A tribute to trams, and other larks

Perfect though living in Wharfedale is, it’s always fun to explore the neighbouring counties, especially when they have as much to offer as the Derbyshire dales.

With a wedding to attend further south in Kenilworth at 2pm on Easter Monday we decided to make an overnight stop somewhere the night before. (Any excuse for a short break). Mark excelled himself in organising the trip and kept the whereabouts a surprise to add to the fun.
My dear mother out law managed to let the cat out of the bag as we called in bearing Easter eggs on the Sunday morning, but the name Crich (pronounced Cr–eye –ch, as we were later informed by the locals) meant nothing to me, and I certainly wasn’t expecting the surprise I got there.

We arrived at the Crich Tramway Museum and I was excited to find the place teeming with period vehicles, costumes and a terrific atmosphere for their 1940s weekend.
Having been into ‘vintage’ long before it became so popular recently, this was indeed a treat. I was, of course, frustrated that I didn’t have my own 1940s gear to wear; that (kindly loaned to me by Joan Whitaker for our own Grassington 1940s weekends) sadly remained back in the wardrobe at home, which seemed a terrible waste of a great excuse to dress up!

Quite apart from all the ‘enactors’ adding so much activity, we enjoyed exploring the tramshed and looking at all the old trams. I will always have a soft spot for them having spent many happy childhood days travelling from my grandparents house in Cleveleys, up and down the coast to Blackpool and Fleetwood by tram. Needless to say I was thrilled to see a Pleasure Beach liveried tram that was operational in the 1960s among the Crich collection from all over the country. Bet I’ve been on that one, I thought.

Of course Mark and I got to ride on a tram too, riding the length of the line to the Glory Mine terminus. From there we took a brisk one mile walk up to the Crich Memorial, an impressive tower built to commemorate the lives of 1520 Sherwood Foresters who gave their lives in the First World War. The views of the Derwent valley were worth the walk and the climb to the very windy top of the tower.  For a round trip we followed the path down to bring us back to the museum entrance in time for tea and a mooch round the 1940s memorabilia trade stands.

From Crich we headed to nearby Matlock Bath to check in at the Temple Hotel. Perched halfway up the almost vertical hillside, I was taken with the unspoilt Georgian building and the lovely view from our nicely appointed bedroom. Top marks again for Mark who, it seems, was on a roll!

Dinner was a strange affair. Matlock Bath having the feel of a seaside town with fish n chips and amusement arcades we found that the restaurant Mark had in mind unfortunately stopped serving food at 6pm! Instead we were charmed by a cockney proprietor hailing passers-by outside in the European way. He seemed to know his way round gluten-free issues and his promise of poached cod tempted us in. They only sold wine by the litre bottle so I think I did well to manage the walk back up the footpath to the hotel almost directly above an hour or so later.

When we got back we discovered that the hotel bar was actually Matlock’s answer to The Foresters, complete with local colour. We had a very convivial evening and enjoyed playing ‘Shut the Box’with the aid of a larger than life character called Mick. What better way to end a ‘grand day out’.