Autumn Cottage Diarist

On a Grey November Day - a World Coloured with Magic

Granny Weatherwax & Nanny Ogg (from the Map of Lancre) - Paul Kidby, 1998

I'll hold my hands up to say that I have never read a Terry Pratchett book to the end. I've tried - but they are just not my cup of tea. But I've spent the morning in the medieval cathedral city of Salisbury with a devotee of Mr. P's literature (my husband!) and am compelled to say that I could not have had a nicer or more interesting time. We visited the 'Terry Pratchett - His World' exhibition now on in the Salisbury Museum * - an affectionate overview of Sir Terry's life, combined with an exhibition of many of the works of one of his major illustrators, Paul Kidby.

While I'm not an avid reader of TP's books, I am a great advocate of the power of story-telling, and this exhibition emphasises that importance. It also encourages 'adventures in authorship' (or any other creative endeavour), most strikingly by relating the story of the comments that his headmaster made about him when he was but SIX years old…that he 'would never amount to anything'. The world knows now that that was very far from the truth, but it still hurts to read that 'the pain of somehow being inferior was hard to shake off'. Words stick and are so very powerful. He does, however, go on to pay tribute to his mother, the person to whom he ascribes his discovery of the skills of reading and writing - 'she taught me to read with love, care and affection'. THOSE attributes are even more powerful.

'The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents' - Paul Kidby, 2002 - illustration for children's book

The early part of the exhibition shows his rise in productivity and popularity, creating, amongst many others, 41 novels in the 'Discworld' series of books.

The much-loved cast of characters of the 'Discworld Massif' - Paul Kidby, 2014

Sadly, the later displays describe the tragic affliction which befell him - a form of early onset Alzheimer's disease, Posterior Cortical Atrophy - which particularly takes away not only memory but also the ability to read or type. Could anything have been more cruel a blow to this ultra-imaginative author and storyteller? I had tears in my eyes after reading his description of the effect that this had on him - but was also uplifted by how much effort he put into being the voice of all those who cannot shout for themselves at such a time. He was 'high profile' and certainly got us all to sit up and take notice at this previously shady and hidden away illness - and for that, I think, many have come to admire him. It has also been said that - through his characterisation of Death - that he has helped many people to fear The Inevitable just that little bit less; another gift for which many have expressed gratitude.

'At last, Sir Terry - we must walk together...'

'Check Mort' - Paul Kidby, 2011

 'Terry died on 12th March 2015 at home, surrounded by his family and with Pongo, his cat, asleep on his bed beside him' - Rob Wilkins, Literary assistant and executor

A recreation of Sir Terry's office - always inspiring to see a creative person's workspace

'Death on Binky' - Paul Kidby, 2000  ('I am Death, not Taxes - I turn up only once')

Memorial artefacts distributed after Sir TP's death

The 'Wall of Love' - messages left by fan readers at the exhibition...

...including this one, from another Word-Magician

A lifetime of achievement and bringing delight to others

'The Imaginarium of Professor Pratchett' - Paul Kidby, 2017

To make people think more, laugh more, enquire more, discover MUCH more and, perhaps, to be unhappy just a little bit less seems to be the legacy of Sir Terry Pratchett; if it is, then I don't think it's a bad memory of oneself to leave behind... do you?

(I would like to express my gratitude for the permission given by Paul Kidby to allow mobile phone photographs to be taken of his works. Thank you for your generosity, Sir.)

* entry to Salisbury museum, including extensive permanent displays and the Pratchett exhibition - £7.50 (adult)

Refuge from the Rain

'Come inside...' - the inviting interior of the potting shed at Mottisfont

In the middle of summer, this is the sort of day that holidaymakers hate and gardeners love. It is pouring down with rain, has been since 8 am and is well settled in to go on for the rest of the day.

It can be miserable to be away from home and all that is familiar in this sort of weather, trying to find something to do with the children - or without - that is under cover. But if you are a gardener, you can always retire - to the greenhouse, the potting shed or the summerhouse!

Here are some images - from home and away - of the cosy pleasures that can be gained when taking shelter from the rain. The first are from the walled garden at Mottisfont Abbey, where the National Trust have called in theatrical designers to reconstruct a potting shed; it is part of their 'Storyscape Project' and  many of the articles in there allude to the accomplished horticulturalist and rose-grower Graham Stuart Thomas, who set up the collection of Old Roses in the walled garden at Mottisfont in the 1970's.

Notebooks and illustrations of Old Roses

Terracotta pots and tins for seeds...essential minutiae in old gardens

The second are much closer to home - the latest incarnation of the summerhouse here at the cottage - also, in its own way, a Storyscape; a place where my friends sit with me, tell me their own stories and conjure up new ones from the inspiration they (and I) get there, surrounded by peace, quiet, harp music, wildlife and books.

Some new pictures added to the wildlife collection

'Spring Spirit' - Hares by Jane Keay - a two pound greeting card in a one pound frame...

A place for fairies and fancy - but don't be late for a very important date!

Twinkly lights and candleholders - (new ones bought for pennies, bearing images of my favoured dragonflies)

It's just a tiny space, but I do have such fun creating a place for pondering and creativity. If you also have a much loved little refuge - do tell me something about it!

The most important furnishings in any room...

 

 

 

 

Are You Ready??

Test

Ahem. Oh, dear me - my ears and whiskers!! Now where was I before I so rudely interrupted myself ? Ah, yes - I was in the garden, wasn't I? and that is where you find me once again, dear readers. I have not 'gone to ground' completely, just scurrying around, doing other life-stuff things…which have included a return to University studies, and the piloting of some new writing workshops.

These days, I do communicate online mostly via my Facebook friends network, but the essence of those 'instantaneous' posts - however well thought through they may be, is that they are - by being instantaneous - also scrolled away in an instant. I have pondered this, and decided that - though the Blog format seems to be waning in popularity in some quarters, it is also a format through which I can get to know a poster more, by having an easy, public archive, compiled over a period of time, though which I can browse and learn.

So I have decided that there might still be a place for 'Autumn Cottage Diarist' to post here on this blog - hopefully with the same result - that we can become longer term, rather than only instantaneous acquaintances - and maybe friends. So here I am, flawed but hopefully honest and real, ready to dive into 2015 with enthusiasm. I hope you will come along for the ride…or maybe just walk, stroll or ride? Whatever your means of transport, I will once again welcome you on the journey.

But yes, it is to the garden here at Autumn Cottage - and to other gardens and places in the natural world, that I return at the beginning of this year, to return me to the Real, after the pleasant but somewhat artificial trappings of Christmas; trappings that I enjoy when I am in control of them, but despise when they become more in control of me. Such a fine balancing act to ensure that the two states do not tip over, one into the other, wouldn't you say?

We've been blessed in the UK with some first-class wintery days over Christmas -  of frost and freezing nights but clear, brilliant days when all colours have seemed to sing. The images below are some of the places I've been fortunate enough to visit this past week.

But while I am 'hunkered down' in the dark depths of winter, I am also finding my own spiritual nourishment by partaking of a year-long writing and otherwise creative course (both through exciting packages through the post and online) based on the Celtic festivals which occur around the Wheel of the Year, and incorporating story, memoir, myth, fairytale, ritual and an exceptionally interesting community of women living diverse lives in many countries on the planet. All with an interest in the interconnectivity between all human and non-human beings and the lands which we inhabit. The course is called 'Singing Over the Bones'  - I cannot recommend it too highly - and you can, if you wish, find more about it here.

Now - are you all ready to leap into 2015?? Here we go, then…hold hands and hearts, hang on to those around you… and - all together…..JUMP!!!

 

Last writing group of the year

Making the kitchen door garland - pheasant feathers, holly and a pine-cone scale heart...

Finding a cosy place by the fire

...and in the conservatory...

Whilst outside...

The frozen pond at the Sir Harold Hillier Gardens, near Romsey

The Winter Garden - all decked in snowflakes as part of 'The Nutcracker' trail

A serene late afternoon walk along the river...

...as the sun sets on the face of the Abbey

Pip is keeping watch over the open spaces

...while the Old Man of the Woods guards the woodland walk here at the cottage

A light shines to welcome friends in the darkness of the Old year...while we wait for the light  of the New one to return.

A year full of light to you in 2015, my friends!

Saved from the Jaws of Destruction!

Every so often I feel the need to 'run away' from the humdrum domestic environment for an hour or two; in my case it is almost always to the little town of Hungerford in West Berkshire, which is about a twenty minute drive from Autumn Cottage. When I arrive, my well trodden pathways usually include a ramble around the Antiques Arcade, which I have been visiting for at least twenty five years.

Through that hallowed portal, my feet always carry me first to 'The Junk Shop' - not far inside the main door and a repository of a complete and mysterious miscellanea. Its contents span a spectrum from 'undiscovered treasures' (until they are discovered my me!) through weird and wonderful 'stuff' right down to the frankly trashy (but keeping in mind *always* that what is my trash will undoubtedly be another person's treasure - so there is a place for all of it).

A recent 'find' in the Junk Shop - watercolour of Wallingford Bridge, late C19th

After a first look in the Junk shop, I then make straight for 'Countryside Books' - the permanent showcase of Martin Smith, the second-hand and antiquarian book dealer from whom I have bought many, many treasures over the last fifteen years - some of which have sent me off on intriguing searches and  wonderful adventures.

Northern Golden Plover (Shorelands Summer Diary, C.T. Tunnicliffe,1952)

I had several happy 'finds' in Martin's unit yesterday - most particularly two books illustrated by Charles Tunnicliffe - whom I consider one of the finest wildlife illustrators of the 20th century.

His watercolours so skilfully capture the intangible but  essential nature of the animals (mostly birds)  which he closely observed over many years from his home on Anglesey - but it is also to his striking wood engravings that I am drawn - I think even more closely than his colour work.

Ruffs (Shorelands Summer Diary, C.T. Tunnicliffe,1952)

I also purchased a translation and printing of a fascinating illustrated journal, originally created by one of Napoleon's offiicers - on the ultimately disastrous Russian campaign. The artwork is talented, capturing the costumes of both invaders and invaded, the landscape and the gradual dawning that victory was about to turn into terrible tragedy of freezing and starvation as the Imperial army retreated through the cruel Russian winter.

Napoleon Outside Viasma, 30 August 1812 (Memoirs of Major Faber du Faur, 1812/2001)

I happily left the Arcade with these 'treasures of the day', making my way back to my car (which I park at a friend's house, some hundreds of yards away) but was distracted on my way by some brightly coloured china in the window of a charity shop on the other side of the road. Did I need more 'stuff'? - no, of course not, but…it was just across the road. No harm in looking!

Having peered into the window and discovered that the items which caught my eye were nothing that I wanted, I turned to go to the car - but the little voice on my shoulder was whispering to me.  'Oh, go ON  - no harm in just taking a look inside, is there?'. I was unable to resist the little voice!

I poked around the shop for a minute or two, but there were no other visible items of any interest, and my bag of books was now getting heavy. I asked to put it down near the counter while I took a VERY last look around, and as I did so, there, beside my bag, was a box of books which looked neglected and in poor condition, but the Inner Radar deemed worthy of taking a look at. All piled in a jumble, and pretty 'tatty' but some old illustrated children's books were included on top - which I have collected for years. So I asked the price - and was told that they were not really for sale, but had been placed there ready to go 'for pulping - they are old and damaged and nobody wants them'. Ahem - at least one person did!

I asked permission to look through the box - which was happily granted, and was excited to find, further down in the box, two old and stained but interestingly covered cookery books (dated 1890) and also a tiny little leatherette bound book with 'Burial Service' embossed on the front. Treasure was mine! and even better - treasure rescued at the last minute from almost certain destruction.

Along with two modern, but original and very nicely framed little watercolours of Venice, I offered ten pounds for the lot. I left the shop with a very happy smile on my face.

My smile got bigger when I came home. Looking through the little 'burial book' I discovered both the full name and date of burial of the person (Captain John Wright Westby - 03 May 1912) for whom it had been used. The name was printed inside the front covers of what seems to be a pro-forma book produced by the undertakers, Hanningtons of Brighton). Inside one of the other books was inscribed a woman's name (Constance Westby) with the same surname as that of the deceased in the Funeral Service. Ten minutes of an internet search has already furnished details of his marriage, (to Charlotte Sarah Constance Westby) his military career and - sadly - the death of their son on the Somme. What more of their story can I now discover? This treasure hunt is waiting for me to begin.

This is the delight of these finds to me - the books themselves are worth almost nothing as saleable books - but to me, the details inscribed incidentally inside their pages both tell a story in itself and offer the possibility of further searches and revelations  which may take me to visit places and meet people who are as yet unknown to me..

The second 'cookery' book is intriguing in its own right. It is actually a manual for bakers and confectioners - filled with advertisements for bakers supplies and recipes for all areas of the profession.

Interesting in itself, it is much more so to me, as it is exactly the sort of book my grandfather - also a baker and confectioner - would have consulted. More story telling - more 'filling in the gaps' - more many happy hours spent discovering the bigger picture.

Not a bad outcome for an afternoon of running away!