Death of a Good Companion

The last time I slept in this tent, I was about fifteen years old. We got snowed in, just down the road from the Sportsman pub in Dentdale.  My father had to come and rescue us in his Morris Traveller. Three wet, cold hungry boys have never been so pleased to hear the familiar and unmistakable noise of a Morris engine shifting down a gear. The previous day had been a sun kissed scorcher, we’d retired in the evening after a feast of three bottles of coke and fifteen bags of Seabrooks crisps from the Sportsman. The snow fell overnight, six inches of it.

Some 30 years later, imagine the wry look on my face as I opened the zip and lifted the faded orange flap to see about three inches of snow on the ground at Great Langdale campsite this weekend. I’d borrowed the Good Companion from my Dad in a twisted moment of nostalgia and curiosity. The Blacks Good Companion was the first tent I ever slept in. It was our family tent, the one in which my love of camping was nurtured. My father had bought it in 1963 and lugged it from Edale all the way to Kirk Yetholm along the Pennine way. I was curious to see how well it had stood the test of time.  Meticulously cleaned down, dried and folded after each outing. Guys tied, pegs wiped, creases smoothed out of the sew in groundsheet lovingly rolled and slipped into the original bags. It was a ritual I well remember. Look after the tent Josh, it’ll look after you’ or words to that effect.

Sorry Dad, it’s got a hole in it! The 48 year old canvas flysheet died at the hand of the boy it had sheltered for so many years. I’d got up to shake the snow off as the walls were sagging in, just as they had done in Dentdale all those years before, but as I gently pinched at the seam to give it a shake, my fingers and thumb went through the canvass. I felt sick. Luckily, I know a bloke in Wiltshire who had a similar disintegrating canvas experience, but with his inner tent. If I can persuade Steve to part with his flysheet, then our Good Companion might just carry on for another 48 years.

Not just ‘anywhen’ – a review of British Seasonal Food by Mark Hix.

First published by Quadrille in 2008, this is a new paperback edition for 2011.  Superbly photographed by Jason Lowe and peppered with illustrations by Marcus Oakley, reflecting the simplicity of the whole idea, go with the flow of the seasons.  It’s the book of ‘when’ and follows his ‘where’, British Regional Food, published in 2006. Hix argues that abstinence sharpens the taste buds, ‘the great thing about cooking with British ingredients in their true season is that you really do enjoy them that much more.’  British Seasonal Food is a culinary cornucopia stuffed with a riot of recipes set to cudgel the taste buds with the finest ingredients available.  This truly is a gem of a book.  The recipes offer a number of variations on each of the seasonal ingredients featured.  The seasons are introduced month by month in Hix’s own inimitable style.  It’s as if he’s sitting next to you and whispering in your ear, ‘shh, it’s a secret that only you know, it’s September, go pick some blueberries’.  Reading this book is like having your own personal trainer, you’ll be a toned up sage of seasonal produce.  Go buy it.

 153 recipes

British Seasonal Food – Mark Hix

Quadrille Publishing Ltd: London (2011)

ISBN: 978-1-84400-943-5

Available in the UK from 4^th March 2011.

Load that Spring!

Spring is well and truly on its way, the diary is filling quickly with camping plans, van trips and holidays abroad. Top highlight will be a van trip up to Lochhouses for our tenth wedding anniversary. Found the place through Canopy & Stars who advertise on the Guyrope Gourmet website, hmm maybe I should have tried to negotiate a discount! It's up to the Lakes and Great Langdale next weekend for a stroll along Crinkle Crags up to Bowfell with pal Glyn. I've managed to borrow my Dad's Black Good Companion tent for the occasion. The Good Companion is the first tent I ever slept in, it was our family tent back in the seventies. They're rare as hen's teeth nowadays and seem to fetch a pretty penny on ebay. 

It was a light weight modern tent in its day, all 9kg of it! My father and his pal Ceri walked the entire Pennine Way with it in the early sixties. It comes in two enormous roll bags and is still in mint condition, although a little faded.

The Egg Banjo

A delicacy of the British Army, so named for its explosive properties and musical association!

The Guyrope Gourmet cooks in five star restaurant

It's official, I'm now (emotionally at least) a struggling writer.  Having been recently 'off hired' from my position of Service Manager for a support service for victims of domestic violence, I have joined the realms of struggling writers worldwide.  A victim myself, of the machinations of a small voluntary sector organisation swimming against the tide in the coalition's 'Big Society' sea, I've taken a job in my local chippy. I'm learning the art of frying fish on a Florigo range.  Prime haddock, cooked to order. None of that fry it and pile it up in the hot box nonsense.  I have to admit, its a lot harder than the last job, but I'm starting to like it!  The Guyrope Gourmet gets a 'real' job in the catering trade!  If you're ever passing through Otley, call in and say hello.

Photo courtesy of Florigo web site

The Cove has been a regular feature in our family life for the past four years.  I've been in there on a Thursday tea time, more or less without fail, for that long.  Thursdays is fish & chip night in our house.  John, the owner, has had it for three and a half years.  When I told him of my recent predicament he offered me a job.  Now that's what I call customer service!


I'm merely a beginner with a lot to learn, but I can now proudly add 'frying fish' in a five star chippy to my culinary heritage.  It all started with learning how to cook my granddad's delicious soups, "plenty of pearl barley boy", he'd say in his soft Kentish accent.  Not long after that I graduated to my mother's Tatws Pum Munud, a traditional Welsh dish of potatoes, onion & bacon cooked in gravy.  By the time I sat CSE Home Economics, deep fried egg & chips seemed a natural progression.  I'll never forget the look on Mrs Walker's face when I told what I was doing for the final exam.  I failed! Still It wasn't wasted, I could cook her a lovely haddock if she ever dropped into the Cove!    

Gordale Scar, Art & the Dukes of Hazzard!

Some years ago as an errant and clueless art student, I remember being bowled over by James Ward’s magnificent depiction of Gordale Scar.  In excess of fourteen feet in height, and by far the largest canvas in Tate Britain (then simply the Tate Gallery), it caught my eye.  I must have lingered for half an hour or so.  Marveling in its size, I was transported back to Yorkshire, back to the ‘Gateway to the dales’, a stones throw from where I grew up.  Ward completed the work around 1814 and judging by the looming tempest depicted high above the jagged limestone cliffs, the artist didn’t get as lucky with the weather as we were last weekend.  Come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t have had the pleasure of staying on the campsite at the mouth of the scar.  Who knows?

Gordale Scar Campsite is without doubt one of the most striking sites in England.  The current owner appears to be a bit of an artist himself, more Tracey Emin than James Ward.  The fellah has an amazing collection of used foil tray barbeques, empty plastic water containers and knackered fold out camp chairs, all neatly stacked in piles awaiting a nomination for the Turner prize.  From the looks on the faces of folks milling around the toilet and washing block, I guess the majority of campers thought the old guy must be slowly loosing it.  But we ex-art students, we know the truth!

   

Art aside, I was there to see my pals, some of whom, I’d last clapped eyes on nearly twenty years ago!  And what a pleasure it was.  It’s amazing how camping can bring folks together.  We were surrounded and outnumbered by young candidates for the Duke of Edinburgh Award, a couple of whom had the pluck to request that we keep the noise down as they were up at five the next morning.  Ok, our party was more Dukes of Hazard than Dukes of Edinburgh, but for Pete’s sake, I hadn’t even got my tent pitched at that stage!  An evening in the Lister’s Arms would surely keep us out of trouble.


We awoke in the morning with sore heads and more than a little confusion.  So what exactly is a Duke of Edinburgh? We mused.  Well, we all agreed, it’s probably a bit like a Prince Albert, but only more painful!

A book review of sorts

As far as I'm concerned, camping & cooking is easy. Well the cooking bit is easy and let's face it it doesn't really matter if it all goes wrong, so long as you haven't burned the bejeezus out of it you can still eat it. The camping bit is always more tricky. Finding a good campsite can make or break your stay and is probably why I end up going back to the same few sites i've visited over the years. So when I was asked to do a review of a camping guide, I jumped at the chance to go somewhere new! Book reviews are new to me, but i'll give anything a go.

You wouldn’t buy a car without taking it out for a spin, well I did actually – a Dodge Dart ‘Swinger’ and it got me safely from New Hampshire to California, where I sold it for a profit! But that’s another story.  A bloke from Alan Rogers Guides emailed me and asked if I would review their latest edition of The Best Campsites in Britain & Ireland, I’m glad he did!  Using the old ‘test drive theory’ I picked a site on the shores of Llyn Tegid (lake Bala) in North Wales.  Arriving at dusk with the light failing rapidly, my worries about finding a flat pitch for the campervan were assuaged by the fact that the whole site was as flat as a pancake.  It was a combination of the Alan Rogers guide and OS Landranger series, Sheet number 125, which lead us to our caravansary for the evening.

I awoke to the murmurings of a babbling brook and the sunlight shining in through the curtains.  Alan had served me well, the site was splendid, and what’s more, strictly adhering to the brief description on page 238.  Well served with hot showers etc etc.  Maybe it was beginners luck, but I’m starting to like this guide.  With over 600 sites between the covers, it would take a hell of a lot of petrol and more ‘wife miles’ than I could muster to put the whole book to the test.  Ok it lacks the ‘coffee table’ appeal of the Cool Camping guides, and would definitely be improved with actual photos from some of the sites it details rather than using stock photos, but it’s easy to use and appears to do what it says on the tin.