âI wondered why it is that weâre all such bloody fools. Why donât people, instead of the idiocies they do spend their time on, just walk round looking at things? That pool, for instanceâall the stuff thatâs in it⊠mystery of their lives, down there under waterâ George Orwell, âComing Up for Airâ (1939)
I CONFESS that this is a fishy story. I was driving to Crummock Water, one of the Lake Districtâs less tourist-mobbed destinations (if you want a tip, Thirlmere is another), but stopped on the north-east bank of Windermere for a breather. Parked the car near the village of Troutbeck, walked to the stony shore, admired the spirograph patterns of the raindrops on the gin-clear water, childishly stepped out along a row of black stones into the lake, looked down and there was an Arctic charr. The Ice Age fish. I am convinced of it. At first slanting glance, I thought âclub-shape of troutâ, but then the fish carouselled in the water: witch-mouthed; sinister streamlined corporeality; U-boat Type VII; gold pollocking belly catching coal fire as it fled.
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Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choiceâ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loavesâEmma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround usâbut not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: âIt is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.â I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning