Rattling On...

Pre Jubilee spree...

Yesterday I made the first of my Jubilee cakes, yes the first. Bring it on...

I did it yesterday as it involved the use of industrial amounts of food colouring and a little planning. I will leave it to you to decide, on Saturday, whether it was worth spending the whole morning beggaaring about.

Obviously, more icing sugar was flying round the kitchen and I found myself wondering if I should be wearing a face mask and goggles, if there were such a thing as baker's lung. You know, something nasty caused by breathing in all that flour and icing. If there is don't tell me.

The Flickr group pool is now set up. Please get joining so you can post your pics on Saturday. I'm planning my suitably themed blog post for that day and suspect no patriotically coloured item in the house will remain unconsidered. I've given up trying to think of clever and subtle ideas, I'm now just going for the bleeding obvious in all its glory. Red, white and blue. How difficult can that be? (Diamonds proved a little harder...)

We are having a Jubilee picnic for the whole school on Thursday and I have to organise an outfit as well. My requests for the department to dress in 50s inspired gear met with incredulous gazes. Sod them, I'm going in 50s with as much diamante as I can muster.

And as a last thought... when it says on a bottle of blue food colouring 'Washes off hands easily'... don't believe it.

Le Croissant...

I mentioned The Crescent yesterday, or at least the back of it. It's such a beautiful old building. Was... could be again if funding ever gets nailed down. Current talk is of it becoming some sort of spa hotel.

Quite frankly I don't think people would care if it became a bordello as long as just wasn't let to rot. Okay, maybe a few old fuddy duddies might...

The place is currently occupied only by birds and the occasional squatter. Nice...

I'm reminded here of a friend of my daughter's who in a French exam asked 'What's croissant in French?'

Sudbury Hall...

Sunday saw us off to Sudbury Hall on a lovely bright, if cold, day. It's about thirty miles from home and a pleasant drive. We went to the Museum of Childhood a few weeks ago when the hall was closed and decided on a return journey to see the rest. I'm glad we did.

I loved this place, it's elegant and stylish and a little understated. If you don't look up...the ceilings are incredible! Many of the interior shots for Pemberley (BBC Pride and Prejudice) were shot here, like Mr Darcy's study and the lovely hallway where Lizzie sees the portrait (not there now!!).

As always I loved the Downstairs, the kitchens and storerooms and such. My favourite room was the little bedroom at the end of the above pictures. Look at the size of the curtain pole...

I've posted lots of pictures on my Flickr if anyone wants more elegance. This Hall is well worth a visit, both inside and out and if you want to travel from the car park in style there's the option...

Sudbury Church was also open as there was a flower festival in full swing. Of course we went and I'll show you that tomorrow...

Calke Abbey...

Yesterday we went to Calke Abbey. It was heaving it down with rain when we set off, very windy and 2^oC. The house is just over 50 miles away and it was a horrendous drive, the roads flooded and littered with bits of tree-some of them quite large. We carried on undaunted thinking it was bound to be better when we got there.

Wrong. Well, it was three degrees warmer but just as windy and rainy. They'd delayed opening the house, and the church and gardens were closed 'due to the weather'. So, don't expect any pictures of the outside of the house, for those you'll have to click on the link and look at some ones taken in lovely sunshine!

Here, then, is a picture tour of the stately home abandoned in the early 1920s and left since then exactly as it was (sort of, explanations to follow)...

You first enter the working part of the yard, with stables and smithy...

After the working yard you meander through a bit of woodland towards the front of the house. I imagine in fine weather it's lovely, there are bluebells and what I think were cowslips but we didn't hang around...

Now we get into the house. It was gloomy and bloody freezing, not much Downton Abbey going on here. This must have been what it was really like back in the day when electric lights and central heating were but fantasies, because there's little of either. The house really has been kept as it was when handed to the National Trust in the 80s. Everything was catalogued and photographed and put back where it was found. The decision was made to keep it as a little slice of time, a country house in decay.

However, it was a little unsound and was going rotten with damp. So some structural work was done, and rot eradicated. Ceilings had to be replaced and even the original cracks were replicated when the new ones were put back in! Wallpaper was taken down, cleaned to kill the damp, and rehung. Hover over pictures for a brief explanation-if there is one...

The house is stuffed with stuff, the family over the generations were avid collectors, to the point of it becoming a problem. The last in the line was obsessed with taxidermy and if he couldn't shoot it himself he bought it in. Not to my taste.

The paintwork is scuffed, the carpets worn, someone loved the colour red- it's all over the place. The girls liked it here, after seeing Mr Straw's House I thought I'd love it as well. But I was lukewarm. Maybe the appalling weather affected the viewing, on a sunny day it would all look different, but then it was raining when we went to Mr Straw's as well. It just didn't have such a human feel to it for me, though it's fascinating all the same.

As things have gone rusty, dusty and mouldy (albeit if it's been cleaned and 'fake' cobwebs put back...really!) so has the house lost some soul. It doesn't, on the whole, look like the family are out for the day and may return at any moment. It's more like a creepy film set. Left me a little depressed to tell the truth.

The restaurant is ok and the grounds look amazing, we'll go back to see those and the church when the weather plays ball. As we left, after first taking a worng turn and driving up to the front of the house (whoops, but the attendant just laughed) we had to go over a cattle grid. It was overflowing with rain water and could just have been a big hole for all we knew.

We listened to the Disney CD in the car and sang along to all our favourites. Supercalafragilistic, expialidocious....

Little Moreton Hall...

On Sunday we went on our latest National Trust visit. This time to a building that's over 500 years old, and is the most crooked little house you ever did see. That's little in the relative sense, stately piles-wise. It is amazing and I wanted to share just some of it with you, so this post is long... but mainly pictures (hover over them for a brief description).

The house has a moat and is arranged round a little cobbled courtyard...

The windows are incredible, all leaded with tiny little panes. The long gallery runs along one side and is a tour de force, it is also a display of wealth.

The wood panelling and carving are beautiful, the walls ooze history, even the floors are interesting. Upstairs it looks like someone has used concrete (which is all cracked from the shifting of the house) but it's the original flooring made from compacted lime ...

The gardens are very attractive but not extensive..

 

And as I said, there's a moat around the house. Which in days of yore might not have been as attractive as it is today...

The garderobe (lavatory) is on the second floor, with an unglazed window, it juts out over the moat and the seat is suspended over fresh air. There's a bunch of lavender on the wall to hide smells and a bucket full of sheep's fleece bits to wipe your bum on. Tres eco. Don't suspect much hand-washing went on either.

The visitor toilets are somewhat less rudimentary and the Hall had the best eating facilities we've encountered so far at a National Trust house. The car park was free and there's a brand new shop and reception centre, very swish.

Elder daughter went on a school trip here when she was around 8 or 9. Since then she has wanted to live there. After yesterday's visit she wants to do so even more! (She'll be 20 next week)

Sudbury Hall...

Yesterday youngest and I went daytripping to Sudbury Hall, which you'll recognise from the inside as it was used for the Pemberley interiors in the BBC Pride and Prejudice series. You just can't escape Jane Austen.

It's 30 miles from home but there the sun was shining,  it was 7 degrees warmer (a full 12C) and not a raindrop in sight. Unlike what we left behind us.

We hadn't gone to see the hall this time, but the Museum of Childhood which is attached to it. It opened at 11 which is exactly when we arrived and it was heaving with small children whose families were letting them run riot, and some not so small ones who were even worse. Why take 10/11 year old boys to a museum and let them play tig games?

I took my camera in and did take a few pictures but the lighting was poor in general and some stuff I found hard to see...

...these bedroom mock-ups were on the ceiling. Frankly this is the sort of thing I find fascinating, but standing with my head thrown back is not my idea of fun. The middle room was most like my 70s experience of childhood. Abba poster on the wall, spacehopper and Scalextric track on the floor. My cousins-over-the-road had such a track (complete with grandstands, crowds and all sorts of other accessories) and we spent many a happy hour racing.

There was quite an emphasis on Victorian childhood with this schoolroom and a fireplace children can actually get into to see what it was like for sweeps.

There were clothes like these mourning outfits, play and party outfits. Lots of Victorian toys like massive dolls' houses, Noah's Arks, tin trains and wax dolls.

Then there was a leap to modern day toys with just a sketching over inbetween with some WW2 toys and such. I think adults would have liked a lot more stuff and a lot more detail, at least I would. The whole place is very geared to child visitors, which is a good thing, but for the cost of entry to these things nowadays there really should be more for those really into social history. Like me.

I would have loved to have seen more room mock-ups with the toys and clothes in them, with much more detailed information. Kids always skip those bits anyway so it wouldn't matter to them. The grounds are lovely and we'll be going back to see the Hall and gardens another time, maybe when more flowers are out.

We had to get back to go to the dentist and of course the nearer to home we got the more the clouds took on a different aspect.

Unsurprisingly it was still raining.

Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba ...

Oldest came home from uni for the weekend. For once the weather here was much better, to the tune of almost ten degrees. Unheard of, but wonderful weather.

On the way to the station on Sunday evening this was the sunset. The girls sang The Circle of Life from the Lion King film and it took me straight back to 1994 when the film was released and Oldest was just two.

I can even remember what she was wearing for her first trip to the pictures, and the little bag she carried everywhere. She adored the film, still does, they both do.

At Christmas I bought them this CD. A very popular present and highly recommended if you like a singalong. What's your favourite Disney?

Sunday Scrapbook...

Yesterday Youngest and I had a trip out. The National Trust is dusting off its properties for Spring and we thought we'd get in early.

Sadly only outdoor photography was allowed, due to some of the contents being privately owned and permissions not yet granted.

If you think you recognise some of the views you may well be right. You just might know this place as Pemberley.

Sadly, Mr Darcy wasn't emerging from the lake as we walked around it. Nor were Mr and Mrs Gardiner getting into their carriage by the archway. Nonetheless it's a great day out. Nice toilets, always an indicator of quality. As well as the decent coffee shop.

I shall be returning later in the year, as the National Trust are renovating the Butler's quarters and some Edwardian bedrooms. I went into the just-started butler part and it was fascinating even in that grubby state. I stood and talked to the volunteer for ages (No2 sloped off to look at the 17th century bedrooms) and was the only visitor down there. Obviously Downstairs isn't such a pull to most people!

There's quite a bit of interactive style activity if that's your thing. Dressing up clothes, a stage with chairs lined up and the original 'programme' from 1903. A nursery bedroom full of toys that can be touched and played with; giant dominoes, teddies on the iron bed, a spinning top and large dolls' house.

The other thing that I loved, and which is very unusual, is that you could walk through a lot of the rooms. As in they weren't roped off and you could really look at everything; like the armchairs where the flock had worn off the material as they'd been sat on so many times. Or the Jacobean bed where you could feel the drapes and run your fingers over all the carvings. Great for people like me who like to see original things warts and all, not just the fancy stuff.

One thing, though, don't drink before you go. There has been a bit of subsidence somewhere in the distant past. Floors slope, a staircase lists to one side and many things are a good six inches off level. It's a bit like being on a cross Channel ferry and you feel like you have to compensate by walking on a bit of a tilt.

Pride and Prejudice

Chapter 59

"My dearest sister, now be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?"

"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley."

It would take a strong woman to resist...

Jumble...

On Saturday I went to a jumble sale, one of only a handful I've ever been to. I remember the very first one I went to, with my Mother, my across-the-road-Aunty and my across-the-road-cousin. I was maybe eight and he ten or so. It was in a church hall not far from where we lived and was in aid of Boys Brigade funds.

I remember seeing the trestle tables laden with clothes and such, but the most vivid memory is of a potato masher on a stall with kitchen equipment. Kitchenalia has always been a point of interest.

I seem to think my Aunty bought something (cousin was in the Boys' brigade and I was later in the Girls' Brigade) to show solidarity, but my Mother didn't.  She doesn't like second hand, vintage, retro. Unless it's wooden furniture, where she spots the most incredible bargains and works wonders doing them up. She is also a great spotter for me and will happily haul stuff back to hand it over with incomprehension.

Anyway, when we were all leaving my Mother and Aunty started discussing the event. My Mother said she didn't like that kind of thing and it had left her feeling chatty. I'm not sure whether this is a regional thing, but it doesn't mean talkative. It describes feeling itchy and uncomfortable, as if you are suffering an infestation of bugs. I've seen it written in a book once, it was in relation to the trenches in the First World War and so is an old world. But you get the idea of how the jumble sale made her feel.

For some reason this made my Aunty start laughing, they were both giggling and shaking, with tears running down their faces. It was the first time I understood that adults were just the same as children and laughed in inappropriate places. I loved that they found it all so funny, though I couldn't understand my Mother's objections.

You're either vintage or you're not. It's not genetic, obviously!

So, on Saturday, I bagged some great finds. A pristine 12 cup cafetiere for £2, perfect for get-togethers. Some vintage pillowcases, ripe for crochet edging, and a thing for 50p. Not really sure what it is, but I have ideas for its future use.

The church hall where it was held was heaving, they must have made a small fortune from the 30p entrance fee alone. The atmosphere was electric. Bargain hunters and closet antiques dealers in equal measure. You can't beat it for an afternoon's fun, and I never once felt chatty. Except in the conventional sense.

St Vincent's Day...

Remember on St Vincent's Day

If that the sun his beams display,

Be sure to mark his transient beam

Which through the window sheds a gleam;

For 'tis a token bright and clear,

Of prosperous weather all the year.

or...

Le jour de St Vincent, si le soleil lui comme un chapeau, on aura du vin a pleins tonneaux.

 

Yes, today is St Vincent's Day, or Sunbeam Day is it was known in days of yore (apparently).  Although the pond is roughed up by the wind and the rain is making lovely ringlets around the drops there has been a little blue sky and.... a hint of sun.

I'm taking it that this is, therefore, an auspicious omen of excellent weather to come. Starting tomorrow...

(As you can see, it's not just the English who have these little weather foibles.)

I'd have to learn how to make curtains...

I've been writing about The Crescent on and off since I started this blog almost three years ago now. Still nothing has happened. I worry that it will just fall down one day before They can make a decision and put it to use once more.

I played the lottery last night, it's a £6.5 million rollover, you never know... someone has to win. But I think even that wouldn't pay for the remodel...

In reverse order...

Yorkshire puddings, a firm favourite with certain family members home from university. I don't like them dry and hard as bullets, which is how so many restaurants seem to serve them these days. They have to be a bit squishy.

When my Mother was growing up mini puddings like these were often served up as afters with a little syrup drizzled over them. When I was at home and we were having the Sunday roast she just made one great big one and portioned it out.

I like the way they are puffed up when they come out of the oven, then sag in the centre, providing the all-important well for the gravy. Yum...

After a long search...

When I lived in Moscow I used to go to a lot of galleries and exhibitions. There are dozens of them and many of the very highest quality. Ok, everything was in Russian, which at first was difficult, and they charge more for foreign visitors.

Then I learned the language and realised that as I had  residency permit I could get local rates. This wasn't popular at the ticket office at first, I suspect no-one had ever tried it, but I persisted and they gave in. I'll tell you another story about this at the end...

Anyway, on my visits to the Tretyakov Gallery I used to go to one particular set of paintings over and over again. I never made a note of the artist's name and have spent years trying to find out who she was. Bingo, the Tretyakov has now got an English language search engine. Thank you! And I have found her...

This is Zinaida Yevgenyevna Serebryakova's self portrait. Isn't she lovely? The colours in the actual painting are more vibrant, she looks like she's standing right there in front of you. This picture is from 1909 when she was about 25.

The other one I particularly liked was of her children at the breakfast table...

The yellow jug is just so well painted, and the chairs so like some my Mother has!

These two go straight into my fantasy gallery, unfortunately prints aren't available in the UK. Or at least I can't find any.

She made a lot of self portraits throughout her life...

... and in my opinion was just as beautiful in all of them.

The Tretyakov collection can be accessed here, and more of Serebryakova's paintings can be seen on good old Google.

Almost forgot my story (and, oh, is it one of many tales of mishap and woe I could share). We went on a very snowy trip to St Petersburg and were near the Hermitage Museum at a ticket kiosk (you can get tickets to everything going on in the city) when a man sidled up and asked if we wanted to buy cheap tickets to the Kirov Ballet that night, he'd been listening in to what we were considering... Romeo and Juliet. Who could refuse?

We turned up that evening to be told we'd been conned. An old lady usherette informed me, it had to be me as I was the only one who could speak Russian, that we'd been sold 'Russian' (read:cheap) tickets and they couldn't be used by Foreigners (read: Idiots who don't realise they're being charged at least double). The dodgy man must have thought he'd seen us coming. She was trying to eject us as I whipped out my residency stamp and informed her we lived in Moscow and surely that gave us every right to take the seats.

After that she was absolutely wonderful, showing us to the seats and offering us lap blankets, fussing over the children in the way only Russian ladies know how to. 

The motto is: never give up. Even with an extremely limited vocabulary in a very foreign country. It's always worth a punt...

And it really was worth it.

Poppy day...

I always buy a poppy. I always lose the poppy. This is a cyclical thing at work; you lose one, you find one that someone else has dropped.

To avoid (hopefully) losing yet another this year I made my donation but made a poppy instead. It's just felt and a rather nice vintage button with a little pin sewn on the back. Nothing fancy.

I know not everyone supports the poppy appeal. Fair enough, but I do and if anyone abroad hasn't heard of it you can read more here. And to find out how it began, read here.

My Grandma was in the British Legion and once took part in the Remembrance Service at the Royal Albert Hall. She had some of the poppy petals, that fall at the end of the service, in her purse for many years. To remind her.

An overdose of orange...

Try as I might I couldn't get a better photo. Well, what I mean is I couldn't be bothered to set up a tripod, so this is as good as it gets until I learn to not move at all while wielding a camera (I always hold my breath in any case, a habit I can't lose!). But you get the general idea. It'll be on the doorstep tonight along with No2's, ready for any Trick-or-Treaters.

As we were carving away happily last night we reminisced about out own Halloween trips around the neighbourhood where we used to live. One of the Mums used to go around all the houses and ask if they minded being called on, she made notes accordingly. The kids all got dressed up, there were sometimes fifteen or so of them, and off we went.

I made cloaks and long black skirts for the girls which had years of use for witches, Draculas and then at school for Victorian dressing up day! The funniest year was when one little boy ran into an old lady's house, belted upstairs and got in bed. 

I made fairycakes as well yesterday, orange cases and orange icing. We roasted the pumpkin seeds and ate them with a sprinkling of salt. Lovely.

I've bought LED tea lights to go in the lanterns. The weather is not conducive to the traditional method and, speaking for myself here, it took a bliddy long time to etch out that tree and I will not be let down by wind and rain...

Tomorrow I shall be holding a giveaway... if you're a reader of Mollie Makes you'll have seen it in there...