House, backed by the Chilterns and overlooking the Thames, boasts its own ghost — the Grey Lady of Danesfield Park. Soothe away your fears at the hotel’s luxury spa.

Jorvik Viking Festival

DANIEL LANDON — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 16:18:00 GMT

What: Jorvik Viking Festival

Where: York, England

When: February 18–22

Experience the 11th century Viking invasions of England with full-scale re-enactments of battles, story telling and lots of other fantastic Norse stuff.

See: www.jorvik-viking-centre.co.uk

A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols

DANIEL LANDON — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 15:01:00 GMT

What: A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols

Where: King’s College, Cambridge

When: December 24

Held annually at the King’s College Chapel on Christmas Eve, this event has become one of the most famous carol services in the world.

It began in 1918, and has been broadcast by the BBC every year since 1928 (except in 1930), taking it into homes right around the globe. If you’ve ever heard your grandparents listening to a carol service on the radio around Christmas time, or playing a CD (or record) of some carol service, then it was probably this one.

Entry is free of charge to the public. The event begins at 3pm, but such is its popularity you’ll need to be in the queue by 9am at the latest.

Queuing early might seem like an ordeal, but to see and hear first-hand the sheer majesty of the Choir of King’s College, in the beautiful chapel, and to join the congregation in singing a hymn or two, will be an unforgettable memory of your time in the UK.

In case you’re wondering: the ‘lessons’ are nine short biblical readings about the birth of Jesus.

See www.kings.cam.ac.uk

Manchester snow dome

Jahn Vannisselroy — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 14:02:00 GMT

“We wanted that lovely wow-factor,” he says, sipping a cappuccino against a snowy backdrop. “What we were looking for was authenticity.”

Chill Factore sucks you in from the grim outdoors and deposits you into a cosy Alpine village, which stills smells faintly of its pine furnishings. A stone-paved street of cafés (including Boost Juice and Gloria Jean’s), snow gear shops and stalls selling sweets like a miniature Christmas market, leads to a 10m climbing wall or upstairs to a selection of restaurants and bars.

Here you can grab a tasty crêpe in The Mont Blanc, enjoy a slap-up meal in The Eiger or indulge in some après-ski in Chilli’s Bar — all with panoramic views of the slopes.

Which brings us to the raison d’être of Chill Factore. The Alpine village is all well and good, but it’s a side dish to the main event — the skiing and snowboarding.

Walking from the changing area to the ski slopes, the temperature plummets to below zero — a cold blast hits just like it does when you leave a mountain restaurant. At this point beginners turn left to the nursery slope and the more experienced head right to a longer piste flanked by two drag lifts.

“We didn’t want to be like Piccadilly Circus,” Moore says, explaining the decision to separate the two runs. “We’ve had top class French skiers ask us how we manage to get the feel of being in the Alps and the answer is the expanse. We’ve spread the slopes out so you get a lovely feeling of space.”

The absence of more expert skiers and snowboarders hurtling down the slopes probably makes things less intimidating for learners, too. The beginners’ area certainly seems like a calm place to be as first-time snowboarders practise their turns with one of Chill Factore’s fully qualified instructors.

Another, Adam, leads us to the main slope to show us the ropes. It doesn’t take long. Midweek, during the day, there’s no queue, so we simply pick a drag lift, go up and come back down. It might be the largest indoor slope in the country but after my second run I’m beginning to wonder how Adam, having done several seasons in various ski resorts, has lasted a year here without getting bored.

Perhaps by lulling you into a false sense of the Alps, Chill Factore pitches your expectations a little too high. But as soon as I remember that a snow dome is never going to offer the thrills and spills of, say, Chamonix, I enjoy it a whole lot more. After all, I’m snowboarding. In Manchester. On real snow.

The white stuff is another of Chill Factore’s selling points, impressing even the British ski team. Each night the temperature is reduced to -6˚C so water particles, pumped from snow guns, freeze and fall as snow. If you get there first thing in the morning there’s fresh powder, and even later in the day you get a soft landing, which is helpful if you want to hit the slope’s permanent rail or kicker. If you’re into your freestyle, the time to come is Saturday night when the main slope is transformed into a snow park.

Less of a challenge, but equally fun, is the 60m luge. Inspired by the Cresta Run in St Moritz, it’s like a frozen water flume sliced in half to give you the added thrill of thinking you might fly out of the slide at any moment.

Next door to this is tubing — sliding down an icy slope on a rubber ring (above). It sounds tame, but take up the offer of being launched off, spinning in circles, and you’ll soon learn how far screams reverberate round a snow dome.

As we leave we bump into Peter, fresh from a meeting about turning Chill Factore into a Christmas wonderland. (There’s talk of a Santa’s Grotto, thousands of fairy lights, and polar bears glowing from within. “The word I’m looking for is enchantment,” he says, ending in a whisper.)

Our cheeks are rosy red from the chilled air. “You look like you’ve just spent a day in the mountains,” he says. And give or take a few kilometres of piste, it really feels like we have.

While you’re there take in …

The nightlife

The Madchester days might be long gone but Manchester still leaves night owls spoilt for choice. Take your pick from the cavernous bars of Deansgate Locks, the quirky clubs of the Northern Quarter, and the more high-brow offerings at arts hub The Lowry. For more information see www.visitmanchester.com.

Trafford Centre

A place of worship for devoted shoppers everywhere, the fifth largest shopping centre in the UK is a snowball’s throw away from Chill Factore. Fans of Gok Wan will recognise the interior as the setting for the catwalk in the TV show How To Look Good Naked.

Old Trafford

Nicknamed the Theatre of Dreams, the home ground of Manchester United FC is open daily for stadium tours. Visit the dressing room, walk down the player’s tunnel and stand in Alex Ferguson’s spot in the dug out.

Darlington Winter Wonderland

DANIEL LANDON — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 16:01:00 GMT

What: Darlington Winter Wonderland

Where: Darlington, in county Durham

When: December 11-15

If you fancy checking out a ye olde Christmas market but can’t be stuffed going to Nuremberg or Bruges then Darlington could be the answer.

Bring on the roasted chestnuts, Christmas trees, mulled wine, mince pies, carol singing and fairground rides.

See www.darlington.gov.uk

Windsor Castle

Kim — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 17:51:24 GMT

To avoid the huge ticket queues at Windsor Castle buy your tickets online in advance (the price includes booking fee), but if you are heading there by train, use South West Trains from Waterloo and ask for the Windsor Castle deal. Not only do you get your tickets in advance, but you save £2.80 in the process.

Surfing in Bournemouth

JANINE JORGENSEN — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 13:33:00 GMT

But it’s not just wetsuit-wearing gnarly dudes who will benefit from the construction of this £1.4 million venture. By putting Bournemouth, or more specifically, Boscombe beach, on the surfing map, it’s hoped a lot of businesses will flood into the area. Stacks of new shops, hotels, surf schools and restaurants should pop up along the sea front and redeveloped pier, creating fun for everyone on the south coast, whether you’re splashing in the surf or flashing cash in a boutique hotel or funky cafe.

Marine life will also score as the man-made structure will provide more habitats for various species to thrive in the ocean — as seen in the artificial reefs of Australia and New Zealand.

The materials used to build the reef are ecologically sound, unlike the environmentally disastrous tyres used in the reef off the coast of Florida. Bournemouth’s reef has been constructed using about 55 huge sausage-shaped geo-textile bags sourced from Australia, which have been pumped with up to 2500 tonnes of sand. These were placed on top of a giant ‘spider’s web’ base shipped from New Zealand. Beneath this sits an enormous mat preventing the whole get-up from disappearing into the sea floor.

Historically, Bournemouth attracted families on holiday and the blue-rinse brigade (it wasn’t called God’s waiting room for nothing). However, over the last decade, with the increase in the number of bars and clubs in the town, partygoers from all over the country, and even further afield, have descended on the coast.

Now, the reef will build on Britain’s third largest surfing community and attract tourists of a different, more adrenaline-loving ilk, who previously would have headed to Cornwall or Devon to get their rush.

There are only currently 77 good surfing days a year in Bournemouth, though the local surfers are so keen to get in the water they don their boardies for 153 days of the year — that’s a lot of bobbing up and down waiting for a good break. With the finished reef, the number of good surfing days is set to double, as is the height of the waves.

The reef is built so the swell will come in all different shapes and sizes — from small and hollow, to steep or Malibu-style. It mimics the effects of its natural counterpart, creating a sea-bed profile that ‘bigs up’ the wave energy. The reef doesn’t create the surf — it isn’t a wave machine in a popular resort swimming pool — it simply enhances it. If the sea is calm and flat the reef will have no effect at all, but if there’s a 1m swell, a 2m wave is produced, resulting in a longer, more exciting ride.

Before the reef was built, the surf conditions at Boscombe meant short rides, which left surfers yawning and unsatisfied, and saw them heading home to watch Point Break instead.

So, if you don’t want your autumn to be a total wipeout, head to Boscombe for some seriously awesome water sports, and all the extras that come with it.

Will Kay, resident of the aptly named Boscombe apartment block The Reef, can’t wait. “This reef has been a long time coming and I can’t wait for the waves and babes to arrive on my doorstep.”

Other nearby attractions

Not feeling the wave energy? No probs, there’s plenty more to do in and around Bournemouth besides surfing.

Oceanarium
Just because you’re not in the water, doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the ocean. This aquarium houses turtles, stingrays, sharks and Nemos. Sorry, we mean clownfish. See www.oceanarium.co.uk.

Monkey World
A trip to this rescue centre is a great day out. Watch the residents — many of them endangered — monkeying around in the 65-acre grounds. See www.monkeyworld.org.

Snowtrax
Zoom down this dry slope on skis, a snowboard, or even a ringo! See www.snowtrax.eu.

Zorbing
Jump inside an enormous plastic ball and roll down a hill for the most unique and exhilarating day. See www.zorbsouth.co.uk.

Bournemouth International Centre (BIC)
In November, gigs and comedy acts are out in force. There are loads to choose from, like The Mighty Boosh, Steve Coogan, Katie Melua, Mcfly and, er, The Lady Boys Of Bangkok. See www.bic.co.uk.

Victorian Festival of Christmas

DANIEL LANDON — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 16:34:00 GMT

What: Victorian Festival of Christmas

Where: Portsmouth, UK

When: November 28-30

With its snow-covered street, seasonal carols, appropriately fattened and bearded Father Christmas, festival shopping and cast of Victorian characters, this popular Yuletide event is sure to get you in the mood for the festive season.

www.christmasfestival.co.uk

Film locations in the Peak District

DAN IMHOFF — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 13:18:00 GMT

The house is an elaborate treasure trove of fine art and opulent architecture, the result of the decadence of dukes past — the Devonshire family being historically one of the richest in England. The gardens are an attraction in their own right, with glorious vistas at every turn and dotted with sculptures. Also worth a visit is the estate’s farm shop, a few miles from the main entrance, which overflows with taste bud-tingling fresh produce.

Knightley is in fact a Chatsworth regular, having also shot scenes for the 2005 film of Jane Austen’s Pride And Prejudice there. As everyone’s favourite heroine Elizabeth Bennet, she shares a “moment” with a veiled statue before encountering a marble bust of her love nemesis, Mr Darcy, played in the movie by Matthew Macfadyen.

If Colin Firth is your only Darcy, however, the definitive Pride And Prejudice screen moment comes as, shirt sodden, he strides towards his manor in the 1995 BBC adaptation. The Beeb scouts deferred to Austen in their search for a location (the novel mentions Elizabeth had already visited Chatsworth before arriving at Pemberley) and plumped instead for Lyme Hall, 20 miles away in Cheshire. The nearby village of Longnor doubled as Lambton.

Speaking of brooding period drama heroes, Toby Stephens set pulses racing as Mr Rochester in the 2006 serialisation of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, filmed at Haddon Hall. Scenes from 1998’s Elizabeth, starring Cate Blanchett as England’s virgin queen, were also shot there, along with the story of Elizabeth’s parents, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, in this year’s big screen version of The Other Boleyn Girl.

Back in Brontë world, Emily’s epic Wuthering Heights has been filmed for ITV using the Dark Peak as a backdrop for the bleak tale of thwarted love.

And if all that talk of literature has left you cold, try this: The League Of Gentlemen’s Royston Vasey is in fact Hadfield village.

High Drama

When?

The Peak District National Park — Britain’s first — was established in 1951. It falls neatly into two areas: the imposing Dark Peak in the north, and the gently rolling White Peak in the south. It’s now visited by an estimated 22 million tourists a year, making it the second most popular national park in the world, after Japan’s Mount Fuji.

Where?

Although the park is chiefly in Derbyshire, it extends into several neighbouring counties. Manchester is the nearest city. The Pennines, a long ridge of mountains known as the backbone of England, rise here and run north to Scotland.

What and why?

The region is special because of the underlying limestone. The Dark Peak sits on millstone grit, creating a rich, peaty ecosystem of steep valleys and moorland plateaus.

The ridges glow purple with heather in summer, contrasting with the bottle green bracken, black forests and parched yellow grass.

In the White Peak the gritstone has worn away to leave each hilltop with a distinctive punk hairdo. This is farming country, lurid green grass criss-crossed by drystone walls as far as the eye can see. Coupled with the dramatic skies and changing light of the temperamental weather, the area’s breathtaking natural beauty is captivating.

Peak atttractions

Buxton

Take the waters and admire the grand architecture in this historic spa town.

Castleton

Get underground to the area’s magnificent limestone caves.

Edale

Set out on the Pennine Way or watch paragliders above Mam Tor from this scenic valley.

Bakewell

Tuck into the famous pudding in this quaint market town.

Stanage Edge

Drink in the awesome view from this gritstone ridge.

Liverpool for Beatles fans

DAN IMHOFF — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 14:05:00 GMT

Cavern club

Credentials: Smack bang in the middle of Beatlesville — otherwise known as Mathew Street in central Liverpool — the Cavern Club opened in 1957 as a jazz venue, but it wasn’t long before serious aficionados were being shoved out of the way by the new amplified exponents of Merseybeat, of which The Beatles soon became the leading lights.

John Lennon and Paul McCartney played at the Cavern in the late ’50s as part of the Quarrymen, and The Beatles graced the stage at the underground club almost 300 times between 1961 and 1963.

It was during a lunchtime session that Brian Epstein saw the Fab Four perform. He signed them, secured them a recording contract, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Re-live it: OK, so today’s Cavern ain’t exactly the same as it was during the Beatles’ reign, but you can still rock out under the same famous arches. The club is now a leading tourist destination and music venue with two stages for live music and a fully equipped bar. You can drop by for a drink during the day or shake it up (baby) to the bands that play here virtually every night.

Details: 10 Mathew Street (0151-236 1965; www.cavernclub.org).

Casbah Coffee Club

Credentials: This basement club out in Merseyside was where the Quarrymen made their debut in 1959, and is otherwise chock full of Beatles history, trivia and memorabilia from yesterday. Owned by former Beatle Pete
Best and his brother Rory, whose mother Mona founded the club, it was the site of many firsts for the Fab Four — way back when they were John, Paul, George and … Pete. They were also, somewhat randomly, involved in the interior design of the club.

Re-live it: The Casbah is now an English Heritage grade II-listed building, due to its historic importance. You’ll need to make an appointment to visit, but the half-hour trip out of the city centre is well worth it, especially if, like me, you get Rory Best as your tour guide. Here you’ll not only see the ceilings Paul McCartney and John Lennon painted, but you can also get up close to the guitars, mics and amps used by the Beatles in those early days.

Details: 8 Haymans Green, West Derby, Merseyside (0151-280 3519; www.casbahcoffeeclub.com). By appointment only.

The Beatles Story

Credentials: This purpose-built museum at Albert Dock has no particular link to The Beatles, which is fine seeing its aim is to recreate the places that do. The Beatles Story goes back to the beginning and charts the journey of four young lads who were propelled into the dizzy heights of worldwide fame. Their story is told on an audio guide narrated by John Lennon’s sister Julia, and begins at Woolton Village Fete where Paul and John first met. From there it’s onto the Casbah before walking down the cobbled streets of Hamburg where The Beatles honed their craft, and heading back to Liverpool. Then we board the Yellow Submarine as it calls in at the legendary Abbey Road Studios in London and steams on to the USA.

Re-live it: Possibly not authentic enough for ultra-serious Beatles fans, but the Beatles Story is a bit of a fun, and a great way to get an overview. There’s also memorabilia galore, including Lennon’s iconic round spectacles.

Details: Britannia Vaults, Albert Dock (0151-709 1963; www.beatlesstory.com). £12.50.

And finally: The same mob who run the Cavern Club also run the daily Magical Mystery Tour of Liverpool, which takes in a whole host of sites including Strawberry Fields and Penny Lane, the real inspiration for the songs, as well as other sites of Beatles mythology.

More of a Stones fan?

Don’t worry, there are plenty of other non-Beatles things to do in Liverpool, especially this year.
» Named as a European Capital of Culture for 2008, Liverpool boasts a jam-packed calendar of events from concerts and exhibitions to performances, theatre and cultural festivals. Liverpool’s distinctive 10,000-seat Echo Arena down at Kings Dock on the River Mersey is always worth a look.
» If football is more your thing don’t miss Anfield Park, home of the mighty Liverpool FC. As in so many towns in England, football is virtually a religion in Liverpool, so be ready to talk about it in the pubs. Diss the mighty Reds at your peril.

Scouse me

Liverpudlians, or Scousers, as they’re commonly known, are renowned for their friendliness, although for the uninitiated it can be hard to make head or tail of what they’re saying because of their strong local accent.
The name comes from a local stew, lobscouse, usually made with lamb, which materialised in Liverpool in the 18th century as a dish for sailors.

Marmite Anybody?

Travel Writing Awards 2008 — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 11:19:40 GMT

Travel Writing Awards Entry

By Natalie Clark

Travelling from ‘The Heart of Europe’ to the home of ‘The London Eye’ takes around seven hours. Two hours through endless fields and grazing cows to Calais for starters; thirty-five minutes of both darkness and blinding lights with a serving of violent shaking through the Euro Tunnel; followed by five hours of tarmac and dotted white lines to wherever one is staying in London to finish.

Arriving at Berkhamsted around 3pm, I was able to witness the town in full swing. I saw three people leaving the post office! Berkhamsted is a pocket-sized parish approximately a twenty minute train journey outside the centre of London. Although seemingly a country village, with countless trees blossoming here, there and everywhere, it is the monstrous shopping centre five minutes down the road that gives the game away. Berkhamsted was to be my place of residence for the three days I stayed in London.

Stepping out of the train into Euston Station is stepping into a parallel universe. An un-nameable feeling washes over you. Excitement, amazement and pure panic. It’s like a bottle neck trying to get through the ticket station and if you do not keep to the set pace – or should I say sprint? – You will be crushed alive.

It’s everyman for himself in the London underground. Floods of people rush past as fast as possible to catch the tube. I strongly believe that it should be classed as one of the major tourist attractions. It is truly spectacular. Ingenious. The oldest and one of the busiest underground railway networks in the world, with over 255 miles of track way. It is a mobile zoo, the passengers caged as it travels, sometimes so crowded that face prints are left upon the windows. A scent of haste, the sound of gasping always fills the cabins. Uncomfortable, cramped but utterly incredible.

Striding out of Oxford Circus Station onto Oxford Street and one can see why it received the name; people strolling around as if they have just finished a performance in a big orange, triangular tent. Art students with their dazzling , coloured hair; dedicated shoppers, performing a juggling act with their bags; and tourists clinging onto their maps, their life support, as they are pulled by the wind. A man, parading along the street with a microphone, enlightening the passers by, cleansing them of their sins, introducing them to God, “The Christian way is the right way,” he protests to an audience of giggles and smirks. The clowns of Oxford Circus.

There is nothing better than Oxford Street. The shops, oh the shops of Oxford Street. If I hadn’t been pushed for time I would have stared at them, soaking in their glory. However, it was a race against time to bag as much of their glory as possible. The cash desk was sweet music to my ears. I became one the clowns of Oxford Circus, performing my own juggling act with my shopping bags.

The city is like marmite – you either love it or hate it. Although home to millions of optimistic, people, full of expectations of a better life, of which they hope to find in London, it is also inhabited by many whose hopes and dreams faded a long time ago. You are reminded of this as you walked past the headquarters of the ‘The Big Issue’ where copies of the magazine are handed out and as bucket loads of citizens scream politely in your ear to buy “BIG ISSUE”. If I had the choice, I would go home with a suitcase full of them.

You would have to be pretty talented to be bored in London. It is drowning in things to do, buildings to see. There’s Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park and Big Ben is slightly hard to miss; the family of bridges - London Bridge, Tower Bridge, and any other bridge that takes to your fancy. If you want to sit down for thirty or so minutes you could take a ride on the London Eye, the out-of-this-world Ferris wheel that allows you to see the whole of London in the comforting environment similar to that of a gold fish bowl. Although, I suppose you would like to sit down after queuing up for two hours straight.

Beautiful and abstract architectural forms create the London skyline. A Kandinsky painting. The Tate modern assists this. Located opposite St. Paul;s Cathedral and next door to Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, ‘Tate Modern’ is a juxtaposition of a name for the building that it publicizes. A browny orange, bricked building, once known as ‘Bankside Power Station’ designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott in 1947. Scott also designed the renowned red telephone box, also seen dotted all over London. The power station was modified by Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron after winning an international architectural competition.

From its title, I imagined the building to be outstandingly innovative and eye catching; however, I consider it to be more of an eye sore. Nevertheless, inside is another story. The light and space created inside leads you to believe you have walked into the future. The ceilings tower above you, dauntingly. You feel small and inadequate but love every second spent there. The floors sparkle as the sun rays melt through the windows to enhance the art pieces inside.

Hollen’s snake like slides, swirl and sliver around all angles and levels of the turbine hall, bringing excitement, entertainment and wonder to every adult and child that gaze upon them; Fischli and Weiss offer mind boggling photographs and eyebrow-raising sculptures; and if all else fails there’s always the gift shop where you can purchase the bright pink ’10 reasons why it’s better to be a women artist’ by the Guerrilla Girls, or the ‘Big Book of Feminist Art’ or any other art book you could possibly ever want. Never judge a book by its cover. I suppose London city is a The Tate Modern on a larger scale – a little shabby on the outside, but remarkable on the inside.

If the Tate Modern doesn’t do it for you, there is always the Tate Britain. It is in complete contrast to the Modern. It is modest in its appearance. Inside is not as magnificent as the Tate Modern, yet it is more welcoming and homely. The decoration is old-fashioned, consisting mainly of dark wood and coloured, fading tiles, yet it stands tall and proud, hosting masterpieces of Britains finest artists, such as the Holbein’s paintings of Henry VIII and his third wife, Jane Seymore.

Cities are like marmite. You either love them or hate them. London is a truly breath of fresh air. Although breathing in London is said to be like smoking twenty cigarettes a day, for me, and thousands of other people, it is ‘the’ place to be. With endless amounts of opportunities to learn or just to enjoy, it will never let you down.
I don’t like Marmite, but I love cities. I am a city-a-holic!

Rolling the barrels: Devon's Pamplona

admin — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 13:18:00 GMT

Travel Writing Awards

By Linda Alley

If you can't pluck up the courage to run with Pamplona's bulls, there is a slightly more controlled thrill to be had in the Devonshire countryside. Burning an effigy of Guy Fawkes is already bizarre enough for many visitors to England, without Ottery St. Mary's own addition to Bonfire Night.
As our host drives us in into Ottery, hibernating in the Autumn haze, we cannot even begin to imagine the frenzied chaos that will descend with the darkness. But Agatha Christie should have taught us that sleepy English villages are never what they seem.
Every year the inside of giant barrels are coated with coal tar, stuffed with paper and straw, and set alight outside the village's main drinking holes. Studying our programme, we see that there are nine lightings throughout the evening. The crowds gather outside the Mason's Arms at half past seven sharp as nervous anticipation mounts. We station ourselves safely in the middle as our host answers our eager questions. What happens once the barrels are lit? Do the carriers really run into the crowds? Has anyone ever been seriously injured?
We strain our necks over the thickening crowd. There is a ripple of movement at the front. A Mexican wave of screaming. Then the people in front of us are screaming. I feel it before I see it – the pressing heat. The stench of burning tar fills my nostrils. I glimpse flames - then the barrel is upon me.
The crowd moves as one body with a thousand legs. Not even the Piccadilly Line in rush hour prepares me for the stampede. I can't breath. Then the barrel changes direction. A gap opens in the crowd. I am reunited with my friends. We stand gasping and laughing on a street corner.
The 'Barrel Roller', equipped with padded mittens resembling oven gloves 'rolls' his barrel onto the back of a waiting companion like a hot potato as the heat intensifies. The dancing ball of fire pierces the night like an ancient beacon. The Rollers move as close to frightened faces as possible. Then pull away and double-back. But this is no organised relay race. There is no planned route. There are no winners or losers. Only chaos.
We grow bolder as the fiery fever infects us. Like moths to a candle, we flit to the front of the crowd. My arm is nearly pulled from my socket as we fight to stay together. Our hardened host merely raises an eyebrow as a barrel passes within inches of his nose.
Between barrel-lightings, we wander around the village fair in St. Saviour's Meadow. Those who can't get enough thrills twist on stomach-churching rides. We prefer to catch our breath by the towering bonfire nearby. The Guy, who we learn has been made by the same family since 1958, is cremated within moments on this miniature volcano.
The origins of the Tar Barrel Carnival are more obscure than Guy Fawkes' Gunpowder Plot. There is a vague consensus that it started in the seventeenth century. Some say it dates back to when barrels began to smoulder while left to fumigate in shops. Others prefer to believe that the tradition Rolling the barrels: Devon's Pamplona – Linda Alley originated as a Pagan ritual to cleanse Ottery St. Mary of evil spirits.
The Barrel Rollers take their jobs seriously and there is little time to talk. To carry a barrel is both an honour and a responsibility, often passed from father to son in families that have called Ottery home for generations. Barrels are specially selected up to twelve months in advance. But what drives this community to continue to revere such a tradition? Perhaps it is simply because no other modern activity gives them the opportunity to share the danger and freedom experienced by their ancestors.
We are astonished to learn that boy's barrels had been lit earlier in the afternoon. These tar barrels are smaller and lighter to suit their younger carriers. These are followed by a round of mediumsized barrels, carried by women. But none of these compare to the Grand Finale.
Just before midnight, the entire village gathers in the Square to await the last and largest barrel. A few lucky locals have coveted safe and spectacular views from rooftops and windows. The crowd gasps. Smoke chokes the Square. The Roller bravely staggers up and down with his 30 kilogram burden. It is not long before he is forced to admit defeat. The midnight barrel falls in a crash of splinters and sparks.
The night's first ambulance flashes through the smoke. Everyone looks ominously around for singed clothes. One lad has had a few too many ciders and is flat on the cobblestones. Panic over, the Square turns into a dance floor.
As we join the parties of revellers meandering home along the country lanes, a full moon lights our way past foggy fields and farms. Smoky, sweaty but exhilarated, we'll certainly remember the fifth of November. The distant thud of music echoes from the Square. Intermittent firework squeal and shower the countryside. If there were ever any evil spirits in Ottery, they have certainly been chased away. And any bulls for that matter.

Cycling the length of Hadrian's Wall

admin — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 10:36:00 GMT

Which is how I came to be on a lay-by outside Carlisle the other week, with rain seeping through the gaps in my helmet.

If Hadrian’s Wall starts anywhere, it’s at Bowness on Solway, west of Carlisle. It’s here that one of the greatest walls of ancient times plunged into the Irish Sea, having straddled the country from east to west in a near-impenetrable barrier.

A journey that would have required an armed escort in Roman times is now ‘pedallable’ in a long weekend thanks to a superbly marked cycle route.

Hadrian’s Cycleway broadly follows the course of the wall, while taking in other sites of interest and local attractions.

The beauty of the trail is that it sticks to quiet country roads, towpaths or specially designated cycle paths. And at every possible decision point a blue arrow with the route number (72) and a stylised Roman helmet points us in the right direction.

As we climb up towards the high country beyond Carlisle, we see signs of border struggles ancient and modern — stumpy watchtowers rise out of wheat fields, old farm houses sit behind walled compounds, and flags bearing St George’s cross flutter in suburban gardens.

While we can’t yet see the actual Roman wall, its shadow is all around us in the solid farmhouses and neat stone walls dividing paddocks — well-trimmed Roman blocks pillaged centuries ago.

Soon enough we’re pedalling alongside a section of the wall that runs up to Birdoswald Roman fort. It’s one of many forts and settlements along the route to have been excavated, offering a real sense of life as it was on the Roman frontier.

A few miles down the road at Vindolanda, archaeological digging is ongoing, and keen visitors can even help out.

As well as the main route, the trail map highlights day trips and diversions. We take one into Northumberland National Park — the badlands to the north of the wall. It’s beautiful, wild country, and wind-whipped sheep eye us suspiciously as a farmer on a four-wheeler putters past, a collie balancing neatly on the rear mudguards.

Over on our right rise the crags — like hills determined to be mountains, the broken shape of the wall silhouetted against the skyline.

We turn back towards them, stopping halfway up a steep climb to gorge ourselves on wild raspberries hanging heavy from the hedgerows.

The second half of the trip is a ride through time. Starting at the magnificent Housesteads Roman fort (where the 2000-year-old flushing toilets are a star attraction), we drop into the Tyne valley with its ruined castles and remnants of border wars between Scotland and England.

Then it’s a glorious riverside race along the banks of the Tyne to the docks of Newcastle, where the steel webs of Victorian bridges give way to the elegant winking eye bridge, built almost 2000 years after Hadrian’s Big Idea.

Soon we’re dipping our toes in the North Sea and planning our next trip. Sunny Italy, perhaps?

The emperor and his wall

When Hadrian became Roman emperor in 117AD, he inherited an empire that covered much of Europe, northern Africa and the Middle East.

But Rome was overstretched, embroiled in everything from an unpopular war in what is now Iraq to skirmishes on the imperial border in northern Britain. So Hadrian set about consolidating power, re-drawing borders and strengthening defences.

Hadrian’s Wall became the empire’s northern border. It regulated trade and acted as a buffer against the Picts to the north. Built from turf and cut stone, it was 6m high in places, and was fortified with 16 forts, 80 milecastles and 160 turrets.

Hadrian: Empire And Conflict, currently showing at the British Museum (www.britishmuseum.org), explores the life, love and legacy of Hadrian, and includes artefacts drawn from 31 museums.

England's best castles

admin — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 14:53:00 GMT

England has an endless number of castles to explore. TNT selects some of the best.

Bamburgh Castle

You’d be hard pressed to find a more dramatic setting for a castle. Sitting astride a basalt crag, overlooking a vast sandy beach, Bamburgh still seems to guard the Northumberland coast from invasion. Originally built by the Normans in the 11th century, the fortress was home to kings and queens for centuries, only to be all but destroyed in 1464 during the War of the Roses. Lord Armstrong fixed it up in the late 19th century and his family has resided there ever since.

Wander through the Armoury, King’s Hall and Faire Chamber, taking in the decorative furniture, suits of armour and paintings by the likes of JMW Turner.

Getting there Trains run from London Kings Cross to Berwick-Upon-Tweed (4 hrs). From here take the 411 or 510 bus. See www.bamburghcastle.com.

While you’re there Stroll along the beach to the cute tea room in Bamburgh village. If you like playing king of the castle, the Northumberland coast is the place. Head south to Warworth and Alnwick Castles or north to Lindisfarne on Holy Island.

Tintagel

If you’ve always believed you could’ve pulled the sword Excalibur from the stone, then a visit to Tintagel (pronounced tin-tajill) is a must.

Set on the dramatic, windswept north-west coast of Cornwall, the castle is the birthplace of Arthurian legend. Thought by some to be King Arthur’s fabled castle Camelot, this magical edifice from the Dark Ages now lies in ruins. Still, it’s the stark beauty of the setting that wins visitors over.

There aren’t any guided tours on offer, but a wander over the cliffs and into the quaint church allows you to enjoy the place’s haunting beauty. After a short trek down to the sea, swim alongside Elephant Rock or explore Merlin’s Cave, apparently the haunt of Arthur’s legendary guru. If you’re quiet enough you may even hear the magician whisper across the ages.

Getting there Trains from London Paddington run to the West Country (4 hrs). Coaches run to Tintagel from Bude and Bodmin Parkway station. Castle opening times depend on the weather, so it’s best to call ahead in winter. See www.english-heritage.org.uk/tintagel.

While you’re there Be enchanted by the old Post Office, enjoy shopping in gorgeous little stores and feast on a Cornish cream tea of scones and clotted cream.

Warwick Castle

First built by William the Conqueror in 1068, this medieval castle looms over Warwick town.

There are archery, falconry and knights-in-armour battle displays, but the real highlight is the castle itself: it’s big, old and impressive as hell.

Descend into the dungeon or climb the narrow spiral staircases to the castle’s parapets. If you gaze over the trees, you can almost imagine an army preparing to lay siege.

Indoors, the baronial Great Hall is loaded with armour and weapons, while the state rooms have been recreated in all the opulence of the castle’s heyday.

Explore the 24 hectares of parkland, especially if you’ve packed a picnic on a sunny day.

Getting there There are trains from London Marylebone to Warwick (1hr 30 mins). From the station, it’s a five-minute walk to the castle. See www.warwick-castle.co.uk.

While you’re there Check out the Tudor tombs at the Church of St Mary in Warwick town.

Leeds Castle

Peacocks roam the grounds, masses of wild flowers are in bloom and in sight is a castle floating on two islands. What sounds like a scene from a fairytale is, in fact, Leeds Castle.
The castle (in Kent, not Leeds) dates from the 12th century and has seen its fair share of royalty through its gate, including King Henry VIII.

The last private owner was an eccentric heiress, who spent most of her life (and fortune) turning the castle into what it is today.

Inside you’ll find Norman cellars, rooms fit for medieval queens and banqueting halls used to entertain celebs and politicians.

Outside there are black swans in the Duckery, exotic parrots in the aviary and a live falconry display. And no fairytale castle would be complete without its own maze.

Getting there National Express offers a combined castle admission and coach fare. Trains leave from London Victoria to Bearsted station (about 1 hr) and from there a shuttle runs to the castle. See www.leeds-castle.com.

While you’re there You’ll need a whole day to explore Leeds Castle, especially if you want to stroll through its vineyard, play a round of golf on its parkland course or take a trip in a hot air balloon.

The ancient city of York

admin — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 11:56:00 GMT

It’s surrounded by miles of Roman walls that are still intact and it’s home to Europe’s oldest shopping street, the largest gothic cathedral in northern Europe and a live archaeological dig that has unearthed an entire Viking village.

York is the closest a British city comes to Rome, where you hardly need to visit a museum because a stroll around the compact city centre yields an endless stream of relics from centuries past.

“History! This place is just steeped in it,” says Julian, my walking tour guide, gesturing to one of the city gates, known as Bootham Bar, where the heads of traitors were hung in medieval times. (In York, a ‘bar’ is a gate and a ‘gate’ is actually a street.)

Not wanting to waste a moment — “There’s just so much to see here” — Julian hurries me on to the next attraction.

We pass the city-centre premises of York University (formerly a palace of King Henry VIII) and head on to the striking remains of Saint Mary’s Abbey, built by the son of William the Conqueror in 1250. The ruin sits in the lovely green Museum Gardens, “where on a sunny day everyone is half naked”, Julian tells me.

Sunday morning shoppers stroll casually past carved Roman coffins at the edge of the park, but there’s no time to linger. It’s off to York Minster, the giant gothic cathedral that dominates the entire city centre. It took 250 years to build and is the most visited cathedral in Britain, with a colossal stained glass window the size of a tennis court. If you’re not claustrophobic, the climb up a narrow staircase to the top of the central tower is well worth it for a cracking view over York and the Yorkshire Moors.

Don’t miss the much less grandiose Holy Trinity Church tucked down an alley off Goodramgate either — more than 5000 bodies are buried in the tiny garden.

Goodramgate leads us on to York’s most famous shopping street, The Shambles, historically home to dozens of butchers, but now lined with charming tea rooms and bakeries. The street is on a slope — designed so that the blood from slaughtered carcasses could drain away.

» Trevor Paddenburg travelled to York with National Express East Coast (08457-225 225; www.nationalexpresseastcoast.com) and Visit York (01904-550099; www.visityork.org)

Out of town

Use York as a base for these sightseeing jaunts …

Yorkshire Moors

Hike in this hauntingly beautiful national park.

Castle Howard

Poke around this spectacular 18th-century country estate.

Scarborough

Get your beach fix at this seaside town.a quick Earl Grey at Betty’s Tea Rooms, one of England’s most famous places for a cuppa. But all too soon my time in York is up and I’m back on the train heading for London, thinking Julian was right when he said you really need a four-day stint to check out charming York properly.

Ghosts and ghouls

York was named the most haunted European city by the International Ghost Research Foundation in 2002. Don’t miss the Ghost Hunt of York guided walk, which gives a spine-tingling look at the city’s macabre past. See www.ghosthunt.co.uk.