Is There Room For A Travelling Bath?

Travelling light, as I've said before, is always difficult, especially when you're heading off in an ancient campervan with limited space. Fortunately campervans, like caravans, are well designed so possessions can be stowed away in the smallest nooks and crannies, but it made me wonder how our ancestors managed when they went trekking across the world - often in great style and comfort.

Back in 1908 Constance Larymore wrote A Resident's Wife in Nigeria, detailing her life in Africa during the Edwardian era. It's packed with advice and includes a chapter on camping, although her experience was a little different to our holiday.

For a start she and her husband appear to have had an army of native servants and 'carriers' to care for them. Secondly they refused to drop their standards: not for them the cheap, plastic mugs, beakers and plates that we used. No, their china crockery included a teapot, milk jug and sugar basin, and they took glass tumblers and and sparklet bottles.

It would be unfair to say they took everything but the kitchen sink (we beat them there since the campervan has its own dear little sink and a water tank) but I am most envious of their tin travelling bath, with cover and strap, containing a wicker lining. I have tried and failed to discover what this was like. Was it a slipper bath? Or just a plain one, similar to those used by poorer folk? And did the wicker lining remain inside when you filled it with water, and if so did it leave marks on your skin while you sat there? Fortunately modern camp sites have excellent showers (the one at Bardsea was very luxurious, with underfloor heating) but a travelling bath sounds so intriguing.

Constance or, to be more precise, her servants, cooked on an open fire but the campervan is fitted with a small cooker (two rings, a grill and an oven with two settings - on or off) which is a definite advantage on camping Edwardian style, even though I used boxes and boxes of matches trying to light it, and for several days (until I got the hang of using it) our food was either burnt or almost raw.

Talking of food, according to Constance 'there is excellent bush-fowl and guinea-fowl shooting to be had' while villages can usually supply sheep and fowls, and she assures us that a mincing machine is 'indispensable' for dealing with meat which is to be eaten only an hour or so after it has been killed. Luckily there are plenty of shops within easy reach of our stopping paces so The Man of the House (unlike me he is a carnivore) was not required to hunt for sustenance.

Fresh eggs, maize, yams, sweet potatoes, fruit and guinea-corn were available from Nigerian villagers but, like us, the Larymores carried food supplies with them: sugar, tea, coffee, milk, jam and biscuits were as essential 100 years ago as they are today. Kerosene and candles were unecessarysince we have Calor gas and an electrical hook-up, and we passed on the lard, flour and baking powder - but the case of whisky sounds attractive, if somewhat heavy and probably prone to breakages. However, we did have a bottle of champagne (a gift, I hasten to add, and not our usual tipple, but very nice indeed, even though we drank it from our plastic beakers, and I doubt Constance would have approved).

Lacking a campervan, she and her husband travelled with two regulation officer's tents, each weighing 80lb - one for eating and daily living, the other for sleeping. They also took two canvas chairs, two armchairs, a table and their clothing was packed into tin uniform boxes, unlike our lightweight, soft canvas bags.

Surprisingly, perhaps, much of her advice still holds good. She recommends carrying stores in specially made wooden boxes, stressing:“It is no use having them larger, as you will only have to leave them half empty, on account of the weight, and things will tumble about and bottles get broken." Despite the cunningly designed storge space in our campervan, The Man of the House was constantly worried about weight and I ended up stuffing tea towels into the gaps between pots, pans, bottles and jars, to stop them rattling about.

She recommends a folding Panama hat, not too dissimilar to my brimmed crochet hat which keeps off both sun and rain at bay and can be scrunched up and stuffed into a bag. And while Constance wiled away her spare time with stitching and sketching I took some crochet and a lengthy Susan Howatch book.

We didn't follow her advice about placing all our clothing for the following day under our pillows each night to keep them dry and easily found. But we agreed with her that when things don't go according to plan, and you're tired, or cold 'a kettle can be boiled in a few minutes... and a cup of tea will make a wonderful difference'.

Back from Barrovia!

We have been on a Barrovian holiday, which sounds very exotic – like a little known Baltic nation, or one of those strange states that were once part of Russia. Or perhaps it could be a literary landscape providing inspiration for the kingdom of Barrovia which, in my imagination, resembles Anthony Hope’s Ruritania, with heroes and villains performing deeds of derring-do and beautiful maidens embroiled in romantic intrigue.

The reality is a little different: we went to Barrow-in-Furness, birthplace of The Man of the House who is, like all things which hail from the town, a Barrovian. That may sound dull, but the Furness Peninsula is as isolated and mysterious as any far-flung country or fictional realm. Jutting out into the Irish Sea on the very edge of the northern side of Morecambe Bay, it’s surrounded by water on three sides, while on the fourth the mountains of the Lake District form a barrier.

We took the campervan (our longest trip so far, in distance and time), staying for three days at Bardsea, and four at South Walney, and The Daughters joined us for a few days. The Bardsea site, set in an old quarry with its sides covered in trees and shrubs, was within walking distance of Ulverston but we were lazy and caught the bus into town (although we have walked in the past). Stan Laurel, one half of comedy duo Laurel and Hardy, was born here (in those days he was Arthur Stanley Jefferson) and the town boasts a statue of the pair, as well as a Laurel and Hardy Museum. Created by fan Bill Cubin it started with just a few photos and scrapbooks but grew and grew. Since Bill’s death his family still run the museum, but it has moved to a new home on the stage of the old Roxy Cinema complex.

We read about Stan’s early life. Born into a theatrical family he joined Fred Karno’s band of travelling performers, understudied Charlie Chaplin and went to America where, eventually, he teamed up with Oliver Hardy and became a legednd – but he always maintained his links with Ulverston. Best of all, we sat in the 15-seater ‘cinema’ and laughed uproariously at Tit for Tat, in which Laurel and Hardy open an electrical store and get involved in a dispute with the neighbouring grocer, played by Charlie Hall, whose birthday it was on the day of our visit.

The new museum is lovely, and there is certainly more room, but somehow I preferred the old one, housed in an alley off one of the main streets – it was more atmospheric, and I loved the way the walls and even the ceiling were covered with photographs, pictures and other exhibits, and the way visitors squashed into the smallest cinema I’ve ever seen to watch their idols’classic films.

Ulverston’s other claim to fame is its ‘inland lighthouse’, which stands at the top of Hoad Hill and is visible for miles around. Built to look like the Eddystone Lighthouse, it's 100 feet high and is a memorial to Sir John Barrow, another native of Ulverston, who became second secretary of the Admiralty, was famed for supporting voyages of exploration and scientific discovery, was a founder member of the Royal Geographic Society, and wrote biographies and a history of Arctic exploration.

Every time we visit Barrow we plan to walk up Hoad Hill, take a close look at the memorial and maybe even clamber up the 100 steps inside, if it is open. However, we always decide we’re too old, or too unfit, or the weather is too cold, too wet or too windy (please note, it's never too hot in the Furness Peninsula), or we just don’t have the time. Perhaps we'll muster up the energy one of these days.

Another place we’ve never got round to visiting is Druid’s Circle, a prehistoric stone circle at Birkrigg Common, close to Bardsea village, but there’s always next year. Bardsea itself is only small, but it has a beautiful woodland country park and right next door, growing in a narrow strip along the very edge of the shore is the amazing Sea Wood, with records dating back to the 16th century (which means it is officially classed as ‘ancient’). It is believed that the area was once owned by the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey, the Nine Day Queen; timber was felled to supply the shipyard at Ulverston, and in addition there was a copper mine here.

Today it’s managed by the Woodland Trust and its position, soil and plants have made it a Site of Special Scientific Interest, ensuring protection, despite the busy main road which runs alongside it. I love this spot. It’s a magical place, where the world retreats, leaving you in a mini-wilderness: the ground is strewn with boulders which lie beneath tangled brambles, rare wild flowers, gnarled oaks, sycamores and all kinds of other trees, many with branches encrusted with lichens. Sadly, when you’re self catering space is always at a premium, but next time I’ll pack a good plant book and see if I can finally identify some of the species – and I’ll make room for a bird book and binoculars as well.

The beach at Bardsea looks very flat, and has stretches of grayish shingle, with some kind of coarse grass – I think it’s called cord grass – at the top, where the solid land merges into the beach, and there’s a lot of sand, but there are also areas of mud flats and salt marsh, and at high tide the sea rushes in with surprising speed, which can make the area incredibly dangerous, especially in bad weather. It’s hard to look across this stretch of Morecambe Bay and not think of father and son Stewart and Adam Rushton who died out there in 2002, trapped on sandbanks by rising tide and thick fog which prevented police reaching them.

For further information about the Ulverston area visit these sites:
http://www.golakes.co.uk/places/towns/barrow-in-furness.aspx
http://www.laurel-and-hardy.co.uk/index.php
ttp://www.sirjohnbarrowmonument.co.uk/