Brief Encounter, filmed in the war and released in 1945, is a much-loved Noel Coward classic filmed by David Lean, has become a British classic. Carnforth Station, where the major scenes were filmed, was only saved from the Beeching axe because of the film's fame, and we had intended to pay homage to the station on this trip to the Northwest. First off was to stop by the tearoom, famous for where Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard met and fell in love. Far from the stale, dried sandwiches of that era, we had delicious jacket potatoes and herbal teas served by unusually quiet staff.
A small art and craft shop next door provided Ann with a new hat with a bright red rosette, in the style of the French revolution, but the man running it broke the news that the heritage centre was to be closed through lack of funding and increased costs of heating. The staff had only been told that morning that they had three weeks left, so that explained the gloomy atmosphere in the tearoom. We immediately went to the heritage centre, where they were so upset they were waiving the admission fee for the day, but there they were very talkative, sharing their disappointment at the lack of consultation. The exhibition was a mix of remarkable film memorabilia, including a full exhibition celebrating David Lean's work, and separate rooms of old railway exhibits.
Sunderland Point, just past Carnforth. In the 16th Century, it was a small port serving slave ships from the West Indies and North America, but is now the burial site of a black cabin boy or slave on unconsecrated ground in a field near the small village. It is only accessible via a narrow road, which crosses a salt marsh and is cut off at high tide. We checked the tide table and noted high tide was not due for an hour, so decided to risk the crossing, but unfortunately lacked the time to explore of find the grave for already the water was lapping the edge of the roadway, so we turned round to retreat. As this picture shows, many people still remember the child and those dreadful times, now leaving painted stones in memorial.
Following our causeway adventure, we went on to Lancaster to see Glasson Dock on the opposite side of the River Lune, whose opening brought about the decline of Sunderland Point. The peninsular is approached by a small swing bridge over a lock, which was currently shut to allow a waiting craft to enter. We joined a queue of cars, and I got out to lean over the fencing and watch the locking in. The lower gate was closed, the water emptied, the lower gate opened, the boat entered, the gate closed again, and water allowed to refill the lock. During all this, all the cars in front of ours had turned round and left, so Ann was left behind and had to get across to the driving seat to move up to the lock gate. Meanwhile, an Amazon driver who had been cursing at the delay decided to walk across the gate to do his delivery, rather than wait in the queue. He had an armful of parcels, and two or three slipped from his grip to fall on the narrow walkway over the water; he was lucky not to lose them in the water. Some minutes later he was back, one parcel still in his arms that he'd been unable to deliver. Gradually the boat before us, rising from level with the roadway to a height where we could see the hull. The lockkeeper, an old, grey-haired and bearded man, was winding up one of the sluice-gates when there was a sudden crack and rattle of a chain running out. He stooped and picked up a piece of ironwork and said, "it's broken!" The pawl had snapped off and the chain had disappeared, so he walked over to our window to announce the obvious: "The lock's broken; the bridge won't open." We were now the only car remaining, so I turned round, leaving the lock closed, and the ship still trapped between the gates and blocking the swingbridge from turning back.
