Today was the day - I journeyed to Ulverston to see Stan Laurel's birthplace, and I must say, it was a glorious trip. I left from Manchester Piccadilly although in hindsight, and for next time, I can probably go places from the Oxford Road station which is a good deal closer to campus. But at any rate, the ride up was gorgeous. We were going north, into the Lake District, and the scenery was absolutely breathtaking. I think I might have seen a very small moor, and I know that I saw the coastline. We passed over a lot of water and past multiple floodplains; the whole area actually reminds me of a delta. If I remember what Mr. Banker taught us, I think it has all the markings of a glacial valley with oxbow lakes and stuff. Whatever the case may be, it was an amazing ride - I kept shuttling back and forth from one side of the car to the other to take pictures out of the windows (I was the only one at that point, so it was fine). It was very foggy and drizzly weather, which isn't great for picture taking but actually I think it made everything look that much more rugged and lovely.
It took about an hour and a half/two hours to get to Ulverston, and even if Stan wasn't born there it would have been worth it. It's an ancient town and so many of the buildings, even regular houses, are made of age-old stone and have been standing for what seems like forever. I think, however, it's not quite the "bustling market town" it once was, as it seems rather un-bustling these days. But it's in a great location, and on a nearby hill (I say "nearby" and "hill" when what I really mean is a small mountain about 10 miles up the road) is a large obelisk that overlooks the town. When I first saw pictures of that on Wikipedia I thought maybe I could climb it after I was done at the museum, but when I saw it in person I realized that was completely unfeasible for the afternoon. Perhaps next time.
The museum itself couldn't have been easier to get to, but about a block up from it is the statue of Laurel and Hardy that was recently built to commemorate their achievements. I, of course, took pictures of it; it's quite a nice statue, very characteristic of them, and it's ringed with the titles of some of their most famous pieces ("Sons of the Desert" naturally being one). I then proceeded down the road to the museum, which changed locations within the past six months and is now located in the basement of an art deco theater called The Roxy. I'd say that the museum itself is about the size of our den, maybe a little bigger, but it was incredibly cool. They had so much stuff there - memorabilia, artifacts, pictures, letters, informational slides, posters, furniture, just about everything. They had info boards on some of their most famous movies and shorts, as well as info on some of the other characters that frequently appeared on screen with them (ie Mae Busch and James Finlayson), and they had some life-sized statues too. They also had a mini movie theater set up in the corner, complete with genuine movie theater seats from that era, maybe 15 of them. They show films and shorts all day long and you can sit and watch as many as you want. I managed to spend a good three hours in there, watched several shorts, and essentially had a grand old time. It was so great to watch the films with other people and hearing them laugh as hard as you do. One elderly lady left halfway through one short saying, "If I stay any longer, I'll wet me pants!" I was surprised at how many people were there - probably a good 14-18 passed through while I was there or were there when I started. I was the only person under the age of about 50, not that that was hugely surprising, but I'm willing to bet that despite my age, I was probably the only one who could sing the Sons of the Desert Anthem by heart and has "Honolulu Baby" on my iTunes.
After I had exhausted all the museum had to offer and had gone over everything, I poked around the gift shop and asked the guy on duty if the house Stan was born in was still around. He told me that, in fact, it was, and he also directed me to the Stan Laurel Inn, which is like a bed and breakfast with some more memorabilia and pictures. I set off into the pouring rain - yes, it poured the whole time, from the moment I stepped off the train until the moment I stepped back on - and reached the Inn about three minutes later. It was a cute little place with some neat pictures hanging on the walls. From there, Stan's house was fewer than five minutes up the road - 3 Argyle St. It's been modernized since 1890, but it has an officiated plaque saying that Stan was indeed born in that house. It was a great moment . . . from that door issued such genius. Amazing. Watching those shorts today really made me appreciate how difficult it is to pull off that kind of comedy. From any other duo it would just come off looking incredibly stupid. The way they just stand there when they know exactly what's gonna happen - I mean, like anyone would just stand there as you paint his face with molasses and then dump a load of feathers on him. But the mannerisms and expressions to go along with acts like that pull together and make it work perfectly. You don't notice all that stuff as a kid, but the older you get the more you appreciate what an art form it really is. You really have to have something special in order to be able to pull that kind of thing off.
After I'd seen all the Laurel and Hardy related sites the town had to offer, I had some hours to kill, so I walked around town (yes, in the pouring rain still, because pouring rain never stops me, as you well ought to know by now), explored some churches, and walked the high street - narrow, cobblestoned, quaint, elegant . . . in short, everything an old British town should be. After some explorations, I stopped into a tea shop and got some hot chocolate and crumpets - real English crumpets, not the ones they have in Asda that you pop in the toaster. Apparently you butter them and then serve them with melted soft cheese (Lancashire cheese, in this case). They reminded me of biscuits (American biscuits, not British ones) a little bit, but lighter and not nearly as dense. They were delicious, as was the hot chocolate which was made from scratch, not Swiss Miss. It was an absolutely perfect setting - cozy, quaint little teahouse, the kind of place Karen or Mrs. Miller would love, hot chocolate, crumpets, lovely Irish music in the background, rain pounding the cobblestones . . . it was just perfect. I lingered there for a while while I read a paper for Holocaust (I knew I should have brought Jane Eyre instead), and then eventually started meandering my way back to the station, taking several detours along the way to take a look up cool streets or take pictures of an awesome church. The gate was open, but I'm not sure if we were supposed to go onto the grounds or not . . . oh well.
I'd have to say that this was one of the best days I've had since getting here - not only did I get to see a historic landmark and pay homage to a comedic god, but I also got to poke around a true old English town and get a lovely picture of what the Lake District is like . . . and was it ever lovely. It's a bit difficult to take digital pictures from the windows of a moving train, especially when the train is being rained on, but I think I got some good ones. I'll post them soon and then add in the link so you can check them out.
EDIT: I now have pictures of this fabulous journey posted on Facebook. You can access them with this link; just copy and past it:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2039793&id=71701775&l=989d31bc86
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