A nice brew

It is time to visit some of the quaint customs of Lancashire, and one of their most important rituals is tea - or as they call it here - brew.

As a drinker who prefers tea to coffee I have been looking forward to being in a country where proper respect is paid to tea, rather than the overblown hype that has now permeated the world and turned everyone into an expert on the coffee bean.

I offered to make tea in our farmhouse accommodation on our first day and I was dismayed to find Drew making tea by placing a spoon of tea in a cup and pouring boiling water on top.  He tells me that is how they make a brew here in Lancashire.  It did not even look like real tea leaves, rather more like granules. They leave the tea in the cup which means the drinker must be careful on reaching the end not to swallow a mouthful of tea leaves. In what almost resembles the Japanese tea ceremony the guest goes to great pains to compliment the host on their brew and then there is much discussion concerning the art of brew.

Even the tea bags havre instructions.

I have stuck to my more traditional tea making style.

Another of the domestic arts that prevails in Lancashire is washing and housework.  The urban landscape here is dominated by the terraced two up/two down. Rows and rows of two storied terraced houses which comprise two downstairs rooms and two upstairs rooms - hence the expression.  The front room windows open straight onto the street and the custom is to leave the curtains open, providing every passer-by the opportunity to gawk into the front room.  The Lancashire house-keeper is a proud sole and windows are spotless and the front room is always in meticulous order so as to pass the scrutiny of judgemental neighbours.  There is no privacy.  Even the backyards are open to the world as the fences are low and from the yard at one of the street you can see all the way up the street into every yard.  Coronation Street lives on.  As the washing is hung out back (more on the lack of definite articles, pronouns and prepositions later) for everyone to see it must be sparkling clean, again to pass the examination of the neighbours.

Our farmhouse accommodation is actually on the large size for this area

Bacup terraces 

My favourite Lancashire quirk is the wash trough, a plastic tub that sits in sink and is used for washing dishes. Why?????  Why not just use the sink? Is this a water saving device, or I ventured that perhaps the drainage was old and it was more efficient to throw the water on the garden. We had many theories. Drew ventured to ask one of his aunts to explain the mysteries of the wash trough and she was perplexed by the question. No one had ever questioned the practice before and she took some time to respond that if you did not use the trough you would have to put in the plug and fill up the sink to wash the dishes - an alternative process that she just considered to be nonsensical. 

I have mentioned the Lancashire/Mancurian treatment of the preposition - or as they would say treatment of preposition. It is like txt speak - they minimise everything.  So they go pub, to have pint, and rather than engaging in lengthy greetings on meeting you they will ask you right? To which you should reply, ah, you right? I quite Iike this economy of speech, and indeed when asked one of the locals explained it exactly as that, though in something more like the following words - if use less words can fit more in when speak.  

But enough of the urban world, let's venture into the rural as this part of the Pennines has a lot to offer in bucolic splendour.  

We tend to think of northern England as belching smoke stacks and child labour chimney sweeps - I may have read too much Dickens.  Tom and I have been out walking and enjoying the dales. Or they may have been the moors; is there really any difference? Wind turbines stand majestically on the dales (or moors) and for me they just add to the pastoral palate blending in with the country scene as they spin around making their green and clean energy. 

Why at home are we told that wind turbines will be the end of the farming industry ?  These sheep are entirely non-plussed by these wind turbines

We found hedgerows and walking paths with styles, horse riders, squirrels and abundant wild flowers. Bulbs self naturalise along the paths and roadways and in addition to daffodils and tulips, bluebells add to this vista. You know bluebells - common in Melbourne gardens, not unattractive but nothing to write home about. Or are they !! Have you heard of the Bluebell Black Market ? (Tom, the wag, thinks it should be called the blue market). It is a national scandal - people stealing bluebell bulbs to sell illegally. Bluebells and this nefarious trade made a two page feature in The Telegraph last week, I kid you not. In a recent raid police seized 5000 rare bulbs headed for the illegal trade.  And to think, after the Southern Hemisphere Spring I will do my annual thinning out of the bluebells in my garden and discard the unwanted ones. If I only I had known, I could have bought them with me to help offset some of the costs of this trip. 

On our morning walk we had to scramble up the verge of this lane to allow the Land Rover which was delivering the milk to pass