Autumn Cottage Diarist

Oh, How I Long for the Highlands

Plans are afoot in Autumn Cottage for travel to Portugal in the Spring and to France in the Autumn. I look forward to both journeys with anticipation - but tonight my heart is in the Highlands.

I long to travel back to the Ardnamurchan peninsula on the West coast of Scotland - to some of the wildest, most beautiful landscape on earth. To a place where Mankind is very tiny indeed, and where Nature is Huge, and gets on pretty well on it's own without any help from us, thank you very much. To sit in the little cottage on the side of the loch, gazing out over the still water, calm until it is disturbed by a school of porpoise swimming along its length.

I long to wander along clifftops, amongst the sheep, past deserted villages emptied during the Clearances, only the crumbling stone crofts and the overgrown graveyards left behind to mark where a community once stood.  To walk the white sand beaches of Sanna Bay, as pristine and empty as the most exotic tropical island.

And then to return to the cottage, to sit in the evening air amongst the sweet scented azaleas and await the arrival of the pine marten, a fey creature that resides beneath the woodshed with its kits, coming down to the bird table in the dusk for a little light refreshment from the ever indulgent humans who so clearly pay well for its antics.

At the moment, I sit at my desk, the snow falling once again outside, but visit in my heart once again that wilderness that I hold so dear. How long will it be, I wonder, before I can tread those heather hillsides once again?

A Passion for Blue and White

Of all the decorating fashions and trends, one of the most perennial, the most classic and the one I love the most is to use the themes of "blue and white" to adorn a room. It can be a theme that emerges as just an accent, using cushions (pillows), throws or one or two items of china, to a full blown, over all, sock it to 'em coverage that becomes blue and white as far as the eye can see.

My own particular enthusiasm is to collect odd cups, saucers, plates, dishes and jugs (from junk stalls and boot sales, of course) and use them both as accents and as focus collections around the house. You can see how I have done this in the pictures of the dresser and also that of the plates hung on the wall. None of the items cost more than a pound or two - and yes, there may be the odd chip or crack in one or two of them - but arranged together, I don't think anything else has the impact of this classic combination.

If you decide to make your own collection of plates on a wall (much cheaper than even the cheapest painting - and they will survive in damp conditions such as a conservatory or bathroom with much more safety than your favourite watercolour!), then lay them out on the carpet and play with the patterns before you hang them. Symmetry can be appealing - but a whole wall covered with odd blue and white saucers of differing sizes and shapes would also look stunning.

For whole room treatments, "The Blue and White Room" by Mary Gilliat is one of my favourite books. If you are interested in pottery and china, "Miller's Collecting Blue and White Pottery" by Gillian Neale can also be bought for a few pounds on Amazon. But beware - blue and white decorating can become seriously addictive, and what starts out as an innocent little hobby costing pence can become a passion costing much more than that. But oh, how beautiful it will look!

Climbing Up My Family tree

Meet Mary Amici - my great grandmother, in a photograph probably taken
at the time of her engagement. She married my great grandfather, Thomas
Latham, in 1867, in the little village of Claines in Worcestershire.

Mary was the daughter of one Charles Amici, gentleman son of the London
City merchant Joseph Amici. (I'll tell you more about Charles another
time). Oh, what a search I have made for details of Joseph and his
family - for it is through him that I believe I have Italian descent -
though there are now suspicions in my mind that he could also have been
Swiss. (I'll tell you why another time, too!)

Another mystery - though the name is Italian, Joseph worshipped at, and
all his children were baptised at a Protestant church in London, the
church of St Michael Bassishaw, in Basinghall Street. Was he of Huguenot
or Waldensian extraction? How I long to know.

The Internet has been the source of much information for which I would otherwise have spent years searching - but sometimes it brings as many questions as it does answers - and of course, a lot of that information can cost!. But if it is at
your fingertips, the temptation to click that tab and ring up just
another pound or two here or there is almost irresistible, after all
this is my FAMILY  that we are talking about!

Thomas and Mary with their daughter Fanny, in the 1890's. 

Guilty Pleasures!

Awake early this morning - but no school run to do as my son's classes
had been cancelled - so back off to bed I crept for a couple of hours,
before dawn, with a cup of tea and two chocolate biscuits. What a
delight it is to be lazy on a weekday, when one should "officially" be
up and about.

It's been snowing all week, on and off, but thawing in the day and
freezing at night - so the cars on their way to work on the road outside
were travelling gingerly - the wind whipping round the sprinkling of
snow left on the ground. A pretty unpleasant place to venture.

I, meanwhile, am sitting in bed, listening to the radio, with my pen and
journal to hand. Another pleasure - to write at leisure in the morning
when I feel fresh, rather than (as I used to do) write late at night,
when I now start to fall asleep as soon as I hit the mattress. (Staying
up, often until 2 am in the morning, may have something to do with this,
I admit!)

In between writing in my journal, I take a leisurely browse through
some gardening magazines, full of the delights of spring and summer to
come. As the climate changes and the South of England grows ever closer
to a Mediterranean climate, I plot and plan Mediterranean areas for my
garden.

More herb pots here, a pergola for the flourishing vine there,
and lots more flowers in all the beds everywhere. I have a gardener to
fight the large scale overwhelming growth now - so I can concentrate on
getting three year old cuttings finally out of their pots and into the
ground. Propagating plants is great fun - but they do, in the end, cry
for mercy as they struggle and strangle in their pots.

See where my mind has taken me already this morning? And I think, for
now, I will stay with the images of springtime and not open the curtains onto that grey, icy, silent world that is presently outside.

Talking of Venice....

May 24th 1906

"May 24th - Ascension Day.

Up at 5 and took the steamer to the Rialto Bridge to see the Erberia
(vegetable market). Disappointed in the show. Breakfast in garden. Mabel
still prostrated but revived in the afternoon and we went to San Nicolo
again, but this being a fiesta or fete day, we did not find it so quiet
and peaceful as on our former visit. However, it was rather nice and we
had coffee at a dear little red auberge embowered in acacia trees.
Missed our return boat by one minute

.....A wonderful concert on the steps of the Salute in the evening.
3,500 children from all the schools in Venice and the surrounding
islands. Sat on the balcony of our hotel (which is exactly opposite) and
watched the entertainment. Gradually the whole canal became a bridge of
gondolas, wedged closely together, until one could easily walk across.
As far as one could see either way, were closely packed gondolas. "

"The whole population of Venice turned out to see and hear the children.
Each school was dressed in different colours, ages varying from about 6
to 14. The whole 3,500 sang as one, and the effect was very fine, only
rather too short for such an amount of preparation before hand. When the
performance was over it was a curious sight to see the gondolas
separate.

It seemed almost an impossibility they could ever get apart, such a
tangled mass they looked. But without the slightest disorder or
confusion of any kind, gradually the ones on the outside edge began to
move and then slowly the next, and so on, the quietly moving mass simply
glided away as if by magic. It was a sight worth coming all the way to
Venice alone to see. "

The photographs and accompanying quoted words are taken from an old journal that
I bought a few years ago (I am an avid journal keeper, but collect
historic journals as well). It is written by "a lady", who was
accompanied by a female friend on her visit to Venice in 1906. I have
transcribed the whole journal - the whole magical story of her travels
from England, to Venice, Verona and Switzerland - and still have a plot
at the back of my mind to follow in her footsteps next year, exactly one
hundred years later.

Wouldn't it make an enchanting documentary?

Gleanings of the Boot Sale and the Junk Shop Queen

Over the last three years I have become besotted with collecting glass - so much
so, that I put up my own shelves in the window recesses of the main room
of the house, which faces south and glows like stained glass when the
sun shines through.

Only four of the pieces on these shelves have any real value - the rest
of them have been picked up for pence at local jumble (rummage) sales,
car boot sales, garage (yard) sales and in the Junk departments of any
Antiques Arcade that I can find. Hungerford provides regularly
satisfying pickings!

I guess that I will finally have to make my way to Venice as much for
the glass as for all the other treasures that I will find there - but
until then, I keep adding pieces to these already burgeoning shelves
from wherever I can find them (Did I mention charity (thrift) shops?)

This little row of cloisonné pots is also very interesting. I found them at
an indoor boot sale in the college where I study, last Sunday. It is a
fascinating set, showing how cloisonné is made, starting from the blank
copper pot (1). Wires are then soldered onto the copper base pot
in patterns (2), the spaces in between filled with several layers of coloured
lacquers and enamels (3+4), then a process of sanding down to the level
of the wires takes place to reveal them again, (5+6). Finally, a thorough
polishing to bring up the glossy sheen.

All eight pots for ten UK pounds ($20.00), which I thought a bargain. It is
always so interesting to see the whole manufacturing process of an item.
(Someone from a well known Auction house in the UK was apparently also
interested in them - possibly for their training value - but I was lucky
enough to get there first!).

Anyone else have a passion for collecting?

Stories in Pictures

This is the handpainted sign from our local pub, "The Gun", where we
often have Sunday lunch. There has been a building on the site for many
centuries, the name of the pub alluding to the fact that it stands on
the outskirts of the area that was the site of the 1st Battle of Newbury
in 1643, one of the important battles of the English Civil War. It is,
in fact, believed that the building originally functioned as a hospital
station during the battle.

Evidence of the fighting is spread all over the area of Wash Common -
people frequently turn up archaeological finds of musket, cannonball and
other militaria. Autumn Cottage lies about three miles away from the
battlefield, and even here we have found interesting items in the
garden. The most interesting of these is the lead top from what was
called an "apostle" - a measure of gunpowder, carried in a bandolier
across the chest.

We have been told that the cottage was inhabited from about 1700, but
that before that it may well have been part of some farm buildings - so
it is quite likely that soldiers travelling on their way to or from the
fray may have holed up here. I like to think so, anyway - so romantic!

As we are having a thorough overhaul of the garden this year, I am
toying with the idea of carrying out a more comprehensive dig there. I
have literally boxes and boxes of artefacts that have been retrieved in
the general course of digging the flower beds and when building work has
occurred, but it would be interesting to carry out a more thorough,
accurate dig and record it properly. A good friend is the retired
Curator of the local museum, whose expertise I should be able to call
upon. I'll have to think more about this...

This is one of my recent efforts at collage. Another on line friend who
owns her own Yahoo list called "Armchair Travelling" has encouraged the
idea of an "Artist of the Month" in the group. Last month we focussed on
Jean Cocteau - and this is the collage that I created as a result.
Initially started with paper & acrylic paint, then scanned and script
added digitally. It's only a quick effort, but I am learning more about collage all the time. I enjoy the facilites offered by digital manipulation, but there is something missing in not having the wonderful textures of a mixed media work to enjoy. Swings and roundabouts, I suppose.

This month we are finding out more about the authoress Georges Sand, one
time mistress of Frederic Chopin, but also an accomplished writer and
woman of the word. (I meant to write "world" here - but I think the slip
in fact describes her better :-)). I am enthusiastic to join in such an
enterprise as this - we can vote for our choice for the next month, but
I am quite happy to "lose" the vote - because then I discover more about
someone with whom I might be totally unfamiliar - which is much more of
an exciting adventure, don't you agree?

Waiting, Waiting for Spring

The wildlife pond and summer house at Autumn Cottage, the garden asleep and awaiting the spring.

Just a few daffodils are pushing through at the back of the pond - not many this year as we have acquired a wonderful gardener, Anya and her gentleman helper, Richard, to come along and rescue the garden from being overwhelmed by Mother Nature, so there has been much digging over, bare earth and disturbance. I hope that it will be worthwhile, however - that rejuvenation will ensue and Autumn Cottage garden will bloom in glory this year.

To the left of the bridge going over the pond is the bog garden - hardly anything visible there at all right now, but soon the ornamental rhubarb will start to push through, along with the candelabra primulas and astilbes.

The summer house is closed up, awaiting a spring cleaning. I occasionally sit there with a cup of hot tea or chocolate, because still the birds come down to drink from the pond. But all is quiet there on this February day - the chilly interior awaiting the rays of the spring sun. The water in the pond lies quiet, awaiting the return of the frogs and toads, (hopefully not too quick a return of the grass snake that also visits and gobbles tadpoles!)

I'll visit the pond throughout the year so that you too can enjoy this English country garden as it comes to life once more.

Joining the Merry Throng

Hello, everyone!

I have always considered myself a blogger before I knew that the word was invented, having kept a website based diary since at least 1995. But now I have decided to dive into the great world of interconnected weblogs out there - to share part of my life here in an old cottage in England.

I am in awe of the amount of content that some of my fellow bloggers are able to produce on a daily basis. I can't promise to be so prolific, but will certainly look forward to popping in when I can to tell you a little more about happenings in this lovely life of mine (yes, by and large I do love it!).

My immediate excitement is in having booked a holiday for later in the year, to stay at a friends cottage in France. I already run journal writing workshops, so will be going with a primary aim of enjoying good food, good wine and good company, but with a secondary aim of sussing out my friend's cottage (and her sister's chateau) with future writing courses in mind. (At which, come to think of it, I would also be intending to enjoy good food, good wine, and good company!)

Take a look at the cottage, and also Imagine yourself here in the Chateau. Any takers for 2006?