In December, keep yourself warm - and sleep.

….. Or so it says in a dear little book some sweet old ladies gave me after I had done a
Christmas Talk for them this week. But sleep is the last thing we want to do, with so many lovely things going on at this time of year.

Following a period of very heavy rain recently, the weather has at last turned seasonal. We woke to see the early morning sun gleaming low in the sky, lighting up capricious tendrils of mist lying just above the pastures beyond our garden. By the time I managed to photograph the scene it was already fast-changing.

Whilst I had my camera I just had to take a picture of the rambling roses on the fence outside our sitting room window. They don’t seem to understand that it’s wintertime, and are still producing fresh flowers.

We decided to make the most of the sunshine (albeit rather cold) to walk round the village and beyond, to deliver our Christmas cards to friends and neighbours (together with my current Hall Committee Minutes). We stopped on the old stone bridge over ‘our’ river, to find the water really fast-flowing and so much deeper than usual. – not surprising I suppose, given the rainfall during recent days. John stopped to photograph the ivy growing thickly over the ancient stonework, and his picture seems to fit these lines from the same gifted book…..

“The Ivy, of our native flowers
That now among the latest pours
It’s pale green bloom, and ripes it’s seed
Of black and shining balls to feed
Impervious to the winter’s frost,
The little birds …..”

We were out much longer than planned, as of course we stopped to chat to lots of people en route, returning just as Christmas lights were appearing in windows and around front doors. And our own lights too, on timer switches, provided a warm and festive welcome.

Off this evening to our Orchestra Christmas party …… ‘tis the Season to be jolly!

NO .... NO .... November!

Well, we’ve finally had to admit defeat and accept that summer has finished. September and October were so very mild, in fact surprisingly warm, and we were often able to sit and sun ourselves with our after-lunch coffees. The sun cream came into use again after a washed-out August, and John even had to bring out his trusty old panama to protect his thinning barnet.

Then last weekend our own measure of the season’s end took place. Our moving scenery, in the form of a herd of gradually fattening cattle, suddenly disappeared from the field beyond the paddock. We hoped we were mistaken, and that they were busy chewing the cud in an area of pasture which we couldn’t see from our garden, but as the days have gone by without sight of them, we have had to accept that they are probably by now vacuum-packed joints in a local supermarket. We miss them so much – they have been part of our lives since the end of April when they arrived as frisky young beasts, excitedly exploring their beautiful new surroundings from where on a clear day, it is possible to see Glastonbury Tor (not that they would have been fussed about that!)

The farmer obviously knew a thing or two, for no sooner had he sent his cattle to market, than the rains came. And how! We have been lashed by severely wet weather, and very high winds, and for good measure had a most spectacular electric storm one evening, which lit the whole sky with far more brilliance than we saw on Fireworks Night. As a result the cattle-less field has become very waterlogged, and we can see the puddles gleaming in the sunshine which dares to peek out between great downpourings of rain. Not that any of this is really surprising – the area is part of the Somerset Levels, and indeed it seems that the name ‘Somerset’ itself means ‘land of the summer people’, the flatlands presumably always having been decidedly soggy in winter.

The few remaining flowers in the garden have given up the fight and are sprawled untidily everywhere, awaiting a decent dry spell when I can get out and tackle them. The trees are fast losing their truly magnificent autumn colours, the leaves being blasted by the wind and rain.

The last roses of summer.


Roll on Christmas ! ..........

These Boots were Made ...........

A sad day today ...... I have had to consign my much-loved old boots to the bin.

These wonderful boots belonged to Kim when she was living in Oregon, and one time when we were over there she passed them on to me as they no longer fitted her. To my great delight they DID fit me perfectly, and were far superior to anything I would ever have bought for myself. They had been bought at Nordstrom, a rather up-market American store, and were in quality soft leather, with a dark fleece lining.

Those boots lived on my feet throughout the winter months for what must have been at least ten years. They have walked the streets of New York, and the country lanes of Normandy. They have ta'en the high roads and low roads of Scotland, and covered hundreds and hundreds of shopping miles in towns and cities within a wide radius of our home.

One of the few upsides of the end of summer , and chillier weather, was to bring my boots down from the attic once again. I much enjoyed giving them a good wax and polish - the leather responded so well to loving care - and then the sheer pleasure of snuggling my feet into them once again, after months of summer sandals.

I brought them down today, but could see one sole breaking away from the upper, and then remembered how last winter they had begun to let water in. In spring I had packed them away with my winter woolies, unable to bring myself to part with them.

Life will never be the same again! Those boots nestled so comfortably under winter trousers, and shoes just don't cut the mustard. I shall HAVE to look for a replacement pair, but can't begin to afford anything as luxurious again . M.&.S. here I come ....

Farewell old friends, I mourn your loss. O sole mio.

Everso 'CROSS' Scarecrows

Here in the village we have just enjoyed a Scarecrow Fun Weekend. I couldn’t believe the extent of creative genius lying hidden in this beautiful rural haven, which blossomed amazingly in gardens all round the village on Saturday morning. Happy hours were spent meandering along the lanes, meeting up with friends and neighbours exchanging gossip and appreciating the exhibits. Passing cars, which usually career through our village ignoring the 30mph signs, crawled along instead with windows wound down, and happy faces peering out.

There were over 50 scarecrows on view, but here is a taste of some of those I found particularly appealing.

Neighbours across the road from us celebrated a wedding that very day ….. so took the opportunity to join in the fun. Thankfully the weather was fine, so the bridal couple were able to leave the village church and ride their own horses a mile or so to the Wedding Reception.

This fabulous Pirate won the prize for best single exhibit.

…… and this amazing piloted aeroplane, and marooned parachutist, won the best tableau.

Topical scarecrows included a superb Michael Jackson, and such a clever tableau ‘Catching Swine Flu’ (see the flying pig, and butterfly net!)

Nursery rhymes were well represented .. Mary, Mary, and Little Miss Muffet.

Others included a fisherman, centurion, crow, caterpillar, and gardener (excused gardening with a very nasty looking foot injury!)

.

A skier careering down the roof must have taken some ingenuity to set up …..

…. And I loved this Scarecrow, made redundant at Harvest Time after sterling service out on the fields all summer, who was busy filling in his Benefits Form.

Some say that nothing much happens in the country, but what with us both getting First Prizes in the Photography, and Literacy Sections at the Village Flower Show the previous weekend, and a couple of jolly evenings during the past week supping with neighbours and enjoying quantities of good wine – needing only to stagger home on foot – I’d say that country living has a lot to recommend it.

Wonders and Wishes - a Postscript.

I decided that my new acquisition should have a name. It is beefy and robust, so has to be masculine. What better appellation for a Water Feature than …….. Walter (which is bound to be shortened to Wally, or Walt.) I suppose, of course, that this will lead to comments from the family along the lines of ..’I see you haven’t turned your Walter on today …’ But I can take it.

We have christened Walter this afternoon by taking polite afternoon tea out on the studio terrace beside him. We may both have been in our dirty gardening clothes, but we drank from fine bone china and partook of chocolate biscuits.

As I write it’s not far off yard-arm time, and still hot and sunny …… so I think we’ll be joining Walter for gin and tonic any time now!

Wonders and Wishes.

It is surprising sometimes what great pleasure comes from small unexpected things.

I spend a lot of time down in my cosy studio at the bottom of the garden, overlooking a paddock, and field of cows beyond. Whenever I avert my gaze from the computer screen there is always something fresh to take my attention. So it is that a stunningly perfect, single sunflower has appeared from nowhere right outside my window! I took a look outside in the tiny area between me and the honeysuckle entwined fence, and discovered it was growing from earth in an old abandoned pot. As I have never grown sunflowers before, I guess a bird must have deposited the seed, and somehow it has thrived. During the horrid wet weather we have suffered over the past fortnight, this unexpected bloom has provided such a very welcome burst of bright yellow sunshine right outside my window.

Why is it though that so much of what I tenderly nurture in the garden fails to do well, yet this casually scattered seed has flourished? I shall enjoy watching the cushion of sunflower seeds ripen, and will store them over the winter in the perhaps vain hope that just one or two might blossom for me next summer.

Another source of enormous satisfaction and sheer joy has been to have at last acquired something I have long coveted. A water feature! I have cherished the idea of hearing the sound of gurgling water outside in my little studio garden for as long as I have been lucky enough to have my own little eyrie. I bought a simple arrangement in a sale some 4 years ago, but it has stood parched and neglected not only because John wasn’t happy about the necessary requirements in the electrics department, but also because little grandchildren spent a happy time filling the narrow tube through the heavy concrete ball with small, immovable stones.

Then one day we casually called in at a Water Garden Centre, and discovered a really nice inexpensive set-up which came complete. Plug-in and go. Except paving slabs had to be lifted - and gaining access to the socket inside my studio was no easy matter – but the man of the house overcame all. And now water flows! I am ecstatic!

Few people are lucky enough to realize their dreams… but I have! Together with all my other blessings, too numerous to list, I now have a balcony to relax on (of which more another time) AND water sparkling in today’s sunshine as it cascades over a very pleasing little edifice. I can die happy! (… but not yet, hopefully.)

Into My Seventies ...

What a brilliant birthday surprise – after a mystery tour arriving at the beautiful Ston Easton Park in rural Somerset to find Jon and Sam and Kim sipping pre-lunch drinks in the drawing room. How wonderful! Lunch in such splendid surroundings was an absolute delight, and their company was SO much appreciated as I know that Jon is frantically busy workwise just now up in Edinburgh, and Kim is up to her eyes with bunting-making and school holidays. The sun shone, and we two were able to enjoy the extensive gardens late afternoon after they had all set off on their long journey back.

Jenny, Katy and William phoned birthday greetings from Oz at the start of the day, and on our return Kerry had left a phone message, and Sean even rang from his holiday base in La Manga . With 30+ cards, and lots of lovely presents, it was a great birthday!

Jaunty Jacket from John!

Next day we went over to Wales to pick up Kerry and take her to a lovely rural pub nearby where we all enjoyed a great lunch together, returning to the Clinic for afternoon tea, and to open Kerry’s presents. She was in really good form, so we all had a great day together.

Bless the bunch of you ……. Your Ma can’t thank you enough, and loves you lots. x

Wayside Flowers

We decided half way through Sunday that we needed a bit of exercise. A rare weekend at home all to ourselves, had resulted in us both eating and drinking too much – the pre-dinner drink, together with dips and crisps which himself hadn’t been able to resist whilst doing his Saturday shop – the ‘Saturday fry-up’ so seldom enjoyed these days – the profiteroles afterwards ….. and then a cooked Sunday breakfast …… all these excesses had left their mark.

We justified all this by having done a great deal of work on the house and in the garden – clearing gutters, cutting back bushes, mowing the lawns etc., but still our tummies felt heavy, and in spite of dull skies and frequent showers, we donned our raincoats and took a roadside walk to avoid mud underfoot.

Walking a loop from our home necessitated covering a section of the seldom-used footpath along the A38, and to our great delight we discovered SO many varieties of wild flowers growing there. And this in spite of all the CO2 generated by the generally constant traffic using the road. Once we started taking note of the different varieties we were amazed at just how many there were. We’re born and bred townies, both, so are unfamiliar with the names of everything we saw, but here are a few of them.

........ and we harvested just a very few to enjoy back home .......

Sporty, Spritely, Cerebral Seventies!

‘’You’re hardly ever in!’ and ‘Your mobile’s never switched on’
‘No’ and ‘No’ I reply, and from what I hear from my contemporaries, we oldies are all tarred with the same brush. Having spawned, supported, savoured, sometimes suffered, shared, and scattered our so-special sprogs, we find ourselves at a stage when we have just about enough energy to go and do our own ‘thing’ before time runs out.

So it was this week. We have just spent a couple of fun-filled days at Mary and Lewis’ lovely cottage right by Marlow Bridge. Mary is a superb cook, Lewis keeps a great cellar, and they are the best of hosts. The most delectable dishes appear on the table with seeming ease, conversation and laughter come thick and fast, and we finally totter back across the lawn from their luxurious summerhouse a little tiddly (well, a lot tiddly really) to find our way up to our bedroom sometime after midnight.

But that isn’t all we do ……. Though it ought to be more than enough for persons of our advancing years. After a ‘light lunch’ and wine we played a couple of 9-hole rounds of golf at their nearby Bisham golfcourse – its narrow fairways along the banks of the Thames making it more challenging than might be supposed. We braved showers of rain, but remained chirpy and determined throughout – even though the two ‘boys’ beat us ‘girls’ by a couple of holes.














Next morning we were up betimes and on Marlow Bridge at 9a.m. to watch the ‘Swan Upping’ – a delightfully olde-English tradition featuring red and white uniformed Swan Uppers, and gentlemen from a City Livery Company quaffing glasses of something suitably sustaining on the riverside lawns of the Compleat Angler Hotel before rowing off down the river, swan-bedecked flags flying.

After a healthy and nourishing breakfast (preceded by a couple of Alka Seltzers), we drove off up to Waddesdon Manor near Aylesbury. I had expected something on the lines of a sprawling country manor house, but found instead an enormous French-style chateau. I should have known better – it was the home of the Rothschild family before being bequeathed to the National Trust.

The vast gardens were full of statuary, topiary, fountains, and glorious flowers, as well as the most splendid aviary I have ever set eyes on. The fine sunny day made wandering round the estate a real pleasure, and then of course we needed to refuel at the Manor Restaurant……. delicious, thankyou Lewis.

The interior of the ‘palace’ (for it was nothing short of that) was just mind-blowing. Such chandeliers, such furnishings, so many glorious paintings by all the great masters, such fabulous ceramics, and so so many wonderful treasures …… it was totally stunning and truly magnificent. We even got to tour the Rothschild wine cellars, a catacomb of delight for we who consider ourselves ‘buffs’

People complain of this still being a class-ridden society. But just 100 years ago, only the privileged few would have been able to enjoy those opulent, totally sumptuous surroundings, whereas now we old-timers, as well as the world and his wife (and children) can roam such places for the price of a National Trust ticket. Indeed there is now a terrific Woodland Playground for children of all ages, which the Rothschilds would certainly never have dreamt of.

Such is the tenor of our days now that we have reached the rather pleasant plateau of the third age. It’s a great life, which we shall continue to take delight in until we’re ‘sans everything’.

Thankyou Lewis and Mary for such a happy time ……..and we look forward to your return visit with great pleasure.