About Me

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here I am in a little cottage that evokes the energies of my ancestral lands - a cottage on the moors of Cornwall, or on the cliff tops of Ireland or Scotland. It has a hearth. I am a hedge witch {of sorts}. I wear upcycled clothes, patchouli oil and Redback boots. I am a gypsy; an eccentric and a mystic [I often live with a foot in two worlds]. I serve my guests, tea from an old silver teapot. I love Vervain, yarrow, chamomile & mint. Star watcher and Moon gazer. story cloth weaver. keeper of family dreams and wishes. good friend and creator of life. herbal tea drinker and potion maker.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

and on to The Peak District

off early this morning from York to our next stop Eyam [pronounce 'EEM'], in the Peak District for two nights...
as we drove, the landscape once again reminded me of home.. the river lowlands of Windsor, where I was born...

then back to reality..

power stations, burning coal.. near Sheffield.
 Being out of the country side, driving on the outskirts of big cities, I come back to earth with a bump. Drivers are rude, discourteous, impatient. just the same as they are at home.
We were in steel country - not nice at all. Very much like Wollongong in NSW.
I know that there are places like this all over the world, but as we drove past, it was like they burst my bubble..

Then through streets, roads, at times highways, criss crossing all over the place. Wrong turns, short words.. through Sheffield which was much like Lithgow near home, then just as quickly as the city had loomed up..

autumn tree lined streets began to appear and then climbing up steep hills..

the Peak District.
 Another breathtakingly beautiful area. Forests of trees that are exotics at home.... and I breathed easily again.. feeling the weight of the modern day lifting from my soul.. and soaking in the green-ness of the Peak district.. it was like the Universe had shown me some ugliness so I could once again enjoy and appreciate the beauty that I am seeing at the moment. Because, truthfully, one could become very blase about it all, as there is so much beauty in the country.
I guess we are all guilty of taking for granted what is on our doorsteps

We arrived in our chosen little village of Eyam,  just after 1pm, so we stopped at a little tea room for lunch [love how they are called  tea rooms and not coffee shops]..

and then up the hill to Silk Cottage [which was part of an old silk mill built in 1735]...this is our home for two nights. SILK COTTAGE

a short stroll around the village to familiarize ourselves with the village,

through the churchyard to buy some milk and yoghurt .. and back up the hill towards the cottage. We got chatting with a local who was pruning his magnolia and he told us that he had been in the village for 30 years. Having moved back because this was where he had traced his family back to the 13th Century. He told us that he was lucky to be here, because his ancestors were actual survivors of the black plague in the 1600's.

then we returned to our own little cottage, just about to put the kettle on for a cup of tea and a knock on the door.

Our neighbour had come to introduce  herself. Cynthia. Asking me where we came from, how long I was here for, and could I please put any bottles that I might have into the village recycling instead of the garbage bin.

The afternoon was special. I met up with a blogging friend Foxy Sue and her husband, for a short two hours. Just sitting with someone who I had only known through blogging, chatting as if we were old friends, made me realize once more, just how important and special online friendships can be.
The two hours went far too quickly, there was so much more that I wanted to say, wanted to talk about, wanted to discuss and wanted to share. As we parted way, hugs all round, she passed me a gift, some scones, jam and butter and a beautiful copy of some of her creative blog work.  And as they drove off, I admit, I felt a sense of loss, but am blessed to at least have met up. much love to you Susan xoxo

and as I sit here, finishing off my blog, village church bells are being rung in the distance... yet another perfect, perfect place to be.

a year later - 2013
I loved the Peak District and in hindsight, wish I had spent more time there.. maybe oneday. It is a rugged area, reminding me of many places in Australia. The most similar that I know of, being the Grampians in Victoria.  I am really enjoying re-reading my blog posts - I am realizing that I did indeed, embark on a very important journey over there and my words really show just what a spiritual journey I had.


  1. So interesting Robyn - many lovely things written about here, but on a sadder note,with Mary Hadfield's story, it makes you wonder how one woman could endure so much grief losing family and loved ones so quickly. I don't know that I'd feel 'spared' being the only one left. Hard times, but all part of the rich history you are enjoying...and yes, I think for every bit of beauty in England there is a underbelly of hard times and harsh industrial reality.
    Thanks for sharing your experiences!x

  2. Your post reminded me of William Blake's lines about "dark Satanic mills" in "England's green and pleasant land."

  3. My son has been staying with us fora few days so not much computer time and now I'm catching up!!
    Those little villages are just so pretty and quaint. There is the ugliness everywhere, just like any country but the beauty of the countryside and the beautiful tea rooms make up for a that a little bit.

  4. Smashing little cottage. I think Rowan did a blog post on this village a few years ago? Makes you wonder how anyone survived doesn't it.