Tideswell

The Derbyshire Peak District is right on our doorstop but feels like it belongs in another time zone. Our part of Lancashire is raw and hard and the Peak District is soft and mellow; even the light is different. We often pass through it on the way to somewhere else but hardly ever think of visiting it for its own sake. It's as if we can't quite believe it's there.

Yesterday afternoon we went to Tideswell, in the heart of the Peak. The round trip (which included some meandering) clocked up at 70 miles.

The locals call the place Tidza and enjoy their hillbilly reputation. They call themselves Sawyeds- in honour of the Tideswell farmer who (according to legend) freed a cow that got stuck in a fence by sawing its head off. 

The Church of St John the Baptist is mainly 14th century. It's so big and handsome it gets advertised as the cathedral of the Peak. it has a lot of very distinctive woodwork and some fine medieval tombs. The wealth that was once sloshing around came from lead mining. Now this is hiking country. The cafe where we went for tea was full of people in thick woolly jumpers and walking shoes.  The local paper we read while we ate had an article about UFO sightings- another local speciality. 

If you're young and hip it must be hell having to live here.  As we wandered round we kept bumping into a solitary, emo  hoodie. You can just make him out in the first of the pictures, sitting next to the signboard, hood up, eyes downcast. 

The final picture is of longtime Tidsa residents, Sir Thurstan and Lady Margaret de Bower.