The North Face of Lancaster.

Christmas shopping in Lancaster:  it may not be a typical hike but it did involve several hours of solid walking, intricate navigation through the back streets of the city and an overwhelming desire to accomplish the entire mission in one expedition.  Recklessly I left my head torch, map and compass at home and pinned my hopes on Lancaster City Council's streetlighting and signage departments; luckily they didn't let me down.

After leaving Lancaster railway station I took the waymarked route along Westbourne Road and continued straight on over the major intersection, keeping the Cancer Research shop to my left at all times.  Some of the views along the way were simply stunning; snowy mountains, gaping ravines, polar bears, penguins and a giant sized Very Hungry Caterpillar in the window of Past Times.

I opted for the circular route taking in M&S Knott, BHS Screes and WH Smiths Gap.  The route was fairly busy, but perhaps less so than you'd expect for the time of year.  I also noticed that everyone seemed well prepared and appeared to be carrying more than enough food and equipment to cope with most eventualities. Should the mist have descended I am confident we could have survived on mince pies and Harvey's Bristol Cream until mountain rescue found us, though I had secreted a secret stash of liqueur chocolates in my handbag in case of emergencies and was prepared to lead a rousing chorus of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" to guide them to us should the need have arisen.

There was a good degree of camaraderie amongst my fellow hikers though I did notice that on this particular hike there were far fewer men than I usually see out on the fells.  I can only assume that the arduous nature of the route had proven too much for them and they were most likely at home with a pie and a pint bravely planning their next assault on an empty grassy hillside.

Four hours later and my mission was complete.  I'd sustained minor head injuries from a craggy outcrop of Jamie's Great Britain as I passed through WH Smiths Gap and a glancing blow to the shins courtesy of an over excited small child with a scooter.  It's an ideal bad weather route with plenty of places to shelter along the way though it's certainly not going to be the prettiest route in good weather.

Grange's Record Breaking Tree!

Fortunately I had time to recover at home before venturing out to the Christmas tree lighting ceremony in Grange. When you think about record breaking towns, Grange-over-Sands probably doesn't leap immediately to mind.  However we apparently have the tallest live lit Christmas tree in England and, in its 65th year, the longest continuously lit Christmas tree - though we do switch it off during the summer you understand.

The ceremony started at around 6pm when a crowd of excited children began to gather opposite the ornamental gardens.  After a few rousing carols the lights were turned on and Christmas officially arrived in Grange.  Soon after Santa appeared to take up residence in his grotto much to the delight of everyone present (including me, though Steve did veto me going to sit on Santa's knee.).

So there you have it, the first unsupported winter assault of the north face of Lancaster completed and the biggest Christmas tree in England.  Who says it's grim up north?

Thumbs up for Thumbs up mountain!

Well, a number of firsts today.  First time in a hail storm on a fell, first time in a snow shower on a fell, first time walking though (very light) snow and first time up thumbs up mountain.

Helm Crag, up close.

We've been waving to thumbs up mountain since the first time we drove south along Thirlmere.  It took us ages to get around to finding out the real name for the place as we rather like our name for it, but turns out it's Helm Crag.  Next time you're driving south along Thirlmere look up and to your right and there it will be, right down at the south end, looming over Grassmere, and giving you a cheery thumbs up as you go on your way.   We decided last weekend that today would be the day for it but we didn't realise we'd have a few other firsts too.

As we headed along Windermere we could see the snow on the top of the fells in the distance and got ever more excited as we neared our goal.  Our plan was to wander up Green Burn, scramble up to Gibson Knott then follow the ridge to Helm Crag and then head downwards.  You really should come out walking with us some time, we have such a laugh along the way!  Along our route we viewed Helm Crag from various different directions figuring out the best "thumbs up" angle and decided it's definitely better from a distance. 

As we made our way up Green Burn we noticed a large white wall was moving towards us and the mountains behind were vanishing.  Within a few minutes we were being pounded by a hail shower (Check out the video below.).  Walking into the direction of the wind became very painful and pretty much dictated our route up Gibson Knott.  The shower soon turned into snow and left a light dusting all around us - very festive, almost as if the weather was waiting until December before turning on all the Christmassy stuff.

The walk itself was pretty uneventful but as it was our first time out in these conditions it was an opportunity to learn.  If you're an old hand at this sort of stuff then you'll probably laugh at what I'm about to say, but cast your minds back to the fist time you were out in winter and try not to be too harsh.

Firstly I learned that I need a pair of waterproof overgloves as my wonderfully warm gloves became an icey cold block of sogginess pretty darned quickly, not helped by the fact that I have a rubbish sense of balance so have to hold on to stuff a lot.  I also learned that I need more hot drinks and less cold squash and lunch breaks in these conditions require you to be able to neck a sarnie in 60 seconds flat - without getting hiccups.  My boots, as ever, did an amazing job keeping my feet dry and toasty and the gaffa tape on my waterproof trousers thankfully stayed put.

Another wall of white approaching!

I think I've also finally realised what bothers me about the sanitised routes up the fells, they encourage idiots to head upwards with the mistaken idea that the entire Lake District is laid out the same way.  We went down via White Crag, a route that has had rock "steps" laid in because, I'm assuming, it's a popular route from Grasmere.  We found the steps a welcome addition but passed a few people heading upwards who, in our opinion, were ill equipped to deal with even such a small fell as Helm Crag.  Most notably we passed two men chaperoning 2 teenage boys.  Their showerproof macs were no match for pretty vicious hail showers we were getting, they had a small pack but no map or compass and, we overheard them say, were "hoping they'd find a path down the other side and back to the hostel."  Hoping?  HOPING?  And they were in charge of teenagers? 



I reckon Mountain Rescue should have a sliding scale of charges based on the idiocy of the people they have to rescue.  Or maybe we should introduce a points system like we do for driving licences?  Anyone caught on Helvellyn in flipflops will, of course, face an immediate lifetime ban. Those without a proper map and compass (or GPRS) should be given 9 points and immediate disqualification unless they attend an orientation class.  If they are caught a second time they should be released

on top of Scafell Pike in the mist and promised a beer, pizza and a hot bath if/ when they make it down in one piece.  Should sharpen the mind a little.

A very festive dusting of snow.

Anyway, we made it back to the car a little colder and soggier than when we set off but sporting a lovely rosy glow.  We know we still have a lot to learn about the fells in winter, but we've got some sensible routes in mind and promise to take it steady.  And no, we won't now be calling it by its proper name, it always has been and always will be Thumbs Up mountain to us.

Go away and leave me alone!

Tarn Hows - Gorgeous but popular.

Over the past few hikes I've come to realise that I'm a graduate of the Wainwright school of sociability on the fells.  I'm pretty sure that as a child I was quite happy to share my toys, but clearly I'm getting grumpier with old age.  A few weeks ago we visited the beautiful Tarn Hows, along with several hundred other people.  How dare they visit at the same time as us, didn't they realise we wanted it all to ourselves?  Honestly, do you know how hard it is taking photos when other people keep getting in the way?  It was then that I realised maybe I needed to chill out a little bit. 

Then there was our most recent visit to Dungeon & Stickle Ghylls.  Two other hikers decided to set out at exactly the same time as us and took the very same route.  Is nothing sacred?  When that happens you're faced with a tough decision - do you adopt the "athletic hikers of the fells" approach and streak past them to open up a healthy gap, sucking in your breath and belting out a cheery "Hello" that belies the effects of your exertions?  Or do you find a fascinating rocky outcrop to study, thus allowing them the time to move ahead of you and hope they're not lying in wait around the next bend?  We opted for the former and it took me a good 10 mins and an extra large chunky KitKat before I got my breath back.

Striding Edge - upto 1000 people a day stride along it.

I've even developed a preference for the Thirlmere route up Helvellyn due to its lack of human traffic.  Striding Edge is a glorious route but it's also a very busy one.  A neighbour sat and ate his sarnies on the final approach to Striding Edge one day last summer and counted 1000 people going past in the space of an hour.  The last time we took the Thirlmere route we didn't see another soul until we reached Lower Man.  Bliss.  Quite why I'm getting so antisocial I've no idea, maybe it's because we like to talk such rubbish as we potter along and would be somewhat embarrassed if anyone overheard our attempts to name all the Ninja Turtles, or listened in to our heated debates about which piece of Star Trek tech we most want to own.  (The Holodeck -v- Transporter debate has been raging for some time now.)

Of course if I thought Tarn Hows and Striding Edge were busy then that was nothing compared to the Dickensian Fair in Ulverston which we pottered along to last Saturday.  Many people entered into the spirit of the event by dressing in appropriate costume, it's just a shame that Berghaus don't make Dickensian style waterproofs as it poured down for most of the afternoon.  I think a special mention ought to go to Northern Rail too who, despite being fully aware of the event, thought it would be a great idea to just run single carriage trains and jam us in like Dickensian sardines.  Nice one.

Thirlmere and Helvellyn

Sunday saw us seeking sanctuary back in Thirlmere and taking a tiny toddle up Great How.  If you're ever in the mood for an interesting short walk with a little hill and spectacular views then I'd certainly recommend it.  Parking at Beech Grove we first walked around the head of the reservoir and along the dam wall with its fabulous commemorative plaque.  It's fair to say the decision to create the reservoir was somewhat controversial and Wainwright himself used to pee in the feeder streams in protest, though he was asked to keep this quiet for fear of encouraging others to follow suit!

From the top of Great How you have fabulous views to the south along Thirlmere with Helvellyn rearing up along the side and if you spin around and face north you can see equally wonderful views of Blencathra and Skiddaw.  For once we were able to enjoy blissful solitude on the top of the fell, a silence punctured only by the ludicrous claim that the transporter was best because it made such a cool noise.  Honestly.

How I "Fell" for the Lake District

As we've not been up any fells for a week or so I'm going to take a leaf out of the books of those chaps who write TV series and put together an episode of the blog based on clips from previous blogs.  I'm going to assume most of you lead interesting lives and haven't dug back through all my old blogs from our five week tour of northern England and a little bit of Scotland last summer, which cover my first ever visit to the Lake District, but to those few who maybe have, and to my friends and family who've been following these lunatic adventures since "the big tour" I can only apologise.  I'm also doing it because I'm feeling all nostalgic and still can't quite believe what we've achieved in the past year or so.

It's hard to believe that it was only 15 months ago that I visited the Lake District for the very first time.  We camped at Troutbeck near Ullswater then moved onto Grange at the foot of Derwent, then Ambleside for a few days before heading down to Meathop near Grange-over-Sands, now just a 5 minute drive from where we live.  So how did it happen?  Well, here's an account of my first 2  lakes and my first 3 fells - all big names, though I didn't really appreciate that at the time. 

Ullswater

22nd Aug 2010: "We headed straight for the CC site next to Ullswater, bagged a decent spot then headed for the lake. Amazingly it's my first proper visit to the Lake District and as the weather was taking a brief lull from its autumnal schedule I decided I wanted to make the most of it and head out on a boat. We got ourselves tickets for the Ullswater Steamer and 10 minutes later boarded a diesel powered boat - where are the chaps from trade descriptions when you need them? We happily chugged up and down the lake for a couple of hours and even spotted a couple of houses we fancied buying one day if we maybe win the lottery. Twice. The scenery was dramatic with Helvellyn looming large over the head of the lake. Once back ashore I took out a small mortgage to buy a loaf of bread and some milk before we headed off for Aira Falls.

The Aira Falls pay & display carpark was free for National Trust members - hallelujah! That's another 70p saved thanks to our annual membership fee... As the NT hadn't splashed out on too many signs we ended up on the wrong side of the river for High Force so Steve deftly & elegantly leapt across 3 boulders to the other side. As I have the sense of balance of your average Glaswegian after a night on the lash I rolled up my trousers and paddled across. In the 20 mins it took me to slither and swear my way to the other side several families with young children had followed Steve's lead and were all now mocking me from the far bank. Eventually we made it up to High Force for the obligatory photo of more gallons of water hurling themselves selflessly down a rockface for the amusement of tourists."

Derwent

25th Aug 2010: "If I thought the roads to Buttermere were fun they were simply the warm up for the approach to the CC site we're now on near Keswick. Heaven knows how twin axle caravans make it down here. A tight right hand bend into Grange and immediately over a narrow stone double hump bridge before squeezing along the road through the village lanes past badly parked tourists cars. (I'm telling you - the Elddis Panzer would restore a little order.). Then a few more winding lanes before dropping down into a fabulous little woodland site. No loo block but plenty of peaceful pitches.

After lunch we decided to walk around the lake but we got distracted half way round by Catbells fell so we climbed that instead. Not a big peak but in a perfect spot for panoramic views of Derwent, Keswick and the surrounding valleys. We're hoping to tackle something rather more challenging when we're in Ambleside so this was a nice warm up."

28th Aug 2010: "Pinned down by the weather for several days now. All we can hear is a howling gale outside and rain lashing down. “I’m just stepping outside” I said. “I may be some time.” I retuned 45 minutes later laden down with croissant and fresh bread rolls this was, afterall, Ambleside and not the Antarctic. But the weather has been pretty bad...

Ullswater from the top of Helvellyn

Yesterday we decided that if we’re going to ‘do’ the Lake District then we may as well ‘do’ it properly, so at the crack of dawn (well, maybe a little nearer to 9:30am) we set off for Glenridding and a hike up Helvellyn. And we didn’t go the easy way either, oh no, we took the hard route via Striding Edge and just for good measure nipped along Swirral Edge to Catstye Cam while we were up there. Then a long, long, looooong descent via Dollywaggon Pike and Grisedale Tarn before a nice long stroll along Grisedale Beck and back to Delores. A grand total of 6 peaks and well over 15 miles of yomping, none of it flat. We didn’t rush and were out there for over 9 hours, but it was worth it. The views down over Ullswater were amazing, the rock climbing was fun and all that exercise meant I could scoff fish and chips in the evening with complete impunity.

We’re not experts in the mountains but took plenty of sensible precautions which is more than I can say for many of the people we saw up there. Luckily the weather was good, but there really is no excuse for tackling a peak like Helvellyn in flip flops (as we saw someone wearing). If Mountain Rescue ever has to be called out for idiots like that I hope they send them a very large bill. Mind you we saw plenty at the other end of the scale too, with some people well equipped enough to winter in the Antarctic."

31st August 2010: "Back in our now slightly less muddy field we made our plans for Monday – the big assault on Scafell Pike. Our legs were feeling much better and the blisters were doing well. Being in Delores we didn’t think the haul up to Wasdale Head was a great plan, it would have been around a 90 minute journey and not something I’d have enjoyed doing after a long days hiking. Instead we opted to drive to Seatoller, cycle to Sathwaite and walk up via Stockley Bridge. Whatever the plan an early night was in order.



Great Gable - love at first sight.

On the drive over to Seatoller we followed a double-decker tourist bus which helped clear the traffic for us which was, as Steve put it, rather like having a Sherman Tank on point. We got to Seatoller around 9:45am with only one minor mishap, we missed the signpost for the National Trust car park and very nearly ended up on the Honister Pass. Luckily there was somewhere to turn around and the kindly bus driver pointed out the car park for us. As it was a beautiful sunny bank holiday Monday there were plenty of people around and everyone seemed in a good mood as we headed up the mountain. Many of the routes up Scafell Pike are pretty but the mountain top itself is quite brutal, a huge pile of jagged rocks which made me wonder where the actual mountain itself was and how they accurately measured the heights of things that seemed to be no more than a pile of scree. The top was like Piccadilly Circus but at least everyone had made it up there safely. I would say that all we needed to do now was to get down, but once we get up into the mountains we like to stay there, so as well as visiting all the peaks along the ridge to Scafell Pike we also nipped over to Esk Pike, Bow Fell and Allen Crags before dropping back down. I definitely want to return to climb up the Great Gable though, a wonderfully imposing mountain and fabulous to look at."

So there you have it - how I "fell" for the Lake District - and you can't really blame me, can you?

The Devil Wears Berghaus

Just because we're not hiking a fell this weekend doesn't mean we can't do outdoorsy stuff, which is why we headed off to the Kendal Mountain Festival on Saturday.  These sorts of events fascinate me in many ways as the fashion stakes are so high - not that anyone would ever admit that as many people attending these things have made a fashion out of being anti-fashion, if that makes sense.

So, what to wear? Well I needed to go for a look that said "I'm serious about the outdoors" but not in a "I've just slept on a park bench" kind of way.  Whilst there seemed little point in me donning full hiking gear for an afternoon in Kendal, I could justify my walking boots as I'd be on my feet all day, so feet sorted, but what about the rest of me?  Well, for once there was no rain forecast so I wouldn't be needing my waterproof jacket or my fashionably taped up over trousers, which gave me a little more freedom with my wardrobe.  In my mind I went to the mountains for inspiration and asked myself this question: "What do mountain dwellers look like?" There'd be a number of big mountaineering names lurking around the festival so I wanted to get it right.  After much consideration I settled on a look that emulated that most elusive and sought after mountain dweller, the Yeti.

The top I'm modelling in the photo has been knitted from the softest underbelly fur of the rare Himalayan Yeti and is 100% genuinely synthetic (dry clean only) and it's fair to say I attracted a little attention with it.  While some people simply stood and stared in wonder other's shared their joy at seeing such a rare and unusual clothing item by laughing out loud. A few female passersby asked where I found such a wondrous thing but their husbands looked at me with eyes that begged me not to tell.  At one point, when I was stood in the main marquee admiring some photos, I looked down to find a small child standing next to me gently stroking my arm. At least the assistant in Mountain Warehouse had asked before they stroked me.  Any moment now I thought someone might offer me a saucer of milk.

I remain unrepentant as the top is by far the warmest item of clothing I own and I feel I won the "anti fashion" competition hands down as everyone else had opted for the rather more predictable hiking trousers/ fleecy top combo.

So, fashion attire sorted, what of the Kendal Mountain Festival?  Well, as many of you know, we are potless at the moment so much as we would have loved to see many of the fantastic films and speakers they had lined up we simply couldn't afford to.  We took a stroll and found a drum group in full swing brightening things up no end in downtown Kendal but other than that the only other place to visit was the large marquee in the Brewery Arts Centre car park.  Based on the assumption that you can roughly judge the priorities of the target audience according to the proportion of space taken up by the main sellers, it's clear that the two main things mountain types are interested in are clothing and whisky as planetFear dominated one half of the marquee and Bowmore whisky the other half.  Committed to the cause I strove to divide my time equally between the two and found a lovely pair of cheap Bergahus walking trousers to replace the ones I wrecked on Wetherlam and I availed myself of a couple of the free samples those nice chaps at Bowmore had laid out.

During the course of the afternoon we also joined the RSPB a fabulous cause and only £3 per month), spent time chatting with a nice man, who wasn't Pete, about spikes on the Poguspikes stand, and generally had a good rootle through everything else that was there including photos, head torches, very sweet mountaineering food and some interesting outdoors courses from those lovely chaps at Dallam Outdoors which we'd love to have a go at but maybe next year when we're (hopefully) a little richer.

We had an interesting afternoon and even though we couldn't make the most of everything that was on offer it was still well worth going along to, though I am half expecting to appear in next week's Westmorland Gazette as the hunt for the elusive Yeti of Old Kendal Town hots up.

What the Fells Have Taught Me

Well we've been up here best part of a year now and as my profession is that of a sort of teacher I think it's time I reviewed the things I've learned thus far in our new life.

First of all I've learned to walk up hills, sounds easy enough but within a month of getting the house keys I got myself a shocking case of shin splints and was grounded.  Walking on the level was OK but there isn't a lot of level around here.  I suppose linked to that is the fact that I learned that Cartmel is further than you think and it's best not to try and sprint back over the fell when you've had a bucket or so of wine as that's what kicked the shin splints off. (The walking, not the wine).

Secondly I've learned to walk in the dark.  Where we previously lived there was a large nature reserve next to us Fleet Pond and it provided a handy shortcut to the railway station meaning that after long liquid nights out in London or Basingstoke we could use it as a short cut home, but it always scared the bejeebers out of me walking around there in the dark.  We have now been stuck out on several fells after dark and I'm beginning to get the hang of it.  Still not 100% comfortable with the experience but I'm getting used to it.  Maybe I need a hip flask.

And it's not just dark on the fells, the little track outside our home is unlit and there aren't many street lights along the nearby road either, so I've sensibly invested in a Legoman keyring and if you squeeze his belly light shines out of his feet.  Who says I'm not well equipped.

Thirdly I've learned about wildlife.  I've learned that sheep are the dumbest animals on the fells.  Sorry, but it's true.  There have been sheep and hikers on the fells for generations and yet they still look surprised to see you.  I've learned that cows come in two main varieties, bored or nosey and so will either track your progress with a menacing air of hoody-esque detachment or follow you in groups to the nearest gate.  I've learned that Slow Worms aren't and that Adders are quite pretty but best not approached.  I've also learned that deer may be cute but they make the rudest noises when rutting (Bambi had to come from somewhere) and they are masters of disguise, hiding out on the fells all day and appearing through the mist to scare the hell out of you after dusk.  Lastly on the wildlife front I've learned that there are no words adequate to describe how annoying midges are.

Fourthly I've learned how to read a map properly and use a compass.  To be fair I could do that before but my wellbeing has never depending upon it as it does now.  I've also learned that compasses can be unreliable, they are only required to do one job and that is to point north, and although mine failed to do that recently we still made it home, thanks to my in inbuilt gin homing device.

I've learned about outdoor equipment.  I know all about taking care of our waterproofs and I've learned that sliding down fells on your backside is expensive.  I've also learned that I'm an old fuddy duddy when it comes to walking boots and after several attempts with non-leather boots I finally found my perfect match with my lightweight leather Brasher boots (and I'm still not getting paid to plug them!)  I also learned that proper waking boots require proper woollen socks unless you have a fondness for large weeping blisters.

And lastly I've learned about inversions and how unpredictable they are.   We managed to see one over Windermere and, flushed with success, got up at 6am the next morning in an attempt to see another one over Ullswater.  We failed but I did learn how cold it can be before the sun comes up.

So what's left to learn?  Well with winter looming ahead I plan to learn what hiking in the snow is all about, though I'll be starting gently on the lower fells I know well before attempting anything too lumpy, and I still need to learn how to pace myself better and not go tearing up every fell like an excited 6 year old.  But then, maybe there are some lessons I'll never learn.

Sod's Laws of Hiking

This weekend's excursions took us on a gentle toddle up Tarn Hows on Saturday and a rather more strenuous toddle up the Langdale Pikes on Sunday.  Several things happened along the way which caused me to suspect that there is a special section of Sod's Law reserved especially for hiking.  It goes something like this:

1.  The best lunch spots will be found either at 11am and/ or 3pm and certainly not at lunchtime.

2.  Any wild animal will pose perfectly for you until you get your camera out.
3.  Rocks that feel dry to the hand will feel wet to the bum.

Finally!

4.  When hiking along a Gill you will find the perfect crossing point/ bridge about 5 minutes after you've paddled across.
5.  Taking full waterproofs is the best guarantee of good weather.
6.  The route you want will always be over the most awkward fold in the map.  Or, in the case of the Seathwaite route up Scafell Pike, it will be on 2 different maps.
7.  When you are utterly knackered and hauling yourself up "the hardest climb you've ever done" a fell runner will breeze past with a cheery "Hello".
8.  You will need a pee in the most exposed and barren part of the hike.
9.  When faced with a difficult spot of navigation in the mist you will inevitably have an audience.  They will watch whilst you have a hissed exchange of opinions and they will continue to watch as you disappear off in one direction only to reappear and walk past them in the opposite direction 5 minutes later.
10.  However well equipped you are there will be someone in the car park with bigger/ shinier/ newer.
11.  You will have a good phone signal until it's misty, dark or both and you want to quickly double check your location.  At this point all satellites in the northern hemisphere will hide themselves from your phone.
12.  However remote or obscure your route, someone else will decide to hike it at exactly the same time as you and will usually be chatting loudly.
13.  At the top of the most popular routes a large number of people will feel the urge to phone home to say "You'll never guess where I'm calling you from.  I SAID YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHERE I'M CALLING YOU FROM."
14.  Removal of layers of clothing is directly linked to changes in the weather - the second you remove a layer, the temperature will drop requiring you to replace it again, at which point the sun will come out.

High Street - well, bits of it.

15.  Your route will go right through the middle of a bog.  The route around the bog will only become apparent after you have reached the other side.

16.  Nothing in your pack will get squished apart from your lovingly made and much anticipated sausage and egg mayo roll.

17.  Your ability to zip up your waterproof quickly is directly proportional to how hard it's raining and how cold your hands are.

18.  The fruit and nuts will be in the last rucksack pocket you check.

19.  In driving rain your route will be directly into the wind.

20.  The mist on the top of the fells will lift at roughly the same rate as you descend.  Once back at the foot of the fell you will be afforded clear views of the previously misty peaks you've just stumbled across.

Well there's my 20 to kick off with, though I feel sure there are many more - please feel free to leave comments and tell me what I've missed.

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