Thoughts about moving

I still have an internet connection - Amazing! I couldn't sleep the night before last and ended up house-hunting. It was to be this year that we downsized, but the state of the economy dictated otherwise. Now we are doing various jobs which needed doing so that when we come to market the house next year it is all tickety-boo. All except the grass growing in the top guttering that is. 3 1/2 floors up - no ladder will reach - and my efforts (though gung-ho!) with a trowel lashed to the end of a long piece of wood only worked on the bit of guttering directly below the Velux window in the roof which I was hanging out of. Hmmm. Suggestions on a postcard please.

When househunting, I have a mental list of what I want (as opposed to DH, who has slightly different requirements) WWD (When We Downsize). We want 3 or 4 bedrooms (rather than the 8 we have here!), a nice light house (this is very gloomy, even on a bright summer day), easy to heat, with a nice roomy kitchen as we have here but with lots of storage space and an Aga. A wood burning stove in the sitting room and a big inglenook again. Lots of character and preferably a few beams. A good-size garden which wanders rather than one which is just a square in front of the house as it is here. DH (darling husband) would settle for a small sun-trap yard with NO GRASS (and no room). I would like fruit trees, an established soft fruit garden and well-dug veg plot, a small polytunnel would be nice - or the room for one - and definitely a greenhouse. A conservatory wouldn't' go amiss either, oh and a workshop for my beloved. Not on a busy road - set away on a no through road preferably because of the cats - but not too far from a town which would provide job possibilities for our younger son and daughter who will be moving with us. Possibly with an annexe for holiday letting or for one of our offspring to set up home in later (or us "olds" to move into in our dotage. Not too far from a shop, so OH can have his daily paper (he's such a newshound), and preferably on the edge of Dartmoor or on the Devon coast. I can see us going on Escape to the Country - or should that be, Escape From the Country to the Country?

Devon does offer a good selection of the sort of house/cottage we are seeking, but gosh, what an eye-opener some of them are. One place - I only looked at it because it had a lovely view - was NOT our sort of house, and inside it looked like something out of Footballer's Wives - everything pale and insipid and "dressy" with a pure white sitting room. Everything in it, from the carpet to the mirror and even the tv I think, was pure white. I couldn't help thinking, "no pets, no kids and I bet she doesn't make jam either . . ." It was so unwelcoming and unhomely. You'd be frightened to sit down, and your shoes would definitely be off at the front door . . . Not like my mish-mash of "collectibles", millions of books and lots of clutter and untidiness. I will have to tidy so much away before we have people to view next year, but I am NOT going to do the "everything beige and no personal belongings (pictures, photos, china, CLUTTER) etc. NO WAY. If people haven't the imagination to see beyond our colour scheme (largely soft yellow in the hallways etc to bring in as much light as possible) and can't imagine a wall without a picture on it, they're not the sort of people for our house.

So whilst we can't move just yet, I have sent for a few house details, and am carefully doing my research on potential areas, and if my darling husband thinks we are moving to Hadrian's Wall he can think on!!!

Baking bread without an oven . . . the old Cornish way

Interior of a cottage (c. about 1810) at St Fagans. This is the first of a row of terraced cottages which are decorated internally spanning a 150 year period.



I found a wonderful little book recently in Hay-on-Wye, for just £4; “Cornish Homes and Customs” by A K Hamilton, it harks back to a much earlier time – sometimes up to more than a hundred years before this. It is a fascinating book to read and I learn more with every page I turn. How to bake bread though you don’t have an oven was one such lesson. I will include the preamble to this, as it offers a fascinating insight into cottage life generally:

“Notwithstanding the fact that from the early part of the 18th century onwards coal was being freely imported for the use of the mines, furze and turf long continued to serve the needs of the people for all domestic purposes. In 1799 the overseers of Mylor parish were paying but 9d. hundred for furze faggots for the use of the poor-house, a price with which coal, however cheap, must have found it hard to compete. Indeed, until almost the end of the last century many Cornish houses knew no other fuel than that which came to them from within a short distance of their doors. In one or two instances these turf fires are said to have been actually kept alight for a hundred years, faithfully serving the needs of the inhabitants from birth to death (N.B. the same was said of the fire in the Warren House Inn on Dartmoor). Each night, the embers were banked up before going to bed, and the kettle hooked on to the cross-bar in the chimney. On coming down the next morning the water was always boiling, whilst sufficient fire still remained to fry the bacon and mashed potatoes for breakfast. After the meal, the hearth was swept clean, fresh turf was put on, and so the old fire entered on anther day of service and companionship to the household. With the aid of such fires as these the Cornish housewife contrived to do all the cooking for the largest family, asking nothing more than a ‘kettle’ for baking and a ‘crock’ for boiling. The kettle, it should be explained, in no way resembled the ordinary utensil of that name (which was distinguished in Cornwall by being termed a 'tay (tea) kettle’, but was simply an iron bowl with three legs capable of being stood on the ground like a small crock. Whenever baking had to be done, the brandis or heavy iron trivet was first drawn forward into the centre of the hearth and on it was placed a round sheet of iron, known as the ‘baking ire’. With the aid of the ‘fire-hook’, which took the place on the open hearth of a poker in ordinary grates, the smouldering embers were raked around the brandis and under the baking iron, and were fanned into flame with the (bellows). As soon as the baking iron had been heated in this way to the proper temperature it was taken off the brandis, carefully wiped and greased, and replaced on the hearth. On to it the bread or other food was then laid and covered by the inverted kettle. Hot embers were raked around, and a fire of furze and 'bruss' (dried hedge gatherings etc) built up over the whole. Beneath this the bread, protected from all dirt and ash, was left to cook for about an hour and a half, at the end of which time the embers were removed, the kettle lifted off, and there was the loaf baked to perfection! All sorts of dishes – heavy-cakes, pasties, and pies – were prepared in the same way, the only variation being that in some instances a ‘baker’ was used instead of a kettle. The former resembled in shape a heavy iron frying-pan without a handle, and differed from a kettle chiefly in having no legs. For boiling and stewing the crock was used, either placed on the brandis or hung from a cross-bar in the chimney.Occasionally, when very large joints of meat had to be roasted, the crock itself would be inverted over the baking iron in place of a kettle."

Enjoy. I temporarily have an internet connection, so will post this and run. "They" (BT) are finally shutting the road, lopping trees, replacing poles and rotten cable next Monday . . . It had better blardy-well work PERFECTLY after that . . . I have been going stir crazy here after so many weeks without broadband, and have been writing letters in desperation - but no one has written back yet!!!

St Fagan's - Museum of Rural life

The amazingly colourful cover of the font at St Teilo's church, now reconstructed at St Fagan's. The Star of David and the Tudor rose is incorporated in the design.


We had to pick up Middle Daughter (G) from Cardiff Airport this morning, so we made a detour and visited St Fagan's, as K and I wanted to see St Teilo's Church, which was taken down stone by stone from its old situation in Pontardulais, and re-erected in the grounds of this wonderful museum, amongst many other saved and re-erected buildings - from early Medieval houses to prefabs, and everything in between, including an excellent Iron Age Village. G had "breakfast" with us, then decided she had seen it too many times before (favourite destination of end-of-year school trips, and indeed, the place was packed with them today too!) so went back to snooze in the car.

Below, St Teilo's from the rear.



St Teilo's was built between 1100 and 1520, gradually being enlarged and altered. Around 1850 the church began to be used less frequently, probably due to its position on the edge of the marshes beyond Pontarddulais and the building of a modern church to cater for the increasing number of worshippers in Pontarddulais.

The wonderful wall-paintings which have been faithfully re-created from remains of the originals, date from the 16th century, but overall the murals began around 1350 and several layers and repaintings show they were improved or altered up until 1790.Pigments sourced from natural minerals and mixed with limewash, were used to create the colours. Black pigment was created from soot or charcoal. More expensive pigments included lapis lazuli which gave a rich blue, and a red from cinnabar. Gold and silver leaf were also employed. Egg yolk or linseed oil or buttermilk were used to bind the colour to the paint and the wall. Most churches were this colourful until the Civil War, after which the Puritans destroyed what they considered to be idolatorous and sinful and pagan imagery - in other words, the beautiful and colourful interiors of virtually every church in the land.

St Christopher, in his traditional position opposite the door.


The wonderful chequerboard patterning inside the archways.

The story of Teilo's life is shown here on the Rood Screen, but my arms were too short (and the camera too shaky at arm's length!) to take close-ups, so please go here for the story to unfold, with decent close-up pictures. Using Welsh oak, these carvings took a skilled carpenter over three months to design and carve.

This looks gloomy as the batteries were failing on my camera and sadly I couldn't use the flash, but you get the general idea.


For explanations of the carvings and symbols, visit here. We were hurrying and also talking to someone we met outside the church, so I missed several of them. Part of the church was roped off so we couldn't get near the altar, sadly. I even missed a Green Man on the ceiling!

St Fagan's first became interested in the church in 1982, although the procedures became stepped up in 1984 after the roof slates were stolen and the murals put at real risk from the weather. The church had very early origins - a carved stone inside its walls has been dated to around the 7th-9th century - but the first written mention of the church was in 1100. It's original name - "Llanteilo tal-y-bont" - means the church dedicated to St Teilo at the crossing place of the river (River Loughor). St Teilo was born in Pembrokeshire around 480 AD, and a contemporary of Dewi Sant (St David) and St Padarn.

Broadband . . .

I have a connection temporarily this morning, but it probably won't last. It's a week since the last connection. Please bear with me - it could be several weeks yet before the problem is fixed as the Council are now involved (to shut the road for tree lopping).

Missing you all and hope this connection holds.

Old books and Romsey Abbey

Romsey Abbey, Hampshire



Anyone reading this blog on a regular basis will know of my deep love of books - a passion really, since I would forgo almost anything in order to buy another book I have seen and desire. Some of them cost just pennies at the Car Boot Sale. Some are brand new and full price. Once they are on my bookshelves, I find it very hard to winnow out the ones I can live without. A recent Car Boot Sale acquisition was H V Morton's In Search of England, which cost me all of a pound. I have just turned to the pages where he moves on to Romsey from Winchester (in Hampshire). Romsey is where my mum's parents moved after WW1, and where I still have aunties and many cousins living. This was originally first published in 1927, and he could have been writing about my mum and her sisters when he wrote the following:

"Three small girls in white pinafores were nursing dolls in the graveyard; a butcher's boy in a blue pinafore cycled past with mutton, and down the elm walk there came an elderly man holding a posy of wallflowers in his right hand . . ."

And:

"Romsey, in the magic county of Hampshire, is the ideal small market town. Lord Palmerston, with bronze hair turned green by years of rain, stands importantly on a plinth in the market-place; a policeman in an easier attitude stands near him; there is a full cake-shop opposite; everything is slowed down to a reasonable pace; men in leggings stand on the kerbstone with the expressions of deep thinkers; now and then a man and cow cross the square."

My parents were married in Romsey Abbey. I have visited it many times over the years and here is Mr Morton writing about something I remember very clearly:

"There is in Romsey Abbey, in a locked box, a tress of auburn hair. It was found during excavations in the year 1839 in a leaden coffin of Saxon date under the floor of the south aisle near the abbess's door. The coffin was otherwise empty and the hair had been placed in a box of oak that rested upon a wooden stand. What, I wonder, is the story? How often a mystery like that hangs in the mind when the greatest monuments in a church have faded from remembrance."

As indeed, it has stayed in my mind all these years. I wonder who she was? A Saxon princess? A revered mother or sister or daugther? We will never know . . .

June is the month of roses . . .

Just to show that I can hold my own with rose displays, this is my Paul's Himalayan Musk in full fig . . . A shame we had grey skies and not blue ones. Anyway, double click for more detail.

My husband and I (always feel like the Queen when I write that!) have got back from taking our eldest daughter back to Sheffield and helping her and her boyfriend to move house. On the journey home we did a detour and visited Haddon Hall near Bakewell. It is apparently rated the best historical house in the country and we would second that. It is SO unspoilt and absolutely WONDERFUL. There will be several seperate posts about it, for as long as the broadband holds - we have it back after several days without. If I disappear again, you'll know we no longer have Four Blue Lights on the home hub . . .

The gardens there were just AMAZING and I had to be dragged away, protesting. If we didn't have a 6 hour journey ahead of us, we would have gone around the house and gardens again! The roses there were an absolute joy and the scent of Philadelphus (mock orange) was just wonderful. Even my husband (NOT a gardener) enjoyed it. They had a lot of David Austin roses, in fact, a LOT of roses, full stop. I was taking photos and thinking, oh I must have THAT in my next garden. I think I have a shopping list as long as your arm!

Now that our daughter is t'other side of Sheffield I have persuaded my husband that perhaps a different route to and from the city is in order, so we are exploring the possibilities at present, though in future we shall avoid going through the centre of Stafford just when the schools chuck out! As it was we ended up having fish and chips in Hay-on-Wye and having a lovely stroll around the evening streets in search of a bottle of wine to provide a night cap . . . We found some good A-road routes yesterday, and just need to tweek the route a bit. . .














If you can identify any of these, please let me know. I am about to sit here with my David Austin rose catalogue and see what I can find . . . then make a shopping list for When We Downsize!

I'm back - I think . . . I HOPE!

I loved this wooden statue in the car park. Apparently it is a Knight called "Mercia Man" and was carved from the remains of a beech tree by Philip Bews and erected in Gaol Street in 2000. It was commissioned by Herefordshire Council. Apparently Mr Bews roughed the Knight out with a chainsaw and then did the details using a chisel. The buildings on the Knight's head represent various buildings in Hereford and the old bridge, and he is carrying an apple in one hand (a cider apple of course!) and a Hereford Bull in the other . . . I don't know who is responsible for the cone, but they were good at climbing!

Well, we are now on our third day of four blue lights on the BT home hub. I can't quite trust in fate that it will stay that way, but I shall hope for the best. I have SO much to share with you and can hopefully reward your patience with some interesting titbits and photos again. I did begin by taking notes (esp. for my Nature Notes) but as the weeks went by I lost hope a bit, especially after being told it could be a month MORE before we had the broadband back.

Anyway, we have our eldest daughter home at present which is LOVELY and yesterday we went to Hereford for the day, as she wanted to see the Mappa Mundi in Hereford Cathedral. It so happens that Hay-on-Wye is on the way too . . . I expect that you know which way THIS post is going!

This beautiful "Magpie house" is from the Tudor period and stands in the middle of the city and now houses an excellent Museum with period furniture and original painted plasterwork. I took lots of photos but sadly cannot share them with you as I had to sign an indemnity form - which particularly said I was not to share them "electronically" . . . A pox on 'em . . .

Looking down the main thoroughfare. I was marched PAST all the plant stalls . . .

Another view of the wonderful museum, which was really light inside from all the windows.

A narrow street (this would be a "wynd" in certain towns) showing that it may once have had a runnel down the middle, as does Cheap Street in Frome, still . . .

There were some nice little shops but I didn't dare go into the Artisan wools one, having had quite a shock in a similar shop in Hay-on-Wye where the cheapest wools were over £5 a time, and several were £8.95 and even £10.95 a ball . . .

Below, a view across the Cathedral Close to some of the older buildings in Hereford.



Anyway, it was a really fabulous day out - but then I'm easily pleased! We wandered round the city and the cathedral, and asked where the Green Men were in the cathedral and the Verger showed us. They had school children and Very Loud Music when we arrived and the Cathedral was filled with a terrific atmosphere - last time we went, there were school children again but it was very subdued in there.

I'll come back and add some more details later, but No. 1 just-left-school son is waiting to come on.