John Rylands Library stands watch over the far end of Deansgate, sticking out like a sore but beautiful thumb against Spinningfields’ contemporary offices. Step inside, however, and you’ll soon discover why this stunning piece of neo-gothic architecture is the perfect place to escape the city centre crowds.

The first thing you’ll notice is the silence settling over you: the considered, rhythmic beat of boot heels on wooden floorboards the only sound. All around lies a warren of dimly-lit corridors, intricately carved stone and cabinets upon cabinets of ancient books. You feel as though you could have stepped onto the set of Hogwarts.

Working printing presses and leather armchairs nestle in cosy nooks waiting to be discovered. And whatever you do, don’t miss the loos! All bottle green subway tiles, wooden coat hooks and vintage charm, they’re a sight to behold and, in my experience, largely unknown.

One of my favourite things about this gorgeous old library are its ever-changing exhibitions. On a recent visit, ‘Magic, Witches and Devils in the Early Modern World’ evoked fascinating images of satanic apparitions, ancient talismans and nightmarish witch trials.

Once you’ve finished exploring, the cafe and gift shop are well worth a visit. Bibliophiles be warned, however: special editions of literary favourites abound!

Images by Charlotte Varela

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Breathtaking and imposing, and just a fraction short of a mountain, the 557-metre summit of Pendle Hill stands watch over East Lancashire. It’s an atmospheric peak, shrouded in tales of witches covens, and the perfect spot for a bracing walk. Albeit a challenging one.

Fell runners train on it and seasoned hikers have the sandstone in their blood. You don’t have to be fit as a fiddle to tackle Pendle Hill, though; embarking on the ascent at your own pace is all part of the fun.

As you tread the steeply-sloping trail, don’t forget to look up from the ground beneath your feet: the higher you venture, the more beautiful the view becomes. More fields, forests, reservoirs and towns appear with every step, until finally, with the wind whipping your face, you reach the summit.

As the ground flattens out, take the opportunity to catch your breath before the sweeping panorama of the county below rises to snatch it away again. On the clearest days you can see right to Blackpool tower, while misty, winter afternoons cast their own kind of magic.

Images by Andy Rothwell on Flickr & Charlotte Varela

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Callooh! Callay! is just the antidote to a cold, grey winter’s day – a charming and cosy Alice in Wonderland-themed tearoom tucked away in Clitheroe.

Upstairs dwells a rummager’s paradise filled with books, records and prints, while downstairs waits a whimsical escape. Mismatched vintage china, quirky wallpaper and the comforting smell of home-cooking make it the perfect hidey-hole for friends and families.

Good food and an exhaustive array of unique teas take centre stage. All named according to Lewis Carroll’s novel, you can enjoy blends from O Frabjous Day! (a bracing English Breakfast) to Borogroves Brew (a warming combination of ginger root, lemon zest and lemon grass). During my last visit I sampled Cheshire Cat’s got the Cream, a sweet black tea with notes of strawberry and marshmallow – reminiscent of hazy summer days.

Of course, it’d be a crime not to enjoy a pot of tea without cake, so after a rustic bowl of spinach, potato and cheddar cheese soup, I tucked into a slice of chocolate mousse cake that made my heart sing. Rich, gooey and drizzled with fruit coulis: I’d challenge anyone to try a piece without waving goodbye to their winter blues.

As the Walrus so rightly says: “Callooh! Callay! No work today! We’re cabbages and kings.”

Images by Charlotte Varela

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Hidden away off a country road in the pretty village of West Marton, Skipton, is Gledstone Gardens, a tranquil retreat where you can easily while away a sunny afternoon.

Small but perfectly formed, this pretty garden centre stretches across an outdoor space that, in 1830, played host to the spectacular kitchen gardens of nearby Gledstone House. The gardens now overflow with an impressive array of plant species, so pleasing that bees make a pilgrimage across the surrounding countryside to feed on their sweet nectar.

I had never seen many of the beautiful and exotic flora before: the early arrival of sunset created by the ‘red hot pokers’ is a sight to behold. And the other thing not to be missed is the pick-your-own strawberries, grown in row upon row of ‘table top’ planters.

Armed with a basket, I plucked fruit from plants alive with the buzzing of hungry wasps determined to claim their spoils before me! I beat them to it though, and left with only a huge smile on my face and a bag full of locally-sourced produce that was twice the size of a supermarket punnet, and no more costly!

Images by Charlotte Varela

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Formby is the National Trust’s northern coastal haven, home to sweeping beaches and deep pine woods. The latter is one of the last strongholds of the red squirrel, and the reason I decided to venture down with my boyfriend. We walked and walked through the forest with our eyes peeled, but weren’t rewarded this time. The early spring sunshine and blue skies were too rare a treat to waste, however, so we braced ourselves against the growing wind and made our way down to Formby beach.

Vast, hazy and rugged, the beach feels like a true wilderness. Shattered razor clams and scattered crab shells emptied by busy wading birds crunch underfoot. The sea, foamy and cool, is the perfect place to stand and peer out over the horizon, the soft sssssh of the waves calming your soul.

We followed winding paw prints left by excitable dogs until we found the perfect incline to clamber up onto the surrounding sand dunes: an area we’ve never fully explored. With the wind picking up, my hair whipped my face and my coat pockets filled with flying grains of sand. Our laughter grew and grew. And as we reached the top, straightened up and brushed ourselves off, we were greeted with the most breathtaking panorama – a glittering ocean, shifting sand and sweeping stretch of secretive forest.

Images by Charlotte Varela

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The petite village of Haworth hides among the evocative West Yorkshire moors; Brontë country, all swathes of heather and skittish grouse. Enchanting vintage treasure troves, quaint bookshops and enticing bakeries line the main stretch of cobbles, but my favourite place to escape the winter chill is Cobbles and Clay.

The food is wholesome, healthy and delicious, and the cakes are just the right amount of naughty, but this unassuming wood-furnished cafe also offers pottery painting!

I’ve eaten here a handful of times but never indulged my crafty side, so after polishing off a bowl of freshly-made mushroom soup, I went upstairs to choose my pottery. From owls and dinosaurs to mugs and coasters, there’s no shortage of choice, and I had a hard time choosing. In the end my love for all things bushy-tailed won over, and I set to work bringing my adorable fox to life.

Totally immersed in making my fox look as lifelike as possible, I swapped and changed brushes, chatted away to my boyfriend, and when things got tricky, passed him my project. While he put his art qualifications to work I gazed out onto the cobbles, watching intriguing passers-by and characterful dogs. I can’t remember the last time I relaxed so completely; such a lovely way to while away a chilly afternoon.

Images by Charlotte Varela

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It’s rare to find an interiors shop that isn’t all ‘minimalist chic’ or cookie cutter design, least of all in an old cotton town in Lancashire. Live Like the Boy, however, is a veritable treasure trove of seventies style, industrial accessories and contemporary quirks.

The first thing that strikes you as you enter the shop is the rainbow of colour practically radiating onto the street. There’s an immediate feeling of warmth and happiness, owing in no small part to Ashley, the shop’s owner who’s always ready with a cheery ‘hello’ along with his adorable dachshund, Stanley.

Ashley sources and curates every piece himself, from vases to chairs, and is the perfect person to ask if you aren’t sure how something could work in your home. From Magpie cushions adorned with Britain’s best loved birds and vintage chairs upholstered in vibrant fabrics, to eclectic cards and Mini Moderns wallpaper, there is something to suit every style and desire. I guarantee you won’t be able to leave empty handed!

It’s hard to believe that, little over a year ago, Colne was seen as just another industrial relic that had passed its best. Live Like the Boy has proven the naysayers wrong; a diamond in the rough responsible for bringing trendy new shops, tearooms and eateries to this forgotten town, and the perfect place to escape to come rain or shine.

Images by Charlotte Varela

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Manchester is famed for the quirky eateries and vintage-inspired tearooms of its Northern Quarter, but this retro charm has begun to trickle its way closer to the main area of Deansgate.

All monochrome floors, filament lightbulbs and pale woods, Proper Tea is a beautiful tearoom serving, you guessed it, proper loose-leaf tea alongside a great menu of light bites and sweet treats.

The tea experience harks back to the days when this humble drink was a luxury, and not so humble after all. On the menu you’ll find everything from everyday Earl Grey to ‘Jasmine Fairies Performing Flower Tea’, an elaborate treat full of blooming flora. I kept things a little simpler, however, and opted for Vanilla Cacao with a scone accompaniment. I wasn’t prepared for the meticulous experience to follow!

Arriving in a cafetiere, along with a little glass jug in which to pour your fresh brew (to stop it from stewing and getting bitter), I also received a timer set at the optimum brewing time for my specific tea. I must admit, I usually find this kind of thing a little too fussy, but the taste of my tea made me drink my words. It was rich, deep and fragrant, and had a subtle yet unmistakeable taste of chocolate running right the way through.

The scone didn’t disappoint either – fluffy and moist, it just melted in my mouth and, accompanied by the tangy jam and rich clotted cream, quickly stole the mantle of most delicious scone I’ve ever tasted.

Images by Charlotte Varela

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Visiting Scarborough seafront after close to ten years of absence feels like coming home. The smell of seaweed on the air and the boisterous chattering of seagulls is a childhood comfort that still never fails to make me smile.

While many people imagine tat and tackiness when they think of how the old seaside towns of Britain appear today, Scarborough has managed to steer clear of this prejudice and still retains all of the excitement and charm you imagine it held in its heyday. Of course, there is a kind of garish transformation when you enter the arcades, but to me that’s all part of the fun…

Honing your technique on the two penny machines until, finally, a torrent of coins tumbles noisily into your cup affords a childlike thrill that never gets old. Neither does the anticipation that comes from popping a pound coin into a crane machine you know is rigged, but can’t resist just in case you win that fabled cuddly toy.

That said, I think that Scarborough seafront is about much more than just the arcades. It’s about strolling down the beach without a thought for the sand making its inevitable way into your shoes. It’s about stopping along the way for one of Scarborough’s famous lemon twists – a delicious ice cream that tastes just like a lump of lemon meringue pie in a cone. It’s about sitting by the sea with a tray of chips, watching the boats glide by and the seagulls fight over food. And it’s about soaking up some rare British sun while you gaze out across a beautiful horizon bordered by lush green hillsides.

After such a long overdue trip back to my childhood haunt I returned home with not just a bag full of rock and hair set in curls by the salty breeze, but a renewed love for this characterful little seaside town.

Images by Charlotte Varela

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I firmly believe that there is nothing better for the soul than the great outdoors, which is why I’m filled with such boundless excitement every time I set a date for a trip to RSPB Leighton Moss. Even the journey down to the reserve is lovely, taking place along some of the North’s most picturesque stretches of motorway and, as you draw closer, a border of fields and woodland bursting with passing flashes of ornithological life. A taste of what’s to come.

The reserve itself is a haven for such diverse bird life that even the most disinterested visitor will find themselves turning twitcher. Friendly, chubby robins make regular appearances as you walk around the woodland, sitting no more than two feet away in hope of a scrap of food. Other birds aren’t quite so courageous, but can be spotted by the eagle eyed and keen eared; nuthatches, marsh tits, treecreepers, warblers of different varieties – just some of the talented songsters who call this beautiful reserve home.

Some of the most spectacular sights, however, can be found using the hides dotted around Leighton Moss’s famous reedbed. Amidst the peace and quiet kissing Grisedale Hide I watched a distant group of red deer, antlers dreamily backlit by the sun. Later on in front of public hide two marsh harriers soared gracefully above the din made by amorous black headed gulls, occasionally dropping into the reedbed before flying skyward again with barely a sound.

Sitting there with a humble sandwich and chocolate biscuit, I all of a sudden felt completely content.

Image by Charlotte Varela

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