I'd been hankering to visit Hardwick Hall for a while.

Today, we'd determined to go, but actually almost abandoned the attempt. Nottinghamshire was basking in wintry sunshine, but as soon as we hit Derbyshire, we ran into a cloud bank, exuding murk and spitting rain. We ate our sandwiches (very good -- peppered beef) on a little side-track, and mulled whether we should change plans, and go elsewhere.

But the sun struggled out again, and we persisted. Which was a good thing. The temperatures were low, and the ground was muddy (how you can have a frozen lake and soft, boggy fields I don't entirely understand...), but we had quite a bit of sun-and-blue-sky, and the whole complex -- house, walled gardens, parkland, lake, and extensive views -- is really, really beautiful.

Hardwick Hall was completed in 1597, and for its time it was massively innovative. It's one of the first buildings in the country to be actually designed by a person called an architect (in this case, Robert Smythson); it's symmetrical (a new idea in building conceptualization, apparently); and not only is it full of glass (a local rhyme runs: "Hardwick Hall, more glass than wall"), but the windows get bigger as you move from bottom to top.








It's the brainchild of Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury, otherwise known as "Bess of Hardwick". Hers are the initials that adorn the roofline of the house, and her story is a very fascinating one. Born on the site of Hardwick Old Hall, she became a powerful figure within the society contemporary with Queen Elizabeth I.


She married three times, becoming very wealthy in the process. Third time round, she became a countess, but fed up with the Earl of Shrewsbury's role as "custodian" of Mary Queen of Scots, Bess left Chatsworth, and moved back to her childhood home at Hardwick. She started to construct what is now known as Hardwick Old Hall, but in 1590, before it was even finished, Shrewsbury died, and work began on Hardwick New Hall.





The mud is tiresome, but the park and lake offer many rewarding views:










Walk over, we sat for a while in the car, looking out on the sheep-studded parkland, and dispatching the remains of the provisions.

On the way home, we called in at Silverhill, originally a spoil heap of material extracted from the former Silverhill colliery, and now, at an elevation of 204.3 metres, one of the highest points in the county of Nottinghamshire.

The sculpture at the top, by Antony Dufort, is called Testing for Gas, and commemorates the mining activities of Nottinghamshire's 85 collieries.


We just made it back to the car before the rain started again. We've been a little unlucky in administrative matters during this trip, I can't help but feel, but I don't think we can complain of bad luck in the weather-and-outings department.