There’s nothing quite like a Great British Bank Holiday, is there?

Usually, we are the kind of family that pretends Bank Holidays aren’t really happening.

I mean, it’s nice to have a day off and all, but usually, all that rushing off to an overcrowded beauty spot along with 90% of the rest of the population… well, it’s not for us.

Apart from yesterday, when it was. We fancied a day out. So we decided to go for it, Bank Holiday notwithstanding.

At first, we thought we’d made a huge mistake as we sat in a l-o-o-o-n-g traffic jam, snaking painfully slowly towards our destination.

And then, after fighting our way through the crowds to park, we immediately partook of that traditional Bank Holiday experience: queueing for the loo.

But then, the day got better.

The last time I went to Clumber Park I was probably no more than eight years old. I remember the day only vaguely…

I liked the place but, as with most trips out with my parents, there was just too much traipsing. It is fair to say that I was not a keen walker as a child, mainly because I walked slowly and hence often got left behind to traipse alone.

Yesterday we did not traipse. We strolled.

And it was beautiful.

There were bluebell woods in their full splendour…

And a lake. With ducks and geese, and a river with a weir. And views.

There were a lot of people, but the park was big enough to absorb them all…

And then, we did something else that in our normally-quite-skinflinty existence we would not usually do.

We paid to get in somewhere, despite already having paid a not inconsiderable sum to get into the park in the first place. This is something that, having come from quite skinflinty families, still seems somewhat alien to us.

My parents did not normally take us to places where you had to pay to get in. Neither did my partner’s parents.

In fact, I once was present when they actually turned around and drove home on a day out, because it would’ve cost too much to park.

So it felt like a bit of an extravagance to pay not once, but twice to get into the same attraction.

But what can I say? It was worth it…

The walled kitchen gardens at Clumber are a wonder to behold.

Previously supplying the big house with all-year-round produce, they have been restored to their former glory, despite the fact that the big house itself was demolished in 1938.

The warm-toned, lichened brick walls enclose four acres of espaliered fruit trees, ornamentals, herbs and the largest collection of rhubarbs in Europe (171 varieties!)

And most spectacularly of all, an enormous glasshouse, full of peach and nectarine trees, geraniums, pelargoniums and a wonderfully-scented giant jasmine…

I could have sat in that glasshouse, in glorious solitude, gazing out into the orchard outside forever.

We eventually dragged ourselves away from the tranquility and beauty of it all, to queue for an overpriced cup of tea in the café.

Where we marvelled at how being delayed of receipt of a cuppa and a slice of cake can cause some people to forget their manners.

There were, I decided, compensations to having to pay to go in somewhere.

It certainly keeps the crowds away. ♥