We went by train from Lowdham to the Ecclesbourne Valley Railway,
changing at Duffield. The heritage DMU plodded up the valley to Wirksworth,
reminding me of how bouncy they could be when we rode them on the Wirral in the
60s from New Brighton and later from Bidston to Chester Northgate and Wrexham.
Another advantage was that if you secured a front seat you
had the driver’s view of the road ahead. That meant you could see the numbers
of approaching steam locomotive much more easily and without getting smuts in
your eyes - or even risking a full-frontal lobotomy, whilst sticking your head
out of the window.
At Wirksworth, we found an unfussy little town surrounded by
old lead workings and stone quarries perched on the side of a hill. Not a great
deal seems to have happened here apart from brief associations with a couple of
well-known authors, DH Lawrence and George Eliot. On the wall in the heritage
centre, which was formerly a silk mill, there is a quote from the then local MP,
Matthew Parris. It flags up that this was the only place that he had ever been
publicly “booed” - apparently a highlight of the town’s one thousand-year history.
I got the impression that over the centuries Wirksworth has “just got on with
being Wirksworth”, which, of course, is no bad thing.
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