“DON’T believe everything you read in the papers,” they used to say — and that was certainly true of a controversial corner in a recent issue of the Sunday Times, in which townies complained about “the dump” of rural Britain.

“Very, very quiet, but also very, very dark — and I can find nowhere that will serve me a decent cup of coffee,” whinged one woman.

A Birmingham man was also disillusioned about country life: “High crime rates, no police, no shops within walking distance, no restaurants and you have to take the car everywhere.”

Views like these could only come from born-and-bred city types who have never travelled from Penrith to Ullswater on an early-spring morning, with weak sunshine giving a glow to sleepy fields, a sparkle to the gush of the Eamont and added magnificence to the splendour of Dalemain.

Ahead lies Ullswater, the English Lucerne, pond-like and matchless in beauty, in a frame of rugged hills.

Of course, there are countless other vistas in Cumbria which give lustre to rural life — Askham in daffodil time, a cricket match at Edenhall, a village May day or rushbearing, or the absorbing view across the Eden Valley to the soft undulations of the distant Pennines.

As for a decent cup of coffee, people in these parts have the ability to make their own.

Old-time trader

With shopfront titles like Blockbuster, Bargain Booze, Shoezone, Pizza Parlour and Second Time Around, the streets of old Penrith are jazzier than they used to be.

There was a more modest refinement about the place when shop signs carried the names of their owners — J. H. Howe, in Angel Lane; Tom Guest, in King Street; Tom Nicholson, in Market Square; H. L. Sweeten and Henry Clark, in Devonshire Street; Thomas Edmondson, Pickering’s and Thornborrow and Eddy, in Corn Market, among others.

One of the old-time Penrith traders, draper Thomas Bardgett (1871-1922) is recalled in the latest issue of the newsletter of Cumbria Family History Society by a striking picture and an article by his grand-daughter, Kathleen Walker, in Lincolnshire.

Older Penrithians may remember buying coats, jackets and shirts from Bardgett’s shop, on the west side of Devonshire Street.

Thomas originally had a partner, John Nelson, and after the dissolution of the partnership, the business became a limited liability company, with a branch in Keswick.

A native of Pooley Bridge, the son of a joiner and boat-builder Edward Bardgett, Thomas developed into a sound businessman. He took a leading role in Penrith affairs and was a one-time president of the Tradesmen’s Association (now the Chamber of Trade).

Alas, his life was cut short at the age of 50 by a lingering problem with varicose veins.

"Elusive lady" of Lake

The late Joseph Hardman’s picture, in Cumbria Life, showing Donald Campbell and his jet speedboat, Bluebird, is a timely reminder that the hero’s first successful bid for the world water speed record was on Ullswater, back in 1955.

Time has blurred the story of Bluebird, with many people somehow convinced that Coniston was the lake setting for all the record attempts.

In Mr. Hardman’s picture, a couple of Ullswater swans rest alongside the famous boat, with Donald Campbell, chief mechanic Leo Villa and others, in the background, on Glenridding pier.

Six months were to pass, and many adjustments had to be made to Bluebird, before the sleek craft shattered the record decisively, averaging 202.32mph, well ahead of the previous best time of 178.49mph, set by an American.

The build-up of the record made a big story for the Herald, whose then editor, George Hobley, wrote: “Those long, lovely evenings on the lakeside, waiting for the elusive lady to appear, and the thrill of seeing her when she did, will be long remembered.”

What's the "crack"?

Heads were scratched when the Penrith Partnership asked people to name what they love about the old town.

The view from Beacon Edge was suggested as a probable contender among those who are dotty about the place — but does it have to be something visible, like the Beacon Pike or Musgrave Monument?

This columnist submits for consideration the Penrith “crack” — the chat, the natter, the communal glue of neighbourliness.

One of the joys is to meet an old buddy, a Penrithian, a school friend, perhaps, knowing that he or she shares the same memories of days long past.

There are many scenarios for the exchange of “crack”, but a personal view is that cricket grounds, like Penrith’s Tynefield Park, are among the most variegated.

Matches last up to six hours — generally in the sunshine — and, with time to fill between overs, fall of wickets, cover drives, late cuts and dubious lbw decisions, conversations can mature and cover a vast range of topics.

Subjects for debate on the popular seats near the pavilion can include favourite eatinghouses, the deaths column in the Herald, the price of houses, leg-pulls about this column, the occasional shapely passer-by, trends in policing (for three of the main chatterers are retired officers) and much more, including the prospect of another beer.

Win, lose or draw, cricket “crack” is always the most buoyant.