Autumn Cottage Diarist

Reasons to be Cheerful

Out there - it is a dark November night - dark, really, at 15.45, after not getting very light all day.

The bitterly cold wind is not with us now, but there has been a fine drizzle all day - and it is promised that the wind will return tomorrow.

Indoors - I have a fire in the stove & I have finished sorting out heaps of books (for now, anyway - I won't take you into the library....).

The kitties are keeping me company, Andrea Bocelli and Jan Garbarek alternate on the stereo and the aromas from the casserole in the oven are pervading the air. As November nights go, I have known worse!

Enticing Embrace of a Foggy Day

Deep down again into my beloved woods, just across the road from where I
live. Who would want to spend an hour on a treadmill at the gym, when
you could spend it here? Still a surprising amount of leaf on the trees,
but also much more of the gentle patter, patter of falling leaves now
than there was just a week ago.

Today I was enfolded into the embracing fog of the November landscape.
Not fearful, not sinister to me, but peaceful, enclosing, inviting. The
still, thick air deadens my footsteps even more, it seems, so that I can
get closer than usual to the roe deer on just the other side of those
bushes, before it bobs and bounces off into the undergrowth, only its
white tail flashing to let me follow its trail. And both at the bases of
trees and high above there are also an inordinate number of squirrels a-
busying themselves with preparations for the long, thin time ahead.
Winter closes in and the prepared will more likely survive.

The cattle in the photo below are in their field day after day - two mothers, two
sons. I wonder now how long they will remain? The ominous possible
future of the youngsters is always in the back of my mind - but for now,
they graze peacefully in the same swirling fog, with this wonderful old
shed for shelter. Look at the blue of that old door - doesn't it just call
out to be painted or sketched? Where's my sketchbook - right now?

On This Remembrance Day

"So you were David's father,
and he was your only son,
And the new-cut peats are rotting
And the work is left undone
Because of an old man weeping,
Just an old man in pain,
For David, his son David,
That will not come again.

Oh, the letters that he wrote you,
And I can see them still,
Not a word of the fighting
But just the sheep on the hill
And how you should get the crops in
Ere the year gets stormier,
And the Boches have got his body,
And I was his officer.

You were only David's father,
But I had 50 sons
When we went up in the evening
Under the arch of the guns,
And we came back at twilight -
O God! I heard them call,
To me for help and pity
That could not help at all.

Oh, never will I forget you,
My men that trusted me,
More my sons than your father's,
For they could only see
The helpless little babies
And the young men in their pride.
They could not see you dying,
And hold you while you died.

Happy and young and gallant,
They saw their first-born go,
But not the strong limbs broken
And the beautiful men brought low,
The piteous writhing bodies,
They screamed 'Don't leave me, sir,'
For they were only your fathers
But I was your officer."

E.A.Mackintosh

To the memory of three British Officers, Harold, Oswald and John - Alec's great uncles, who died in the Great War, 1914-18.

And to the memory of all the other beloved souls who gave their lives in
all conflicts, before and since. Some of which were just, some of which
ensured my freedom, for which I am deeply grateful - all of which took
somebody's fathers, sons, brothers, husbands, mothers, daughters,
sisters and wives.

As a mother, I ask you to also spare a thought, if you will, for the
mother of the three brothers, the Lady Cawley, for whom titles and
social status protected her not one jot from the agony of losing her
"three brave boys".

Read about the memorials to the three Cawley brothers/sons, and a
grandson, Alec's uncle John, also an officer, who died in WWII.

And for those that survived, my parents and grandparents and the whole of their generations, I offer now the respect that I did not, perhaps, always pay to you when you were alive.

As a teenaged child of the Sixties, I actually used to sing all the way through the two minutes silence on this Remembrance Day "because I hated war".

Oh, foolish girl. If I had only realised how much they did too - and with far greater knowledge and reason than me. How little I knew then how wise and silent they were to me - and how much I must have broken their hearts.

I am sorry - and now I remember you - in my own silence and gratitude.
It was not just the Fallen that had every right to plead......

"When you go home, Tell them of us and say: For your tomorrows, We gave
our today.

"At the going down of the sun and in the morning.....We Will Remember Them"

This Week's Tiny Treasures

A very satisfying few days for discovering miniature treasures.

Firstly, at the beginning of the week, I "ran away" for the afternoon
with my good friend Liz (regular readers will know that we often run
away together when something or other prompts an escape!). We took off
for our usual haunts - antique shops and pubsforlunch and this time I
came up trumps.
Buried in the depths of one of my favourite antique hunting grounds I
espied the roof line of what I knew to be a "Princess" dolls house -
made by Triang from the 1930's as a replica of "Y Bwthyn Bach" - the
play house given to Princesses Elizabeth (now Queen Elizabeth II) and
Margaret Rose "from the people of Wales". I was beside myself with
excitement at spotting such a treasure - and even more excited when I
saw the very bargain price. Although it has mostly replacement windows,
the house is in extremely good condition, and just waiting to receive
all my 1/16th scale furniture which I have collected for many years.

In addition to this find, I also made another very pleasing discovery
today, while returning from lunch in one of my favourite little market
towns, Wootton Bassett in Wiltshire. This is still a delightful place,
unmarred by large chain stores (which generally make most towns now look
much the same as each other). This town is full of character, lovely
Georgian buildings, the picturesque 17th century Old Town Hall (which
now functions as a museum) and lots of old coaching inns and charity
shops, both of which receive much of my custom.

Heading back to the M4 motorway, I spotted a sign for a "Craft Village"
at Wroughton. We decided to take an hour to browse around there, and I
was more than pleased that I did. I was first daunted by the large
undercover play area for children, but soon saw that this offered
somewhere to entertain "little people" while grown ups could browse
around the craft units. There was a scrapbook/stamping/card makers
supply store, a "paint your own pottery" unit, a sugar paste artist -
all with work areas where classes seemed to be taking place - and then,
Oh Joy! - a charming Miniatures shop which just sang to me to enter.

What is it about some places that just invites you to want to walk
through the door? I am always enticed, of course, by the sight of dolls
houses and all manner of mini items, but there was something more than
that here - I'm sure its the glow of enthusiasm emanating from certain
proprietors, and this was certainly the case with this little shop.

Called "Finishing Touches", the owner, Sue Shea, has made a speciality of creating many hand crafted items, especially finished tableaux that can be popped straight into a dolls house and look as if they have always been "lived in" - just like that. A piece which particularly caught my eye was a hall coat stand, complete with pretty hat, packed parcel and a basket of flowers - just delightful.

Sue is a true enthusiast - within minutes, we were oohing and aahing together about my "Princess" find, chatting about the Marlborough Dolls House Fair (yes, I've missed it again, by just two weeks!) and drooling over the perfection of the Reutter porcelain and the Glenowen furniture, from both ranges of which she stocks numerous items - along with the best priced and most varied dollshouses that I have seen in a long time. Sue is also an expert miniature florist - some of her arrangements were just gorgeous.

Though small, (and only recently opened) this little shop is perfectly formed, tremendously friendly and already on my list of places to run away to with Liz!

Finishing Touches is at Studley Grange Craft Village, near Wroughton, in Wiltshire

And Who Knows....Where the Time Goes?

This is my beloved son........
Hugh was born twenty one years ago today. He has brought nothing but sunshine and joy into my life  and continues to do so for everyone that he meets.

Happy Birthday Darling.

Six months old, and, unbeknown to me, just storing up the energy to bawl his way through a (rare) grown ups dinner party!

Two and a half years old - just started at Norland Nursery School

Seven years old, at Thorngrove Prep School - always smiling

Risen through the ranks at school - Deputy Head Boy at nearly fourteen years old

Sixteen years old - practising to be a Rock Star - off to a Korn concert

Living the Dream - receiving his Diploma in Music (Vocals)  three weeks ago - Stage One in becoming the Rock Star.

Though stardom would be fun, Hugh is wise enough to know that it's mostly a dream. This guy only wants to sing, write songs and play sax. Music is his passion - any chance he gets to perform, it is a passion he can share. So, until stardom comes..... the love of music is enough for him.

Continue to have a wonderful life, my son.