Memories from Home - Montecute House

Promise you won't laugh? I know you will though, I would if I were you, but I get this funny feeling when I'm in old country homes. Yes I am about to absorb myself in dillisions of grandeur, so if you want to just look at the gorgeous pictures and ignore the dribble, I fully understand.

 

My mum has always said that I have "ideas above my station" and this just proves it. My friend Delia puts it down to some spiritual sensation suggesting that "maybe in a past life you were an aristocrat or something". I don't know, whatever it is, I just feel comfortable. I can spend hours wandering around the rooms, admiring the antiques, fabrics, furniture and art. The smells of old just make everything so real and strangely familiar. I can really imagine how life would have been back then. I can feel the history, imagine the family sagas and personalities that would have existed there.

I guess we can all dream and maybe that's just it, maybe I have an overactive imagination and have read too many historical romances.

On our visit to the National Trust property Montecute House it was such a beautiful day that we decided not to pay the entrance fee and just hang out in the gardens instead. We spent the whole afternoon strolling around the gardens, looking at the beautiful flowers, playing chase, watching the fish in the pond, waiting just waiting for Mr Darcy. See that's another thing, being a complete romantic means that I really do believe in knights in shinning armour who whisk woman away to a happy ever after life.

Mr Darcy didn't arrive that day but I am pleased that Mr Darcy has since revved into Delia's life, albeit on a bright shiny motorbike.

Memories from Home - Dunster Country Show

Don't we all just love a good country fare to evoke nostalgic feelings of happy childhood summers days? Pony rides, scones, fizzy pop, fair rides, face painting, sunburn, the beautiful sweet smell of hay and horses tack and Punch and Judy belly laughs.

As a parent it gets even better. Not only do you get to relive those memories but you get to relish in the enjoyment of seeing your little kiddiwinks experience it all. Plus, you discover a whole other side of the show - the adult entertainment. No I don’t mean of the risqué variety, but the local cider, microbrewed beers and gournmet farmers gastronomic delights. I have also entered into the official ‘boring old farts club’ by discovering an interest in the more traditional country crafts such as spinning and thatching which before would have made me adopt the “yeh right whatever” kind of attitude. I even went for a little lookie at the tweeds, no I didn't buy any, way to itchy for me, but I just wondered if I could mix it up abit with a couple of my vintage dresses and run a queenie type look!

But seriously is there anything more fun, I ask you? And with the backdrop of Dunster Castle, it was all pretty perfect really for us at the Dunster Show. See the castle? It's one of my favourite things to do in England, visit the National Trust country homes and estates. I'll be sharing some pictures from Montecute House real soon, where Sense and Sensability was filmed.

Kim didn’t quite know what to make of the ferret racing (it’s an English thing), but was very proud of his achievement on the clay pigeon shoot after the guy told him he was way to good and had to shoot blindfolded! Maggie as always loved all things horsey and especially enjoyed the fun games put on by the pony clubs.

This was all very serious, which made me giggle. Though I have always thought of hunting as a cruel sport with the prolonged chase and savage kill of animals just doing what they do, I do however like some of the associated traditions and respect the skills of the master of the hound. Hypocritical maybe.

Oh and did I tell you? There was even a crooked house. Remember these? I was so excited about going in this when I saw it (you see you can do things like this again when you have a child). Actually it was disappointingly 'pikey' inside, but I tried to see it through kids eyes and looked past the gaffer tap holding the boxing bags together as I exaggerated my bash into them each time the wibbly woobly floor moved.

Face paints smudged, we returned to our barn properly tired, dirty and sticky from sugar and sweat. I just flipping love it I do. When I say returned home, it wasn’t quite as simple as just popping the key in the ignition and off we trot as I had left a ‘thingy’ on and flattened the car battery requiring the local scout group to push us around the flat field a couple of times to bump start the car! I felt abit like Benny Hill.

Farm Shops

Just a quick little post about farm shops. This is one that I became a bit of a fan of during our stay on my Uncle's farm in Over Stowey in Somerset, England.

It's just simple, how life should be.

They grow it.

We buy it.

Bobs your Uncle. Farm fresh locally produced fruit and vegies. Come on, lets all just buy direct from our local suppliers, find them, use them, it just makes sense. It's just one of those little things we can all do easily to collectively make a difference.

Memories from Home - Tracey Emin Exhibition

I had always sat uncomfortably on the fence on the subject of appreciation of controversial artist Tracey Emin's work until I went to her exhibition 'Love is What You Want' at the Hayward Gallery in London recently. Knowing a little about her controversial status in the contemporary art world I went with an open mind and ready to consider the ever looming question 'what is art anyway' and 'are you taking the piss'? Not surprisingly, the answer to those questions when faced with an exhibit of a used tampon was the latter and the constant references to her abortion experiences left me feeling awkward and emotionally drained.

Sure her previous work 'My Bed' (link here) could be considered abit 'lazy' and her tent piece 'Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995' (link here) was a little unnecessarily informative but what I didn't realise about Tracey Emin is her uncanny knack with a needle. Check out the amazing quilts she has produced, they blew me away and not something I had expected to see at all.

 

She had patchworked, appliqued and embroidered snippets of her life in proper memory quilt style using old clothes, swatches and keep sakes. I can just imagine her sat in a little stitch n bitch sewing group stitching away on these........NOT!

One thing you can say about her work is that it's truly personal. She is outspoken. She challenges personal thoughts and makes statements that others might not be so brave to make. And whilst her mono prints were a little too dark for me, I could appreciate their rawness. They really make you feel like she's scratched out her heart and soul on the paper. Hmm serious shit really! And I guess that's what art is, expressionism. This is where it starts getting abit deep so I'll leave you with your own thoughts on this.

So do I like Tracey Emins work? Yeh, I love the quilts. And anything controversial is good for the mind. And yes I appreciate her abilities as a mixed media artist. I also love the way her work is so personal and tells her story, just probably not one to share with the kids though.

I chose not to put up pictures of her more controversial work, but if you're interested, Mr Google is always more than willing to oblige.

Memories from Home - Godney Gathering

Ever wondered what happened to that band, that did that song, that went "................"? Well I have a stonker for you here. Remember that song that went "put your hands on, put your hands on"? It's by a surfy/bluesy/rock band called Reef who are from Somerset, England - very near home. They stopped recording in 2003 after five brilliant albums but have recently reformed and here they are now.



I've been abit of a groupie since the days when they played grungy gigs in dodgy little pubs in and around Somerset.  I use the word groupie very lightly as this was really only in my dreams as I had/have a very serious crush on Mr lead singer, Gary Stringer. So on my recent visit home can you imagine how excited I was to enjoy a very special evening in a field deep in the Somerset countyside with the aforementioned Mr Stringer. Unfortunately so too were 4000 other faithful local fans, including Mr Gale. Who was quite happy for me to rock my little socks off  and even passed without comment on the not so delicately put "get your kit off Gary" shouts that shrilled from my lungs. I fully embraced the vibe in that edgy cider fuelled moshpit. What's a rock concert without a few elbow wacks in the head and cider spills down your cleavage. Look out for the Godney Gathering next year.



Gary Stringer and Jack Bessant (half the band) are keeping it real playing some seriously cool mellow yellow acoustic tunes on a side project called Stringer Bessant and Reef are back on the road better than ever. Schoolgirl crush aside, they are one seriously talented riff-ridden rock band with too many belting tunes, soulful slowies and singalong anthems to mention. They're often not shy of some proper rock n roll star gynastics on stage too. Gary you rock, and just for the record, I love that little bum wiggle thingy you do too:)

Two and a half months spent at home in England and so many special memories to share and record, follow the 'Memories from Home' posts by hitting the 'join this site' button on the right. Life's not just all about sewing you know:)

Wild Ponies

Isn't it amazing what can arise from a simple trip to the shop to get bread and milk. Especially in place as special as this. The village of Nether Stowey sits in the foothills of the Quantocks, an area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in the South West of England.

I'm staying here for a couple of months whilst we spend time visiting family and friends. My Uncle has lived on a farm here for as long as I can remember and when I was a child, my Grandma and Grandad lived in the cottage next door. I always used to love staying with my Grandma and Grandad, not just because they were so special to me at such a difficult period of my life, but also because of their quirky little home with the wibbly wobbly floors and walls, the massive wood burner that used to fill the whole house with warmth and comfort and the mature laden fruit tress in the garden. But what was most special was that at night I would wake to the sound of the wild ponies cantering down past the cottage from the hills into the village to feast on the cricket green grass. It was like a magical fairy tale. I would quickly run to the tiny window and watch them by the moonlight. I'll never forget that. The wild ponies are still on the Quantocks but I think their numbers are diminishing and the cattle grids now keep them more contained.

So with this in my kind, after buying our freshly baked bread, milk, faggots, apples and cream for our apple pie desert I decided to take a quick detour via 'dead womans ditch' to see if Maggie and I could spot wild ponies up on the hills.

I could not believe our luck because all of a sudden there in the middle of the road in front of us, slowly crossing the road was a family of wild ponies, including two very young foals. We watched them cross in peace and then followed them through the bushes.

It was a really wintery day today, very windy and rainy so it felt extra special, seeing them in their wooly coats, with long tangly manes and wild eyes.

It's experiences like this that I hope stick in Maggie's mind, feed her imagination and make magical dreams.

Speaking of feeding imaginations and making magical dreams, you may be interested to know that the village of Nether Stowey, where we go to our local shop, is famed for being where Samuel Coleridge lived for three years and wrote The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Frost at Midnight and Kubla Khan.

Elderflower Cordial

Tonight after diner we went picking elderflowers in Uncle Johns fields to make cordial so I thought I'd share the recipe with you.

But first a note on the flowers. Pick the flowers early. Not too early that the flowers haven't opened, but not too late that they have started to turn brown and smell of cats wee.

 For 1 litre of cordial, you need to pick about 20 large flower heads.

The best flowers are often quite high so unless you want to carry a ladder/chair with you, I find it best to use scissors and 'jump and snip' so that they fall to the ground. Maggie then gathered and counted.

Use a heavy based large pan over a high heat. To 1 litre of boiling water, add 1.8kg of caster sugar and stir over the heat until the sugar has dissolved. Remove from heat. Zest and juice 2 lemons, then slice and add to pan. Add 75g of citric acid and the elderflower heads. Leave to infuse for 24 hours. Strain through muslin and pour into steralised bottles. Done. Easy peasy hey and a lovely gift.

This is where we walked home to our barn with our elderflowers.

Home

I always feel such a mish mash of emotions when I embark on a trip home. The fact that I still naturally call England home will give you an indication of how I regard England despite leaving seven years ago to travel the world and hang out with a guy I had only spent two weeks with in Indonesia! He ended up becoming my husband, we had Maggie and the rest of the story is pretty happy ever after. Apart from the yearning I have for home, for the things that made me who I am, the things I took for granted when I had them and the things that I didn't even realise I'd miss the most.  Can you imagine the excitement of seeing my family again? I haven't seen my dad for two big fat years. The thought of seeing him again makes my heart flutter. Hanging out with my homies, dancing with my girlfriends, long walks in the countryside where I grew up, drinking beer in a local pub, village jumble sales and fates, proper curries, seeing old school mates. It's what drives me to endure the ridiculously long journey home and the anxiety leading up to it.

Stir all that excitement around with a big helping of guilt at putting Maggie through the arduous journey and seperating her from her dad for a relatively long periods of time and it makes me feel pretty weighty. And whilst Kim and I actually love having the time apart for all those reasons of rekindled love, appreciation and having time to do our own thing, I actually feel abit like my right arm has been cut off when he's not by my side.

But it will always be this way. I will never be able to have everyone and everything in the one place at one time. I will never be able to make my two life's collide. And I make no apoligies for feeling sad about this. No matter how hard I try not to, I will always miss home and will always feel the need to return.

So now I'm here, in Somerset England and still it's beauty just blows me away. The feeling of belonging is something I will never be able to explain.

Tomorrow another lovely family reunion with my dear Aunty Florrie who this year celebrated her 100th birthday. And Sunday a day on the beach with my bestie and her boys. Time really does make the heart grow much fonder indeed.