Escapism in England

Escapism in England

Northumberland, England

The stresses and strains of day-to-day University life are often too much to bear, especially in my final year of study.  Newcastle-Upon-Tyne in the North East of England is brimming with students and workers alike, all running around like headless chickens with whatever tasks they have to deal with.  On one miserable, grey, February Friday morning, the ceaseless pressures of work all became too much and I stormed out of Uni and stropped all the way home in complete refusal to do anything more.  I curled into the womb of my bed and whilst safe in the snuggling comfort of my duvet I sank into my own little world, my own place where no one could tell me what to do.  It was just me and my own thoughts.  I thought of how when moving away from my family home I was expecting to feel so much more free and independent, of how I would have control over my own life and of how excited I was at the prospect of my unknown future. But now when it came to the crunch I felt more trapped than ever, and scared about looming decisions that needed to be made, and right then I realised that I was growing up.  Thankfully, I had the relief of my mother visiting as of Saturday, which may not sound like a relief to some people, but unlike with other visitors there was no need to play the host, to constantly please and entertain, I could just take the time to be myself.

Escapism is a mental diversion to relieve depression or stress by means of entertainment or recreation.  Northumberland was the perfect destination, an anonymous environment to escape to, a place where I had no connection with past or present trials and tribulations.  When my mother arrived in the morning I received a long awaited hug and felt a strong sense of comfort, love and familiarity, and I realised how much I had missed her.  We drove north up the coast for some time away from reality and the carnage of the city.  We decided to spend the night in Alnmouth; a small, quiet and peaceful coastal country town – the perfect escape.  It consisted of a single street, lined with quaint black and white Old English houses, two wooden-beamed pubs, a pastel coloured gift shop and an all-organic, all-free-range style convenience store.  With the shop owner’s suggestion we found an invitingly warm and friendly B&B for the night.  With a room, enormous double bed, television and tea set each and our own bathroom for only £50 for the night we were delighted with our cosy find. 

Alnmouth High Street

Desperate for some sea air we left the car in Seahouses and got a bus to an estuary near Holy Island.  With sand beneath our shoes and the sea breeze fiercely rattling our cagoules we were content and made our way back down the shoreline.  To our left the estuary seemed to swirl in every direction, the tide eerily drawing in not with the crash of a wave but with a steady rise in water level.  It made me feel uneasy and I became hypnotised by the suspicious whirl-pooling of the deepening liquid.  On exiting the estuary we noticed the aggressive pounding of the waves that crashed onto the shore, the wind causing the foam to fleck into the air and the crashing water to spray into fountains of white above the dancing waves.  In the distance Holy Island stood in solitude amongst the excitable waters and we trod amongst broken shells, sticky seaweed and dank driftwood, and scrambled over slimy rocks and sweeping sand dunes.  It felt so refreshing to get back to nature and to the sea, somewhere I always felt I belonged, my troubles whipping away with every seabird that swept across the sky.

Halfway through our walk we came to Bamburgh, whose famous towering castle perched naturally on the landscape, a part of the coastline itself.  The sheer rocky edges of the mount hold the fortress high and proud, fascinating and impressive.  We delighted in watching wetsuit-clad surfers scampering from their Volkswagen campervans into the rushing seas, catching a wave and then falling back into the abyss again.  I could picture the pleasure in owning a mobile home, travelling wherever the wind goes, free from commitments and the world at my feet.  The centre of Bamburgh itself is a quintessential English village, dwarfed by the crow-circled turrets of the castle.  It felt medieval and exciting, like no where else I had been and the sense of pleasure in coming across somewhere so charming and mysterious was both relaxing and intriguing, it was good for the soul.  We found a tea room in which we delved into hot beef, onion and gravy baguettes and scones to our hearts’ delight.  We drank countless pots of tea all of course served on top of white doyleys in floral tea cups.

Bamburgh Castle

With satisfied stomachs and a new lease of energy we continued the latter part of the walk.  I relished in this quality time spent with someone so close, who I had spent my whole life going on walks with, this release, this return to innocence felt very special.  With the tide closing in and the sky darkening, we made haste as the water was closing in on the headlands and walkers scurried across the bays so as not to get cut off.  The Farne Islands in the distance watched us and the momentary flashes from the lighthouse reminded us that it was getting late.  Arriving back into Seahouses the sea seemed enchanted with the golden shimmer of the sunset.  We walked through the small harbour where a seal bobbed at the water’s surface, calm and tranquil in contrast to the tumbling waves beyond.  Fishing trawlers and tourist boats were receiving new licks of red and aqua for the upcoming spring and summer seasons.  I loved this spot.  Fishing nets and cages were casually strewn about the pier, buoys and rescue rings decorated this benched quarter and the humble rumble from a boat’s engine provided an ideal anticlimax after the seven mile walk.  The nautical theme continued when we went into The Ship Inn.  This pub contained a roaring log fire and actually seemed like a ship itself, entering it is like stepping into the lower decks, with a plethora of nautical antiques and replicas adorning the walls and hanging from the ceilings.  These include brass telescopes, murky lanterns, wooden barrels, gleaming underwater helmets, heavy lead anchors and even a ship’s steering wheel, and on none of which lay a speck of dust.

Seahouses Harbour

We returned to Alnmouth to relax in our softly furnished rooms, choosing what we would like for breakfast and delving into the unimaginable comfort of the memory foam beds, completely exhausted and drifting into dreams of lighthouses and seagulls.  The next day we packed our bodies to the rafters with a traditional English breakfast then headed west for our second walk.  We arrived at Hadrian’s Wall and clambered up and down its grassy, rocky ruins, imagining the marching Roman military on one side and the Barbarian Scots on the other. The views were sensational; rolling countryside spread to the horizon, and odd glimmers of sunshine fused with the drizzle to cast rainbows that seemed to shoot up from the ground, then disappear just as quickly.  The walk varied through fields to forests, by reservoirs and soggy paths, all with the wall stretching majestically in endless direction.  When we stopped to rest I noticed how quiet it was despite the strong wind and the sheer volume of life.  Numerous types of birds nestled amongst the grass and whooped in the air, and the cattle and the sheep all lived in perfect harmony, happy and unafraid.  The sheep had such clean and fluffy coats, they looked healthy and I shared in their contentment of this sweet country space, wondering if all who get the chance to visit here feel the same sense of release in being somewhere else.

Hadrian's Wall

To conclude our Northumbrian mother-daughter weekend we visited Hexham before I got dropped off back into the real world.  This attractive town with a park at its centre and beautiful architecture did however show signs of city life re-emerging, with an increase in people and in size, and a sly Wetherspoons that had crept into the old cinema building.  A sigh and a goodbye to the weekend and the comfort of my mother’s company delivered me back into Newcastle, and the week-beginning Monday morning rituals hung over the both of us.  All was not lost though, this weekend had given me a chance to take a step back, to take a deep breath and recover, to remember the strong and able person that I am and to take a small journey back into childhood, a safe place without worries, a place where someone else looks after you.  The chance to escape to somewhere completely different, somewhere not even that far away is available to anyone who is willing to explore.  It’s amazing what you can discover just outside your doorstep.