June 15 through August, 2013
A pleasant three hour ride across the Irish Sea on a huge and comfy Stena ferryboat, landing in Wales at Holy Headand driving through to Bangor where we found a great harbor/marina spot for the night. The next morning we arrived in Conwy (no, that is not a misspelling!) What a town! Small enough to easily walk to see everything it has to offer... A castle and walled city... A suspension bridge, maybe the first of its kind, designed with much beauty and strength combined, built of steel and cable, it crosses the water to the castle. It was once a toll bridge. 6P a crossing. Now we can walk it without traffic and marvel at it. A protected harbor and beach and some great shops on the town streets add to this town's charm.
We popped into a pottery shop, a potters' gallery filled with good work. Today Richard is taking his turn to mind the shop. He tells us a story, about his youth and becoming a potter.
He had already trained and knew enough to go and apply for a job in a factory. His first assignment: mixing the water and powder to form a bisque that is just the right consistency to pour into a mold. Well, he was pretty confident. He knew it would take 15 minutes as he had done this very thing often. He put the ingredients in a large cauldron which came with automatic paddles. Having only mixed by hand before, he thought, “This should be easy.” He turned the mixer on and watched it ,and the timing, closely, but...the mixture started to thicken early and quickly. It was supposed to be at a perfect state to pour into a mold and set immediately after. “Mr. Boss! Mr. Boss! What should I do?! The process is going too fast!” Mr. Boss says loud and clear, “Retard it!” Richard, “Retard it? How?” Boss, “Pee in it!” Oh my gosh. He tried but he couldn't make it happen. How embarrassing! He looked up and everyone in the room had stopped working. They were shaking their heads like... “You dummy.” The light goes on...He has just been initiated!
June 17
Before we start our house sitting assignment this afternoon, we have time to visit a National Trust site. Wightwick Manner. Oh! We have been here before! Well it doesn't matter, it was a favorite when we were in this area last year. Formal but quirky gardens. Hedges cut in crazy ways. We follow a lady's group through the house. Such beautiful things throughout. William Morris wall paper and fabric, Rosetti paintings and Jane Morris handwork. When the ladies are finished and off to lunch, the docent, Chris, takes us on an extended tour; tells us stories of the rich and famous. It seems they all married each other except one who married beneath his class. Scandalous!
We learned that all the wall paper in this house, the original, was done by a hand-block printing process. There are still shops around that do it this way. Expensive!
And there are books placed around that look like interesting reading, written by Geoffrey Mander's second wife, Lady Rosalie Mander. The book that gets my attention is Mrs. Browning, the story of Elizabeth Barrett. There is a flair of creativity and fun in this house. 'At Homes' would be given by invitation to Rosalie's friends, at which card-playing, music and palmistry would be the activities. Displayed on a stand, a large and thick book of herbal drawings done in 1636, author John Gerard. I could come back often and slowly peel away the layers of stories and beautiful craftwork within its Victorian/Medieval flavor walls.
The couple both died at age 47, leaving their young children, who were sent to board with relatives. The oldest boy eventually took over the house until he deemed it best to hand it over to the National Trust, intact, just as they left it.
We have two hours to be at Dave and Gaynor's little stone house in Hawksbury Upton. At 3:00 we arrived to be oriented to the garden and house and Saffy the cat. Oh my, will we be able to get to know her? Will she die while we are here this month. She is 18 years old and skinny and wobbley. Gaynor has made us a beautiful meal so we have time to chat further. They leave before we wake the next morning, to catch the Chunnel to France.
First, before I continue, let me tell you about Saffy (Saffron). She is built like a regal Egyptian, an Asian breed. She talks a lot. First we think she needs something but later we decide that she just likes to talk to us. She loves to cuddle and spends a good amount of time on David's lap. She eats like a horse! I think much of her food does not get digested. We give her medicine to help her with that, but she also knows to eat plenty of grass outside. We adore her.
June 18
A bit of a standstill... a big transition from our camper-van home. Someone else's stuff is all around us. We begin to build our layer on top of theirs. The home is two story, very small. Very charming. The big kitchen has been added on to the back and has modern cooking facilities. The 'hob' (stove elements) is separate and it works by magnets, I think. Wierd. There are three ovens of different types which we never use. (We are 'new fangeled' deficient.)
Our chores and responsibilities are: to take care of Saffy, feed the fish in the pond, put the separated garbage out in about 5 different containers on different days of the week, keep the gardens watered (with watering cans), a bit of dead-heading and weeding and harvesting. Harvesting! Broad beans and onions and squash and radishes and lettuce, robust rhubarb and STRAWBERRIES! We can do this!
The area outside the kitchen is most commodius. Enclosed on two sides by stone walls, huge pink roses cascade down amongst dense rose leaf foliage. A little gurgling pond of fish, and waterlilies in bloom...and 8 big frogs. A gas barbeque, a table, a long white painted metal bench. Comfy chairs are available in the storage room. A wonderful place! There is a postage stamp-size lawn which David mows a few times and which we also take naps on. And surrounding this, trees and flowers in bloom. Lilac, mock orange, other trees with names I do not know, hollyhock, sedum, bluebells of Scotland, columbine, cosmos and hosta...and others in pots along the kitchen wall. A blackbird is building a nest with sticks and straw. She is all black with a yellow bill and is much like our North American robin in size, song and movements (Robins here are a different species, tiny like wrens). She has claimed this place as hers and hovers and sings. So comforting to us.
Behind this, down a long walkway, is the lucious vegetable garden. Row upon row. The black 'robin' likes it here...finding her way under the protective net to the strawberries.
And now, the village...
It is small in general. 'Our' house sits at a katty-wampus main crossroads on the corner of Sand Pitts Road and France Road. The main road runs through the old town which looks much the same as always. Stone! There is a small shop where we get bread and eggs and milk, even pork chops. One restaurant, Italian. One pub, popular with everyone; beer and pub food and a great spot outdoors in a back garden to relax, eat, chat and people-watch. Children are welcomed in the pub with families and friends. It lightens the mood.
Along the road is the community hall, the 'old peoples' home, and rows of quaint and lovely houses all lovingly blessed with names, posted by the front door. There is a farm with fresh produce, meats and cheeses for sale in the other direction. We found a church of England, a Methodist church and a few other Community Churches. Tucked away on Back Street is the post office open only in the mornings. There are riding stables and large estates in the back roads. Every day horses go by our window, on a daily exercise walk, classically dressed young horse-women upon their backs, in smart helmets and boots.
We attend the Methodist church on three Sundays, getting to know the congregation of about seven. A sweet old church, the members wish to keep it going. Joni, a yoga teacher, comes because her mother was organist there for 30 years. Jackie comes because she is the organist now. Maureen holds a coffee and sewing gathering every Monday morning where they make blankets for children. We enjoy this church.
At 'home' I take the opportunity to write. We play cards, read, and watch English television (on which we happen to see a train tour through familiar Zurich and surrounding area). We even watch a soccer (called football here) game. Lots of action. David happily spends much time in the garden. We enjoy the space to cook. Breakfast and coffee is outside on the white bench in the morning. In the evening we head outdoors, pull out the comfy chairs and have dinner, with wine of course. And always, there is Saffy...so darn sweet.
Sunday afternoons we head to a Carvery for the traditional roast beef dinner. We shop for groceries at the huge Tesco in another town. There is nothing missing in that store, including lots of English butter and heavy cream...and clotted cream. (But, the English don't put cream in their tea or coffee, a low fat milk is the ticket.)
Our other activity while in Hawksbury is visiting BritishNational Trust sites. I will make a list and say a few words about them, which you might find boring reading! I am really writing this for David and I, a few words to jog our memories when we get old in our rocking chairs and we are reading it to each other at the top of our lungs!
Most of these places have wonderful shops pertaining to their site...and restaurants that always offer 'cream teas'... Tea as you like it and a scone with clotted cream and a little pot of jam. Perfect! Most sites have original homes, castles, estates with scrumptious gardens, both formal and country relaxed. Some have exceptional stories to tell about the people who lived in them.
DURHAM PARK
...Estate. Home of William Blathwayte. Made his money selling bird poop. 270 acres of parklands and gardens. (Now there is a story!)
TYNTESFIELD
… Truly a beautiful place owned by William Gibbs, the richest commoner in Britain in the 1850s to 60s...his estate 'a statement of prosperity, confidence, fervent faith and family fortune'. Gothic towers, kitchen gardens used today by the restaurant, gleaming intricate decorative wood carvings, faux leather wall paper, open staircase in central high ceilinged light-infused room. So luxurious. The separate chapel, like a small church. A jewel of a sanctuary. (We come to a concert here later in the week to hear a fine a cappela group sing a variety of songs...from religious to American show tunes.) We follow John, a volunteer, around the garden. (He seems to be having trouble remembering his material.) Rose garden. Yew trees in hedges or fully grown, accenting a road, a pathway. Amazing old trees from all over the world, even a Nootka Cedar. It takes 700 volunteers to make all this work!
LACOCK ABBEY and FOX TALBOT MUSEUM and village of Lacock
...One to visit for sure. Home of William Henry Fox Talbot, an acceptional child, bright and well liked, who loved to learn. He became an independent inventor of photography, and a museum here shows his life successes. Also there is a contemporary photo exhibit, a really good one of the black and white work of six photographers. Displayed in the garden, some good and fun sculptures, especially the parasol with holes in it...glass pieces create prisms and if you sit or lie on the disk-platform below while you turn the parasol, it filters and captures the light... capturing a feeling of being under a leafy tree, dappling you and the ground in a soft breeze. The other sculpture is shaped like a willow tree with glass apple-like globes attached. Look into the globes and you will see how a lens will show you everything upside-down. We walked through the old abbey. Most memorable to me was the hall of the nuns, where they all slept. No fire, no glass in the windows, certainly no privacy or down comforters. (Ladies! Was that really okay with you? Did you think you needed to suffer that much?) A window in the abbey cloister area was used to create the first photographic negative. David and I thought we would take a short cut across the field to the Abbey. Surprise. A haha surrounds it. (A haha is a deep ditch that cannont be seen until you are upon it. It keeps the animals out of the people part, keeps them in their fields, but to the eye from a manor or abbey, it cannot be seen so it seems an unbroken vista.) The village is well worth a walk-through...also minded by National Trust. It is totally a village of another time and it is protected to keep it that way. We embibe in tea and scones!
NEWARK PARK
...Romantic! Incredible scenery. The Cistercian Kingwood Abbey was taken away by Henry VIII, as were most abbeys in England, in his zeal to become the head of the English Church, in place of the Pope in Rome. His true quest was to aquire all the money that came with abbeys to support the expense of all the wars he needed to win! The later estate home was built with the abbey stone. The monks who had lived here provided well for themselves...a pond filled with fish to eat, a homemade warren (pillow mounds) that supplied rabbits, deer for venison in forest and fields, apple trees for cider, a nuttery of small miniature nut trees, and spring water. Brick walls follow the land contours, this style named by the Suffolk people, 'crinkle crankle”. Since the monks, many people have owned this manor. There are carraige rides around the large properties that have intentional stops for incredible vistas. Wings have been added to the house. In order to keep the look semetrical, windows were painted on the walls to reflect the real windows on the other side of the front door. Six peacocks strut in the gardens. A five foot long dragon weather-vane made of a copper and iron mix stands (or seems to fly) above it all.
RODMARTON MANOR
...This home is still lived in, part of it given over to the public to see. It is a great example of the Arts and Crafts movement. Both the house and everything in it is made according to the Arts and Crafts ideals. Beautiful hand-crafted furniture, some of it richly painted. Painted pottery. Weavings and wall hangings. Paintings. Glowing polished wood. A feeling of deep care, the best of life portrayed in a slow and appreciative atmosphere. I love the detailed appliqued wall hangings in a long hallway depicting the four seasons of this estate...starring the people who lived here! A spinner works in the window corner of a lovely room. We have a conversation about making things by hand, and sharing the experience with friends. The owner works the garden along with one hired gardener. Lovely outdoor rooms of gardens. Before heading for home, David and I have tea and gingerbread at a garden table.
CHAVENAGE HOUSE
'...an Elizabethan house of mellow grey Cotswold stone...' that has stayed unchanged for 400 years...owned by only two families. It is still a private home and the owner and his son take us though (A way to pay their huge expenses). The oldest part has been left as is, while the family lives in another wing. They are very proud to show us its history...and are very capable of being funny! Oliver Cromwell stayed in one of the bedrooms for quite some time, hiding from Royalists...because he was responsible for having King Edward's head cut off! It seems since then, there have been ghosts coming and going. The king himself, arriving by carraige and when his hood is pushed back, there is no head! Well the owner's grandmother had the room exorcised by both Catholic and Church of England fathers...no ghosts since. There are some nice quilts, one a 'grandmother's garden' design and the other a wonderful 'hodge-podge'. And on a table a magazine, a lovely catalogue of Viella Fabrics, the photos taken by Snowden, once married to Princess Margaret (the Queen's sister).
ABBEY HOUSE GARDENS
...This is the most fantastic world class garden. It is home to the 'naked gardeners'. No kidding. Nuddists have built this garden. Husband and wife and now helpers. On Sundays you are invited to take off your clothes and enjoy your surroundings. Well, we did not go on Sunday. Whew! But, I did talk with the owner...keeping my eyes on his face...as all he had on was a little 'sling'.
WESTONBIRT ARBORETUM
...WOW! Magnificant. A truly spiritual experience. Those huge old wise and sacred trees...walks between them on wide lawn roads (rides) and smaller paths. Breathtaking. We napped in a dappled glade. Bird sounds all around. Close by, a few Nootka Cedars. Remarkable.
HIGHNAM COURT GARDENS
...1658. Bought in 1838 by Thomas Gambier Parry, an accomplished artist, musician and art collector. He planned and oversaw the planting of the gorgeous gardens and today it has been restored. We walked to the church abutting the property, the church that Parry built for the community and is still in use. There are outstanding and unique wall paintings covering the interior, painted by Mr. Parry, inspired by travels in Italy. Parry developed a fresco technique suitable for this damp climate. A must see. So beautiful. (His youngest son, Sir Hubert Parry is one of Britain's best-known composers. Jerusalem is almost a national song.)
LYTES CARY MANOR and GARDENS
...Henry Lyte translated the Niewe Herbal Book on herbal remedies. Cary is the name of the river that flows by. Timing in this garden is just right. First the rain and then a long spell of sunshine has brought the colors and density to a peak. We see two favorites; Male Kiwi climbing in profusion, leaves turning to white or pinkish patches. Lovely. The other is Romnea, a shrub filled with huge white flowers of single papery petals with big button yellow centers. Also, a tiny chapel offers a space to enter and enjoy the silence.
SUDELEY CASTLE & GARDENS
...once the magnificent palace of Queen Katharine Parr, Henry Vlll's sixth and last wife, outliving him. Her essense is everywhere and it is easy to catch yourself living in the past. A former suiter, Sir Thomas Seymour, married her six weeks after Henry's death and brought Catherine to this huge estate of 200 people. I found this visit most touching...relating to this special spirit. I bought a small prayer book that she herself had written and put together,The Spice of Wisdom.
While still house-sitting in the Cotswolds we also took advantage of local events. We drove to Bristol several times for concerts. Clifton Cathedral was the venue for the a cappala singing performance of The Tallis Scholars. Perfect harmony of 10 voices, 5 male, 5 female, sometimes carefully sliding into a remarkable minor key, almost disonnent. I thought I was flying with the angels when one woman reached a thrilling height of notes, over and over again. Goose bumps. But also the church itself was thrilling. 40 years old, the hexogonal structure strong and open, made in cement and steel. In the same shape, the spire is of a large diameter and lets light into the sanctuary, settling on the stage. Outside, standing stone images are placed at the spire randomly and at different heights. A stunning building and a stunning performance.
The other concert was at Colston Hall in the center of Bristol. Title: A Romany Journey. The performers were made up of a large combination of local choirs and also the 'Gypsy Stars' who were mostly out of tune and boring. A disappointment. Gypsy music can be so deep and inspiring.
We also attended the 'Cotswold Show”, a county fair. The usual food vendors, artists booths, sales vendors, the county competitions of pies, quilts, pigs etc., carnival rides and a large open space for moving exhibitions...ie: young people doing group tricks on motorcycles, border collies herding geese, horses and horn blowing riders using beagles as hunting dogs, and the dearest pony and cart races.
Another event called an 'open garden' took place in our village. These are popular ways to make money for causes, this time for the seniors. Our friend Joni was reading Tarot cards. Also tables of clothing, tools, art and food. We bought a cream tea in the back garden and donated to Joni's table.
Colin and Ingrid Backhouse (Cyprus friends) visit us for a good part of a sunny day in the garden. We are lucky to find this date to be together. Their time seems short in the English summer; children and grandchildren to visit, work on cars, rental property to upgrade, doctors appointments, etc...they are leaving in the afternoon to meet a daughter for an event of 'Big Band' orchestra music and dancing. Colin and Ingrid have costumes ready. Their daughter has run into a good source of clothing from the era and her sales booth should be popular.
At one point, I stay home to look after Saffy while David meets our friends Bob and Christine in York. The reason? A huge event called “The Gathering” of the six remaining A4 steam train engines...one from the US, one from Canada, one from South Africa and the rest from around the UK. The 'Sir Nigel Gresley', the 'Flying Scotsman', and the 'Mallard' are all speed record breakers.
David sends me an email...“The great hall was wall to wall people, so any chance of a decent photo was out. I don't know if you remember riding on the train pulled by Sir Nigel, but it looked absolutely great, as did the dozen or so engines parked around the turn-table. The great hall contained probably three dozen engines, from the very first invented. People went nuts about the streamlined A4s. This is the largest railway museum in the world, every aspect of rail covered. Bob can do a running commentary on almost any engine there, which I greatly enjoyed.” Their next day was spent on a train ride from Pickering to Whitby.
July 18, 19 & 20
Our last day here in Hawksbury. We pack the car and clean the house, change the bed and make a last minute inspection of the garden. When all is 'tickety-boo” we say goodbye to our old and dear pal Saffy, though we see her a few minutes the next day when we stop by and check in with Dave and Gaynor to make sure we left everything okay and hear about their French vacation. From here we get on our way toward Swindon... where again we will meet Bob and Christine. The reason? The Royal International Air Tattoo!
We park for lunch in a quiet shady spot by a park, but it does not remain that way for long. Mothers arrive to pick up their children. It is the last day of school so there is a huge element of excitement and celebration. One little girl, who is moving to a higher level school in September, shows us her T-shirt. The tradition for this group, to say goodbye and wish good futures, is to write on the T-shirts with bright colored markers. Very cool!
We meet Chris and Bob at the Holiday Inn Express for dinner in their bar. The meal itself was less than good, but the company was wonderful, fairly loud laughter and talk into the late evening.
David and I found our own way to the Air Show as Chris and Bob had long ago ordered tickets to be seated in an area where meals were provided and where they hoped to easily see all the activities. In the early morning we took chairs, snacks and water with us on a 20 minute walk to the bus station. For 6#s return, we climbed into the double decker bus and enjoyed a half hour ride through the country and small villages to the RAF Fairford Base, saving ourselves the headache of taking a car in the unbelievable traffic. I wasn't sure why I was going to an air show; not something that really interested me. Well here's why!...
I loved every bit of it! Our general admission tickets allowed us to place our chairs very close to the action on the roped off front grass (of course most of the action is in the sky but take off and landings are fun to watch). The weather stayed cool and comfortable. And the exhibits were so exciting! One after another. Noisy and thrilling! Powerful engines, estremely fast speeds, dangerous tricks in the air, smart daring pilots... jets, propellors, combinations, light weight, heavy, commercial, fighters. It was all there. And international participation, beginning with the Dutch show and a plane I can still remember, so smooth and beautiful in its golden orange color. And following; Hungary, Italy, France, Poland, Swiss and of course, the United Kingdom... flights of groups in formation, flights of one. Colors of their country's flags streaming out behind, strong color turning finally to mist. But the huge, dark delta-winged Vulcan! Shooting straight up and disappearing into the clouds! That was the most thrilling of all. And lastly, the brand new British commercial plane, the A380 (bigger than a 747 with a capacity of 500 passengers), escorted by the 'Red Arrows'. The British stood for it, and sang the national anthem. We stayed until the very end followed by dinner and airshow talk and goodbyes with Bob and Chris.
THOUGHTs and OBSERVATIONS
> Live your life so that when you die your friends are bored.German proverb
> A manor nursery rocking horse named Fire Foot. I thought it a great name.
> I find that many of the wealthy are also talented artists, writers and musicians.
> Funny and unique names: Broken Burough, Jack Hare's Bar, Bertha's Field, Trouble House Pub, Knockdown, Dusthole, Downside, Bucketwell, Four Foot Crossroads, Nymfsfield, Pink Green, Cross-In-Hand Lane
> From an English citizen: We English like to complain (the current complaint is “It's too hot!”) and if we have nothing to complain about, we complain about that!
> A five day cricket match is going on...all of England watching England play Austrailia. Wouldn't you know, during breaks tea is served to the players. (England easily wins.)
> Threshold...a British-born word. At many of the old mansions we had to step over a bar when coming and going through doorways. These rooms would have straw and herbs on the floor for a pleasant aroma. The bar keeps the 'thresh' from spreading to other rooms.
> A docent told me about U3A, 'University of the Third Age'. The French started this as a venue for retired people to come together in small groups of like- interests to enjoy and learn together and make new friends. It begins at a general meeting where suggestions on subjects are given, such as art, language, archeology etc. The only criteria is that there must be a leader or person in charge of making the small group happen. Cost; nothing.
> Have you ever heard of Banksie? He is a British masked painter, working anonymously on city walls.
> A solution for a favorite black cotton sweater turning red in the sunshine. I dyed it and put buttons both inside and out so it will last twice as long.
July 21 and 23
We are stopped by a park in a shady spot. Enough is enough! I need to settle down and catch up with a few things. Dogs and masters are playing frisbee. A circle of friends sit on the grass. A small carnival sends its musical noise and hot dog smells across the green. The apartments across the street from the park are old, established and beautiful, expensive cars parked outside. Yes, we could live right here. But we couldn't afford it.
In the morning we spend time at Halford's Garage. Martin, a gentle and bright young man from Romania, glues a loose side mirror back on its base, and talks about his life here. So many people have to leave their home country for work...and they always miss their families and the towns where they grew up...but still they do not see themselves going back. When we ask about their country their eyes light up and they have much to say....ending in...'you should go there.'
We lunch in The Fleece Inn, a half timbered medieval farmhouse that has been turned into a pub. The extraordinary rippled and bowed and leaning walls some- how add to its charm. You trust they will hold, at least while you are enjoying your meal.
And to finish the day, a look at HANBURY HALL, last owned by Sir George Vernon, in his family for 251 years. The question asked here is... “Do money and beauty bring you happiness?” Both the home and gardens are beautiful and indeed would take money to keep them up. Vernon married but separated shortly afterward. He remained in the house alone. When he died he left the house for her to live in until she died. The huge wall painting on the stairwell was remarkable. And upstairs, a children's playroom, left from years before by a Vernon family who had children. I loved the set of paper-covered blocks which not only stacked to build things, but also could be placed into six different puzzle pictures. An added attraction on this property...the British Watercolor Society was having a exhibition.
The next day we visited another interesting home, BADDESLEY CLINTON. Most interesting to us because of its story of the people within. A house in the Ferrere family for 12 generations, it declined until 1860 when Marmion Edward Ferrers lived there with his wife Rebecca and Rebecca's Aunt, Lady Georgiana and her husband Edward Dering. They were all artists and writers who also enjoyed restoring the house. Rebecca painted constantly. She was not a great artist but it was wonderful to see how she, through her paintings, had left illustrations of their lives at this home. She even painted a self-portrait of herself standing in one of the manor rooms. When Rebecca's husband died and her aunt, also, the two left could not stay in the house together. It was Victorian times after all! Edward Dering had spent most of his money on fixing the house. He did not want to leave it. The solution of course was to marry each other.
What a really pleasant day. This property is not overwhelming but it has it all. Walled garden borders stuffed with flowers, a mote big enough so it felt like the house was sitting in the middle of a lake...a bridge to get to the house. More ambiance; decrepit row boats, ducks and coots, a walk to a little church, St. Michael's. It was on this walk that we came across a man and his adorable little rescue dog, Patches. The man was quietly reading on a path-side bench. In conversation he told us that we must read Cider with Rosie, by Laurie Lee, about life in the Cotswold village of Slad. It seems it is a local classic.
Tonight we are in the very Tudor town of Warwick, all the old homes are timbered dark designs against white plaster and settled at jaunty angles. There is a castle of course, and a nice center square where we enjoy drinks. We met Tennysee folks who are on a library tour. I found buttons for my sweater and flax seed for my body while David climbed the 170 stairs to the top of the tower for some good pictures.
July 24
More TRUST sites. We just can't help it!
SHUGBOROUGH
...ancestral home to the Earls of Lichfield, the most famous, Patrick Lichfield, photographer. He loved to run with the 'in' crowd...and photograph them. We saw photos of David Hockney, Marlen Brando, Twiggy, Charlie Chaplin, Olivia Newton-John, Susanna York, Michael Cain and Audrey Hepburn. His apartments were also of interest because it looked like he was still living there. Dressing gown (bath robe) thrown across the chair. Coffee mug etc. Worn uphostery. A bit messy.
SPEKE HALL
...the exterior is decorated totally with black timber designs. Quite a sight. It was built at the time when King Henry VIII declared himself the head of the church and banned everything catholic. The owner, Sir William Norris, had secret 'whispering galleries' and secret peek holes and secret bedrooms for the Catholic Clergy who were hiding in their house. The docents are dressed in costume. One lady had made her own, covered in beads and ribbon and fancy stitching. A young girl gasped when she saw her. “Did you make your dress?!!” Her sister chimed in, “You must be a very clever lady!”
GAWTHORPE HALL
...Another favorite. This time because its story is about fabrics and handsewing and about a remarkable woman, Miss Rachel Kay-Shuttleworth (b.1886). She lived alone in this manor house with her housekeeper and a few gardeners. As a child she practised sewing and needlework and became proficient. Proficient enough to begin teaching. Anyone who sincerely wanted to learn needle arts was welcomed into her home, even if you just turned up on her door step and asked for a lesson.
Rachel's vision: 'I have a vision of a place of meeting where neighbors will come for many reasons to seek stimulating thought by meeting other active minds, to find refreshment and inspiration and a joy in beauty.' She said these words in 1912. The house management continues to follow her dream, teaching textile related classes.
There are needlework samples for us to see. One that was new to me was called BLACKWORK, worked in black and shades of grey only. The motif on the border of this particular one is of fish and the sea. Inside are the words:
I wish I were a fish,
In the Agean Sea,
Instead of which, here is my niche,
In London, being me~
Frances Kay 1961
(Was this a decendant of Rachel?)
Other rather old fashioned sayings, but still valuable words, and carefully stitched...
To lose a father is much
To lose a mother is more
To lose a Savior is such
As no-one can restore.
*
Can a woman's tender care
Cease towards the child she bare
Yes, she may forgetful be
Yet will I remember thee.
*
God is alike both good and wise
In what he grants and what denies
Perhaps what Goodness gives today
Tomorrow Goodness takes away.
The ceiling of my favorite room, Rachel's bedroom, is plastered with white on white 3D designs. In the center is a lovely swirl of grapes (for the good life) and oak leaves (for strength). The bed curtains, valence and quilt were all embroidered and appliqued by Rachel Kay-Shuttleworth. Fantastic. On a background of white, ladies on horses prancing through open forests...berries, leaves, acorns grasses...and also deer happily cavorting through the trees.
Before I leave I talk to another Rachel. She is the costume manager, tracing down clothing; where it was made, who wore it, where and when. She started her schooling in acting and drama but was pulled to the costuming, so started volunteering at Gawthorp Hall. When costuming became a department in today's program, she jumped in. We agreed. 'Follow your bliss!'
A docent in the Long Gallery was more than worth talking to. Chris was a former history teacher. His interest in history has made him extraordinarily 'far-seeing' and took our conversation deeper than usual.
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