Rattling On...

Last of the summer outings...

Yesterday saw us off to Bronte country and the Parsonage museum in Haworth. we've been before some years ago but the girls wanted to go again and I'd seen that at the moment the costumes from the latest Jane Eyre film are on display. Unfortunately indoor pictures aren't allowed.

It was putting down a deluge when we left home, the roads were flooding and it was really cold. We found it better when we arrived but it's obviously been bad there as the church was closed due to the roof leaking and the graveyard was very muddy as a lot of the soil had washed onto the paths. Which is not a problem compared to what has happened in the past...

'Pollution' caused the water in Howarth to be undrinkable. Just think... or don't!

The place is, of course, a pilgrimage for Bronte fans and there is a fair bit to see that actually belonged to them. Most of it rather poignant and some of it creepy even.

We walked down to the village and had some lunch, then went into Rose and Co to soak in the vintage fittings, lovely smells and sample some potions.

Then the thunder started, the rain followed and our peace was shattered as every Japanese tourist there also came into the shop, and there were lots. The only word we understood was 'kawaii', which was squealed often and loudly as all the teenage girls spied the cupcake soaps, lipbalms in tins and dinky boxes of Yorkshire tea. Really, they buy tea as a souvenir... they were charming. The girls, not the boxes of tea.

A horrible, traffic-jammed drive back saw it drier at home for a while. However, our old Victorian skylight has given up the ghost and needs to be replaced as water has run in. Over a hundred years of service, but this 'summer' has proved too much. Man coming next Saturday.

Later a knock at the door. Next door neighbour to say they have pigeons nesting in the loft, which means... Man coming on Monday.

Pain à la banane...

Banana bread sounded dull for a title so I Frenchified it, I made it à la française. Possibly, French grammar not being my forte.

The recipe is Nigella's, from the Domestic Goddess book, but free on-line as well. I used hazelnut pieces and raisins as they're what I had in, and I scattered some brown sugar crystals on top for added crunch. Oh, and I didn't do all the separate mixing gig, just banged it all in one bowl and combined. It was fabby. Eventually, because...

I lined the tin, added the mixture , put it in the oven and then had a tiny taste from the mixing bowl. Something I don't usually do but it must have been fate. I had left out the sugar and it wasn't a pleasant modification.

I got it out of the oven, slopped it back into the bowl and stirred in the sugar before re-lining the tin and putting it to cook again. No harm done. And I'm not boasting here (much), but mine isn't sunken in the middle like Nigella's. Boo yah.

I have made this recipe before, sort of. Nothing ever seems to be made the same way twice. That wasn't sunken either...

Lock up your cabbages...

I think this is a Large White, if it isn't then it's certainly a Small White! A Cabbage butterfly in any case. The identification sites are confusing: males have one spot/no spots, females have two spots/one spot, the grey on the wings is horizontal/vertical...and so on. I think maybe there are lots of variants, and we'll leave it at that!

I haven't seen many butterflies here this year, even considering there haven't been a lot in previous years. I get thousands of bees but obviously don't grow the kind of plants butterflies favour, though they do like the phlox that are flowering at the moment. Funnily enough, I just glanced out of the kitchen window and there was a pair of Whites dancing about.

I need to get some more butterfly attracting plants, I'm not bothered about the inevitable caterpillars as the birds will just have more to feast on. Buddleia is an obvious one, verbena as well. I have sedums, honeysuckle and lavender which they also like. Purple seems to be a common theme when I look on gardening websites...I wonder if this is a coincidence?

If anyone has any particular recommendations please let me know. Remember, though, that it must be very hardy and frost tolerant to survive here.

A small success...

It might not look much, it isn't much I suppose, but it's a start.

I love hydrangeas and have been trying to get them to grow in the garden, more precisely to flower. This one was planted a few years ago and has at last deigned to show off in pink glory. They are mostly pink around here and, unless you want to fiddle with additives, it looks like that's what my soil will produce as well.

This was one I bought in a pot originally and put in the garden when it had stopped flowering. I do that with almost all the plants and spring bulbs I buy in pots, this must be a very hardy variety to get through the last two winters.

I'm resolved to plant up my own choice of bulbs into containers this year. I have the bulbs, I have the planters, I just need to remember to put the two together at the right time. Which is the bit I seem to find most difficult. Every year...

Take cover...

Yesterday we went off to Stockport to see the Air Raid Shelters. They're right in the centre of town, behind Primark! I wasn't sure what to expect.

They are a series of tunnels dug into the sandstone in 1938. The temperature is a damp 10^oC all year round and water deeps slowly through the rock, causing rather attractive moss to grow on the ceilings of the many tunnels. It's also caused the original wooden benches, which would have run the length of each wall, to rot. There are modern replacements in some areas. It's all 40ft underground...

There were lots of dug outs, small side tunnels that formed ARP posts, a lock-up, nursing mothers' room and tool sheds with spades for use if there were a direct hit. And there were facilities...

Toilets...what can I say? They are massive clay pipes, cunningly re-purposed with wooden seats added over the couplings to make a series of rather cosy latrines. A perfect example of make-do. Squares of newspaper hang nearby. I think originally there were hessian curtains at the sides and front of each stall for a really minimum amount of (dark) privacy. The big thing here though is that these were flushing toilets, a cistern filled and emptied automatically every few minutes. It flushes along the whole length in a rushing torrent. Luxury.

Towards the end there's a mock up of an Anderson shelter that civilians could install in gardens and such, there were some at my senior school that had been converted into storerooms.

Obviously it's quite dingy in parts in terms of taking photos, but this adds atmosphere. What it was like with between 4000 and 6000 people in here I really can't imagine. If you were much over 5'8" or so you could only walk right in the middle of the tunnels as they are quite sparingly styled and you'd have to be on good terms with whoever you ended up next to, there can't have been many secrets in there.

Roger and Richard in the front of house were brilliant for information and entertainment. Roger sand Lily Marlene, in German, for me when we got discussing things in general. As you do. In all, well worth a visit if you happen to be in Stockport.

In other news: I decided to go to the doctor's as my face wasn't improving really. I'm still red and puffy, but now with bloodshot eyes as well. He asked lots of questions, we talked about allergy (he talked about anaphylaxis...), he issued some stronger antihistamines and booked me in for blood tests. This shouldn't have lasted a week. Specialists were mentioned. Great. It's not looking like it was the face cream, stopping using it should have stopped the reaction, it's now a matter of trying to find out exactly what is... could be a long job.

In which case, does anyone have a good knitting pattern for a balaclava/ski-mask?

 

Only when I laugh...

Right now I feel like one of those women on Ten Years Younger who get a shed load of cosmetic procedures gratis. Well, if you discount having to listen to members of the public deconstruct every wrinkle and bulge.

Anyway, you know the ones who have a chemical peel and look like they spent a year on a sunbed, all burned and scabby? Well, that's my face.

Only I didn't have a chemical peel, it was an allergic reaction. And it was bloody awful. Head like a balloon, swollen eyes, burnt skin and sore as hell. Three days later and it's less red, less swollen, still stinging and now peeling like something from a crappy B list horror film. Classy.

Worst bit is I'm not completely sure what caused it. It was either the chocolate brownie (pleeeeease, no!) or some organic propolis face cream that I bought as it's supposed to be good for dry skin...

As I applied some of this on the second day as well and the symptoms ramped up again, I'm erring towards this as the culprit. Oh, the irony...

Evening walk...

Beach:

a : a shore of a body of water covered by sand, gravel, or larger rock fragments

b : a seashore area

 

I suppose everyone thinks of 'beach' these days in terms of sand, sunbathing and possibly volleyball, following the Olympics!

Perhaps more often it should be called the shore or the coast. I like going to the coast when it's quiet, when it's raining and windy, when there aren't many people around. I can put up with 'beaches' on occasion, usually abroad with an expanse of cool blue sea to the front... who can't?

This lovely piece of shoreline is Cley next the sea of an evening. A few mad swimmers, dog walkers and sea fishermen along with what seemed like hundreds of divebombing swallows (picture 4 shows one skimming the pebbles) and some cheeky seagulls.

Not sure whether the tide was in or out... but it was very clean and the pebbles were most attractive in their uniformity. No shells to speak of, just bits of crab claw every so often.

Cley has a converted windmill that does B&B, wouldn't that be a perfect place to stay...

Fiddling with Terence's scones...

Well, to be more precise, I fiddled with his recipe for scones. Not too much, you understand, and only in the interests of experimentation. How? I hear you ask.

I couldn't be bothered to go down to the cellar to get butter so I used Lurpak spreadable instead. Which could have been a disaster but most decidedly wasn't. Terence advises only minimal handling of the dough and I did as I was told. The scones were incredibly light and the Spreadable rubbed-in in an instant. Success all round.

His is a lovely cook book, classic stuff and nice vintage styling. Very important as far as I'm concerned, being a fan of kitchenalia. In another life I'd have liked to have been a stylist on vintage type photo shoots. Or basically to have actually lived in a past era, but one with hair dryers and running water, please.

 

Tea at Emma's gaff...

A quick mid-week trip to Emma Bridgewater as No2 was overcome with the need to procure a teapot to take back to uni. Never one to shy away from a bit of pottery-perving I managed to restrain myself to bringing home just the one mug.

The cafe, as always, was irresistible. And full. With one table of the grumpiest people I've encountered for a long while. The only disappointment being that instead of a pot of tea you now get a teabag in a mug. Albeit a stylish mug.

Valhalla...

 

Valhalla brownies, from the book Scandilicious. With cherries soaked overnight in Kirsch. Around a million calories per look.

Valhalla is the mythical place those who died in combat are taken to by the Valkyries, there to join various kings, heroes and those who have succumbed to chocolate poisoning...

Just the ticket when it's bucketing down outside yet again and one is sleeping with a hot water bottle. Really, I am.

I haven't done much baking recently, so I thought I may as well break the fast with a worthy confection. One piece saw me off...

Walsingham...

Walsingham is known as the Nazareth of England, and on that basis I thought it was worth a visit. I went round the shrine and to the cafe they have there. I will say that pilgrims are well catered for and the grounds are amazing.

The village is also very picturesque and the golden weather vane of the shrine is visible at all times.

I also went to the Abbey, which is now a ruin following Henry VIII's rampages. You enter through what looks like a village shop, go into the Shirehall courthouse, now a museum, then go into the Abbey grounds. It looks ordinary enough until you round a bend and through the trees see this...

I just can't describe how massive and impressive it is, sitting on the velvet lawn with the sun beating down. And it's just a tiny part of what it once was. More photos, with even more on Flickr...

The grounds are beautiful, with a mown walk alongside the river. There were birds, bees, squirrels and damselflies dancing like fairies over the water. It was a very hot day but the trees provide lovely shade and people were discreetly picnicking on the lawns. I was actually surprised at how very quiet it was for the middle of the summer holidays.

If you're ever near Walsingham I can honestly say this place is more than well worth a visit.

Cromer...

I went to Cromer on two evenings. Once after a meal at the place I was staying with the purpose of a look round and bracing walk, both of which were sorted. The next visit was to have fish and chips on the pier, I went earlier on specially. But here are some photos before the tale...

So, the first evening I went to Cromer (pictures above) I found a carpark by chance, got my bearings and set off for a wander. It was nice and clear and there were plenty of people around doing the same thing. The pier was busy with people fishing and crabbing and queuing to get tickets for shows.

I couldn't find the carpark later, of course, and walked around my chosen landmark for what seemed like hours before finding someone who knew where I was talking about. I have a terrible sense of direction...

Two nights later I returned for my fish and chip supper (following pictures), it was earlier and very misty, a bad hair evening! The pier restaurant of course wasn't serving food that night... so I went to find a cafe.

One observation I'll make about travelling alone is that restaurants aren't keen on you taking up a table. It seems fine for two people to have a table for four, but not one person to have a table for two. Just saying.

My holidays, with added vintage...

I went to Holt in Norfolk, just so you know, it's a four hour drive from here. And I decided that I would try to do three things a day. Morning, afternoon and evening. This went pretty much to plan really and the weather was fan-bloody-tastic, hot and sunny the whole time. Bliss.

There's loads to do in Norfolk, well there is everywhere if you just look, but the one thing I really wanted to do was visit the Poppy Line, that's the North Norfolk Railway, a heritage line with steam trains and costumes and vintage...

So today's post is about my train journey from Holt to Sheringham, and back again!. I picked a day when it was steam both ways and I used the opportunity to have a look round Sheringham and eat in the station buffet. Here we go...

The countryside seen from the train is so different from here, flat and open. It's arable farming, fewer cows and sheep! Windmills and combine harvesters.

Back at Holt station and it gets even better as there's something else to look round. A railway carriage cottage, built in 1899 and lived in until the 1980s, It's furnished in mid 30s style and for any lover of vintage it's mouthwatering. More pictures...

It also has a little back garden with flowers and veg, and an outside loo in a little shed. Free entry, fantastic. At the station there's also a little museum and a model railway, all of this staffed by volunteers. And so well presented, it was just lovely. How to get back into Holt?

I sat on the top deck at the back and enjoyed the bumpy ride as we crashed through overhanging trees. A wonderful glut of vintage in the sunshine...

Milestone event...

This brand spanking new milestone has been installed in the centre of town, not far from the War Memorial. I think it's a great way to mark what has been a surprisingly compelling sporting event.

We watched the whole of the closing ceremony, and while I don't pretend to understand all the references (!!) I thought it was interesting...

I think what was left out, musically, was as fascinating as what was included. Eclectic, shall we say? I'm not sure what non-Brits thought of the whole affair but it seems to have been a resounding success if you believe what you read.

The Paralympics next, and I'm loving Channel 4's posters which say "Thank's for the warm up"...

Dunham Massey...

I'm back from my jaunt, and there are loads of photos to be sorted. But these are from a National Trust day out we had prior to that, I'm getting behind with updating...

This is Dunham Massey, and I'm unashamedly going to show you much more of the Downstairs than the Upstairs, if you get what I mean. The posh bit is lovely, but it's the working part- the kitchens, laundry and the nooks and crannies that interst me far more... hover over for a description (if any!) and there are loads more on my Flickr (click on the picture in the sidebar).

If you watch series like Downton Abbey you may have the impression that the servants were only marginally less lucky than the masters. Do not be fooled. You only have to look in the working parts of a house like this to see Work, the Hard Graft kind of manual work, everywhere. From boiling the water to wash the clothes, scything the massive lawns, milking the cows, backbreaking ironing, sweltering laundries and kitchens.

For me, contemplating these lives is far more interesting than wondering what the nobs found to do to fill their time. We are lucky, nowadays, to be able to call cooking an interest, gardening a hobby and housework an inconvenience.

I'm not saying I would have wanted to be a Downstairs Johnny but I think if I'd been of the landed persuasion I'd have bored myself to death or hit the bottle. Being a woman. The men, of course, could do all kinds of manly things. Mainly involving buggering off together and leaving the women to write letters at home.

Oh yes ladies, never take it all for granted....