In three days time, Liz and I will board a train from Waterloo station in London to Paris, on the first stage of our adventure to Venice. More here when I return......for last minute updates, visit Ladies of a Certain Age.
See you all in a couple of weeks time!
Can you think of a nicer way to spend an afternoon than browsing through secondhand books underneath cathedral arches, having lunch in a 250 year old pub, or wandering around the streets where Jane Austen lived - and died?
This is how Alec and I spend an afternoon when we want comfortable familiarity rather than adventure. We quite happily do the same things most times that we visit - first a look around the open air market, then a visit to the Oxfam bookshop.
On to the Cathedral Green, through the arches and the Cathedral precincts to the Wykham Arms, where the menu is always wonderful and the atmosphere embracing and courteous.
Until the rains of Autumn come, there is also an ongoing book sale underneath the arches at the back of the cathedral - so we always sit down to lunch with a pile of books to browse through. (It's a tough old life - but somebody has to do it!)
Nelson said that "England expects every man to do his duty" - you can see that such are the temptations on the menu at the Wykham Arms, that Alec is still carrying out his expectations - by eating - TWO puddings - for England!
While just around the corner from "The Wyk", I take a stroll (to walk OFF the pounds) past the very modest house where Jane Austen spent her last days.
O. lovely autumn afternoon, in this most lovely English cathedral city - am I not blessed with great good fortune to be so near to these delights, Gentle Readers?
Though it was a very wet day, it was a delight to walk along the back lanes of the ancient Oxfordshire village of East Hagbourne (mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086) on Thursday - to see the cottage gardens.
The flowers in these gardens are starting to "go over" a little now, leaves are beginning to yellow. Sunflower heads are starting to drop, seed heads are browning and bursting. But now the vegetables are coming into abundance.
The gardens I enjoyed a couple of days ago were what cottage gardens should be all about - vegetables and flowers mixed together in beautifully orderly beds, or scrambling about and falling over each other in beds, nooks and crannies of many shapes - corners of earth
utilised wherever they are found, beds shaped to fit in wherever a patch of earth is accessible.
Every last square inch of space seemed to be utilised including the yards, alleyways and paths alongside and behind the cottages as well as in the bigger, "proper" gardens that were on show. Every corner filled with flowers, fruit and vegetables, giving forth, from now on, the
Autumn crops of marrows, pumpkins, cabbages, runner beans romping up bamboo wigwams.
And in the orchards, apples bow the trees down with their weight, while free-range chickens feast on the windfalls.
These Little Edens are an inspiration - are you feeling inspired to plant something yourself next year - making your own little cottage garden? If not, just enjoy the beauty of yet another ancient English village - and wish these little characters being fed in the Church porch Godspeed on their Autumn journey south.
A few images of village life in peaceful little North Waltham,
just outside bustling Basingstoke in Hampshire, and only a few miles
from Steventon, the birthplace of Jane Austen.
Today the ducks were a dabbling, up-tails all, pelargoniums were cascading from pots and around cottage windows, and the old red telephone kiosk brought back memories of English daily life fifty years ago.
These gentle, delightful villages do not just exist on the covers of chocolate boxes - they are still here, minding their own business and getting on with things in an understated way, down leafy lanes, hidden from view, all over this island.
If you visit, and you promise not to disturb the inhabitants (human or animal) - I might even show you where to find more of them!
Lots of changes going on for me - probably good for me if only I could
see the wood for the trees - but at the moment, the trees cast long shadows.
So I do what I've done before - I take refuge in gardens - my own - my friends, any garden that will have me. I get down close to the earth, to dig, and plant, and not think too much - other than where the next planting will be sited.
And I visit other gardens...the first images here are taken on a walk around the village of Blewbury in Oxfordshire -
it's difficult not get inspiration and solace from the peace and beauty of an ancient English village in June.
I've been trying to do a lot of work in Autumn Cottage garden around the pond this weekend (though the bug which has plagued me since returning from Portugal is still not gone, so "work" in the garden has consisted of 15 minutes work and five minutes rest/collapse!). Raining today, so not so much done, as the weedy area - the last to get a layer of bark chippings, has already hardened, making it difficult to pull the weeds. The showers will moisten it - I should be able to do more tomorrow.
On Friday, I spent an "R&R" afternoon with my dear friend Liz. We "mooched" around the local Antiques Centre, (where I found a carved screen and the Italianate pottery cornucopia of vegetables that now sits as a "bit of fun" in the garden) - had a nice pub lunch surrounded by
hanging baskets and overflowing tubs of flowers, and then returned to her house and garden.
It's the sort of house and garden that make me rush home and wield the planting fork again! Here are some images of the afternoon to enjoy while I wait for the rain to stop :-)
Haunted by too many ghosts to stay inside right now, so this afternoon, to Avebury - site of the striking, mystical, prehistoric stone circle in Wiltshire. It was a gloriously sunny day and the village, which sits in the middle of the stone circle, was not too busy with visitors (the numbers of which can become overwhelming at times).
Instead, the only abundance was manifest in the roses which have started to smother the fronts of village cottages and announce that Spring is over and Summer is really here!
I was also able to visit the Henge shop, to pick up a book on dream work and give myself the gift of a lovely Celtic knot necklace to inspire me when working in my journal writing workshops.
I had hoped to visit Avebury Manor and garden, owned by the National Trust - but wouldn't you know it? - today was one of the two days in the week on which it is closed. C'est la vie - means I will have to make another visit sometime soon.
For now, just walk the stones, enjoy the peace and smell the roses with me.
Rejoicing in the spring sunshine, we ventured forth on Saturday to our
much loved City of Winchester.
Winchester of the Romans, Winchester of the Pilgrims, coming in from Southampton and up to Winchester before travelling on to the shrine of
St Thomas at Canterbury, the Winchester of Queen Mary 1st, marrying the Catholic Phillip of Spain in the Cathedral - the Winchester of Jane Austen, who died and is buried here.
Just around the corner from the house where Jane died is this little church, built over the gate arches, and dedicated to St Swithun, Bishop of Winchester in 852 AD. His shrine was said to be second only in importance to that of St Thomas in Canterbury, until it was destroyed during the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1538.
Swithun had been buried, at his wish, in a humble grave in the Old Minster churchyard, but several years later, it was decided to move his body to a more illustrious position inside the Cathedral. It is said
that the Saint disapproved of this move, and caused the transporting of his mortal remains to be halted by torrential rain - thus, St. Swithun's Day (15th July) is even now waited upon with trepidation , for if it shall rain upon that day then so it shall for forty days more!
"St. Swithun's day, if thou dost rain,
For forty days it will remain;
St. Swithun's day, if thou be fair,
For forty days 'twill rain na mair."
There is now a modern long distance footpath leading from Winchester to Canterbury, and known (unsurprisingly) as "The Pilgrim Way". It would be a challenge to walk part or all of this, would it not? Hmm - a challenge which I might explore further as summer comes.
It's always nice to have a bit of a silver lining to even the smallest
grey cloud.
Today my much loved old Ford Granada car went to the Happy
Crunching Ground - but it makes me feel a bit better to know that,
though it is officially being scrapped, it is actually going via the
Royal Berkshire Fire and Rescue Service, who will use it to practice
rescue procedures, ("cutting out passengers, and sometimes we set them
alight!"), before it is finally destroyed.
This car was wonderfully comfortable to drive and has carried me and the
family on many adventures, so it is very sad to see it finally go. But
it was also a gas guzzler and was many times the biggest car in the car
park, so finding a space could often be a bit of a devil .
Time moves on, and so must I, but it is one more event that reminds me of the
passing of another era. Well done, thou good and trusty servant!
Liz and I did one of our famous "runners" today. We had got together to
drink tea and bemoan the state of our own particular worlds (well, mine
actually, she has just returned from a week in the French Alps so was
feeling decidedly full of bonhomie!), when the phone rang and another
friend, Jakki, asked if we were up for sitting by the river (Thames) at Streatley and drinking coffee. Were we!
A couple of hours later, we were full of coffee, a glass of wine,
somosas, Calimari and spring rolls......we had watched a couple of kites
(the feathered kind) wheeling over the river, and we were invited to
visit Jakki's home-in-the-building, high *up* on the Berkshire *Downs* (I
know - go figure :-).
But not before Liz & I had had our regulation visit to the antique shop
just across the river, after which we drove up to Jakki's house and took
a tour around the property. Oh, to see the snowdrops out now, along the
stream, oh to walk past the quaint, historic village houses, with the pale spring sunlight shining at last - it was heaven!
The house is being built on farm land - hence the presence of the geese
and all the other sorts of bric a brac and curiosities that old farms
seem to collect - a magical mystery tour around each corner, that put a
spring into both our steps.
And the cardboard box ? Well, I found it in the antique shop for five pounds - and this is what it contained.
25 little birds, 15 sheep and lambs, a farmer and his cow. All hand carved from wood - the birds then gessoed and hand painted, the sheep all with wood shaving wool and all of them bursting with character.
They are all old - and I am wondering if the birds are Indian (there is a guinea fowl or two in the collection, and their construction is similar to that of a set of Indian servants that I have in my possession). I'm thrilled with them - I find carved wood of any sort fascinating, and regular readers will know of my passion for old toys. What could be more fun than to have opened an old, brown cardboard box and found this treasure inside? It has turned out to be a very good day after all!
This evening's entertainment was a demonstration of whirling fire-poi
from my son Tim, who is studying Performing Arts and has a particular
fascination with Circus skills. Since he has hair that is *much* longer
than shoulder length, it was imperative that his very silly woollen hat
was worn - in addition to which, there were buckets of water and a fire
extinguisher to hand.
The show was spectacular - stills cannot really do justice to the
excitement of watching our very own whirling fireman! He was encouraged
by his cousin Jack, (a student architect who actually rather LIKES dollshouses -
Yesssss!), who is visiting from Australia. Jack also has a faster camera
than me that can record good short bursts of video as well - so he has
quite a nice memento of one of the evenings he spent with cousin Tim at Aunty Roz's house. Roasting chestnuts by the fire it was NOT :-)
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