BIF, the remainder

 I didn't actually take advantage of much else that was on offer at the Buxton Festival, choosing instead to take a trip to Hardwick Hall. I'd never been before, although I was vaguely aware of the story of Bess of Hardwick, who seems to have been a most formidable woman, marrying a series of rich men, who all died leaving her their money and property, fighting a series of lawsuits to maintain her rights in said money and property and outliving pretty much everyone who'd tried to get one over on her. It's an interesting house and an interesting story. What I hadn't realised previously was that her second husband was the Cavendish from whom the Dukes of Devonshire descend or that she had built the original Chatsworth House, now replaced by the current one. The 12th duke owns much of the land a bit further up the Wharfe Valley from where I live, as he does most of the land around Buxton. Both places are replete with pubs called the Devonshire Arms and buildings called the Cavendish Pavilion and the like. I would post some photos of Hardwick Hall, but it was raining heavily during my visit, as it continued to do throughout my few days in Derbyshire.

Now, far too little time has passed since I last featured Morris dancers and I apologise for mentioning them again. The worst of the rain was on Saturday morning and with thunder, hailstones etc all going on around me I dived into the small shopping centre in the centre of Buxton to be confronted by the surreal sight of dozens of Morris men and women standing there jingling to themselves. OK, not just to themselves, but also to the rest of us who were seeking shelter from the storm. It seems that someone thought it would be a good idea to have a constant stream of Morris sides dancing throughout the town during the festival. It wasn't. The vaguely steampunk bunch shown above were perhaps the least offensive.

A Morris dancer goes into a pub and says to the barman "I bet you don't remember me".

The barman studies him for a bit and says "Well, I don't recognise the face, but the legs ring a bell".