Seasonal Pleasures

One of my favourite cookery books is Seasonal Pleasures by Rosamond Richardson and I was flicking through it's pages today seeking inspiration for something to do with all our gooseberries. We have made a few jars of jam but we wanted to try something else this year.



I think of all the summer berries gooseberries are my favourite - in fact there is nothing like a good gooseberry crumble served with either custard, greek youghurt or vanilla ice cream as a special pudding - so a few of those will be made and frozen and we have decided to try gooseberry chutney and gooseberry and elderflower preserve too.

A walk before rain

It was 10a.m. as we pulled into the parking area near Wetton Mill and there was only one other car standing there. As we were pulling on coats and checking that car doors were locked a man approached us to ask if we were from the Hanley Walking Club. We said we weren't and he seemed disappointed. Apparently they were supposed to meet at 10a.m. for a walk - I do hope they all turned up eventually. We wandered along the trail from Wetton Mill towards Thor's Cave. The air was damp with just the occasional spot of rain and it was so peaceful that the quiet seemed almost touchable; just the occasional squawk of a crow or coo of a pigeon to break the intense silence. Two squirrels ran out of the undergrowth and along the path in front of us before they veered off to the other side, up the nearest tree and disappeared. A redstart flitted across a small field where two calves and their mother peered at us from the shelter of their disintegrating barn.



The last time we'd walked this route was in autumn when the trees and hedgerows were russet red to pale yellow in colour and the wild rose hips and sloes were lingering on the bushes along the pathway. Today the hedgerows were fresh and green and the predominant colour on the path sides was a silvery white interspersed occasionally with the pale bright blue of the meadow cranesbill which grows in profusion in this area. The white, of course, from the Cow Parsley or Keck as it is sometimes called. There was a huge expanse of it just near the pathway up to Thor's cave.



As we stood gazing up at the cave deciding that we couldn't make it up there today a voice said 'Does the bear still live in there?' We turned to see a man and his son who had been gazing at the information panel which had a picture of a bear in the mouth of the cave. He was smiling in fun but his son looked slightly worried. 'No', we said 'it's long gone' I think they were possibly Dutch or German but their spoken english was perfect. They set off to make their way up to the cave whilst we turned and made our way back to the mill arriving at the cafe just as the heavens opened. We sat with steaming hot mugs of coffee and pieces of homemade lemon cake, the tortoiseshell cat was in her usual place on one of the benches, used to all the fuss and attention she gets and taking it all in her stride, whilst outside the ducks gathered near the tables waiting for a crumb or two - unfortunately we were all inside with the cat.

Foxglove on Cannock Chase

We had a lovely walk on Cannock Chase this morning. It was warm and sunny after the last few rainy days so we tried to make the most of it as rain is expected again tomorrow. As soon as we got home I mowed the lawns, strimmed the edges and cleared the moss from under the garden seat whilst Paul made pizza for tea and enough bread to last us the rest of the week. All very ordinary stuff; I'm afraid I haven't many words at the moment - writer's block perhaps?

Mock Orange

Last summer we forgot to prune back the Philadelphus or Mock Orange tree and this is the result. This variety is Philadelphus 'Virginal' and has lovely double bloomed flowers which have a sweet, gentle fragrance. Early this morning the boughs were drooping with the weight of both the flowers and the rain.

A Tranquil Place

I thought this gateway was lovely; it drew me in I wanted to go through and seek out what was on the other side. The photo below shows what is beyond this gate - the tranquil, churchyard of St Katherine's church, Teversal, Nottinghamshire.

Actions Speak Louder than Words

There was a report tonight on the local evening news concerning the proposed closure of the main city post office which I mentioned in a post a few weeks ago. On Monday a group of about 100 pensioners, organised by North Staffs Grey Power, marched from the main post office into the Potteries Shopping Centre up the two flights of escalators to W.H.Smith and queued to buy books of second class stamps. They were making a point about the difficulties of gaining access to post offices services and also how difficult it would be for W H Smith staff to deal with the post office business as well as their own sales. There will be lots of business; I've queued in the main post office sometimes with 40+ other folks. The shopping centre manager escorted the protesters through the centre flanked by security guards and would only let a few people at a time into Smiths - as someone said in the newspaper afterwards - they wouldn't have done that if there had been a queue for a book signing at the store. The pensioners have the backing of Stoke Central MP Mark Fisher. It was great to see them all marching through the town just wish I'd known about it - I'd have gone and joined them; after all it's not just pensioners who need post office services is it?

A Week of Sunshine and Showers

I think the photo below sums up how the week has been for us. As it has been half term we have had days out and about and the house and garden have been somewhat neglected. Having said that yesterday Paul trimmed the front hedge on both sides and tidied up the pond. Today I mowed the grass and did some weeding. On Thursday we met up with family at Teversal Manor it really is the most delightful place. When we visited last year the sun was shining; this time it was raining - we had a tasty lunch and a wander around the lovely gift shop and then a quick look at the church accompanied by sun, rain and rumbles of thunder in the distance. Unfortunately is was too wet to go into the garden but I know we will go back again before too long.



This morning we drove over to the Wolseley Centre Nature Reserve which belongs to the Staffordshire Wildlife Trust. The photo below is of one of the lakes on the complex which also has an interesting visitor centre as well as habitat trails, orchard, woodlands and sensory garden.



This is Chloe enjoying watching the frogs and newts in the pond. It's one of her favourite places. She always gets her tail wet through.

Bakewell

Yesterday morning we drove over to Bakewell. We followed our usual route through Ipstones, Warslow, Hartington, Monyash and into Bakewell. We parked up quite easily on the large car park on the island and made our way over the river into the town centre. We had a good wander round; it seemed ages since we were last there and many shops had either closed or changed hands and new coffee and tea shops seemed to have sprung up all over the town.



For instance I don't think this was here last time we visited - the original Bakewell Pudding shop is still on the main street - this one seems to be trying to take over - Pudding Factory no less!



We normally have elevenses in the cafe above the Farmer's market shop near the river but yesterday we had coffee and scones in the Antique Shop and above is the view from the window as we sat enjoying our coffee. By the time we came out the sunshine had gone and a slight drizzle had taken it's place.



We went down to the river and crossed over to the cattle market to see what the farmer's market had to offer. Lots of lovely things to eat or grow. People were queuing for fish, smoked meats, wild mushrooms, every flavour of cheese you could imagine and lots of lovely crusty bread. We bought cottage loaf style rolls, garlic and wild mushroom cheese and organic apple juice for a picnic. By this time the town was getting crowded and the car park had filled up so we set off towards home stopping on the way back for our late lunch picnic and a mooch around the wonderful bookshop at Brierlow Bar.

Only a Rose

The first roses of the year are always the yellow ones. In the list of 'The Meaning of Flowers' it says that the yellow rose indicates - Friendship; Joy and happiness; Jealousy; Trying to care; and Gladness. Such a lot for a small rose to live up to - well they certainly make me happy and I'm always glad to see them.

I 'm rather concerned about the idea for councils to put micro chips in wheelie bins so they can weigh people's rubbish and charge them for the disposing of it. I can see where they are coming from and agree that something has to be done but isn't this idea open to abuse? Whilst I put my bin out on the morning of collection a lot of my neighbours put their bins out the night before, presumably because they have to dash off to work early in the morning. I have a vision of people tiptoeing about late at night putting their waste into other people's bins. Perhaps the solution is to have a padlock on the bin but then that would take the refuse collectors twice as long to do their round; maybe we will have to stand guard over our bins until they are emptied. The people who make these plans seem to have a very rose tinted view of the world.

I was also pondering today about what may have happened to the Pilsbury Dough Man? Does anyone remember him?

You wait for ages then.........

On Sunday, after an invigorating walk around Trentham Lake, we decided to pop down to the Wedgwood Visitor Centre at Barlaston - just a short drive away - for elevenses. We parked near the cricket ground not far from the station, walked through the back of the factory and into the shop. The place was quite busy, as usual, with coaches full of tourists, all wanting to have their photo taken next to Josiah Wedgwood; by the time I took the photo below they had all gone on the factory tour.



After coffee and cheese scones in the Ivy House Cafe we wandered out to have a look at the building work for the new Wedgwood Museum and discovered these:-



We had somehow found ourselves at a vintage vehicle rally which had taken over much of the visitor car park at the centre. We spent ages wandering round and saw some wonderful old buses.



'Hold very tight, please' - Ding, Ding.

Rain Drenched Peonies

I just thought you would like to see this photo. I went out yesterday into the damp, misty and rain filled garden and found them. I always forget how beautiful they are and what memories they evoke. I see the peonies and am instantly transported back to my childhood and I'm playing on our front lawn with my friends. We have mother's clothes horse covered with a blanket and it is our tent. We have a small mat and some cushions inside and our dolls lined up against the inside wall. We are playing 'house'. Outside in the late spring sunshine the grass is a rich green, the heavily laden lilac tree casts its heady scent over our playground and in the bed near the front window of the house are the blowsy, deep rich ruby-red peonies.

Books and Bottle Ovens

I've just finished reading the book below. Written by Carol Lake in the 1980s and published in 1989 it is a series of stories about the area of Rosehill in a Midlands town that is actually Derby. The stories are warm and vibrant, even though they are about poverty, unemployment and inner city re-development. I discovered an evocative quote in here around which could be built a great story when the author describes two retired school teachers as 'living behind their dusty laurel hedges and stained-glass vestibule' - wonderful.

I particularly enjoyed the story The Trip which was about an evening visit by train to the 'Venetian Nights' at Matlock Bath. This brought back many memories of visits made as a child to this festival . Whilst I'm on the subject of Matlock Bath, a place we often pass through on our way between Stoke and visiting relatives at Chesterfield - we do stop there quite often too at either Cromford Mill or Masson Mill or Matlock itself for coffee and a look around - last week I received the book I won in a competition, kindly posted to me by the author himself with other goodies including a pen, bookmark and signed photograph. Many of the scenes in this book are in and around Matlock Bath, I did borrow it from the library earlier this year but it is wonderful to have my own copy.

I can recommend any of Stephen Booth's books, they are all wonderfully well written. If you like crime novels and the Peak District then you couldn't ask for more. I've sent a small thank you card to Mr Booth with a bottle oven on it which I bought in the Museum on Saturday. I hope he doesn't mind me sending it. Whilst I'm on the subject of bottle ovens when we were in the Museum we were able to look at the plans for 'the future of Stoke-on-Trent' which amongst many other bright and innovative ideas is a plan for huge glass bottle ovens in the city centre which will house gardens and cafes and walkways. When I saw the drawings I thought of the Winter Gardens in Sheffield and also the pyramid entrance to the Louvre in Paris. It all looks wonderful but will it ever happen? People are already complaining that the £100 million could be put to better use when the hospitals are struggling and old peoples homes are closing down - and I understand what they mean - but of course, the money comes from a different 'pot' which can't be used for other projects. It will be interesting to see what happens.

A Busy Day

As we had to stay around home because of Max we spent most of yesterday in the garden. I mowed the lawns and weeded some of the flower beds whilst Paul dug up a small tree and moved it to another part of the garden. When we moved here a decade ago the garden was well planted and easy to maintain but as the trees and shrubs have grown bigger it has highlighted a problem with the planting done by the previous owners. I think they hadn't thought about how big the plants would grow so that now we seem to have areas of the garden where everything is close together and then large areas of space. We are trying to rectify this by moving some of the shrubs and replacing others.

Lots of the plants are in flower in particular this clematis which winds its way up into the trees at the top of the garden - I think it always looks so pretty. There is a house at the bottom of our street which has this variety all around the side of the building and then across the front door and down one side of it. It looks wonderful.

Above is the chaos that is the middle bed of the garden near the pond. It is very difficult to weed as the soil is clay and at present very dry and hard. The orange flower is Geum 'Dolly North'. The rest of the bed is filled with Aquilegias, also known as Columbines, of all colours and they spread and spread each year. Also in there are 'London Pride' and Geum 'Rivale'. Later the hardy Geranium 'Anne Thompson' will flower. You can just see one of the feathery branches of the Tamarisk tree which at this time of year is a lovely pale pink.

Mad Max

Yesterday Max had to go into the vets to get his teeth sorted out. He ended up having several extractions as well as a scale and polish. We brought him home armed with antibiotics, painkillers and special soft food; the nurse said he would probably sleep a lot and be very drowsy. Not so. He spent the evening racing around the house going round and round in circles until I was dizzy. We had to get up with him two or three times in the night as he just wouldn't settle but by morning he seemed to have calmed down and after he'd had his tablets and soft food we decided to let him out, even though we were supposed to keep him in for 24 hours, as he was desperate to be in the garden. He was fine and calmed down immediately.

In the middle of all this activity, around midnight I think, but at a point where we had just fallen asleep for a while there was a knock at the front door; as it was quite late we were a bit cautious but it was just a pizza delivery man who'd somehow got the wrong house number. I wonder if the people who'd ordered the pizza ever got their delivery?

Which Book to Choose?

So Waterstones want us to vote for our favourite book of the last twenty five years. They have presented a list of one hundred to choose from and of that one hundred I’m ashamed to say I have only read twenty; but they were all wonderful books. So how could I choose any one from the other? Am I qualified to vote having read so few? Here is a list of the ones I have read:-

Hawksmoor – Peter Ackroyd
Behind the Scenes at the Museum – Kate Atkinson
The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood
Regeneration – Pat Barker
Notes from a Small Island – Bill Bryson
Possession – A S Byatt
The Name of the Rose – Umberto Eco
Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
Briget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
Chocolat – Joanne Harris
Notes on a Scandal – Zoe Heller
Woman in Black – Susan Hill
The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things – Jon McGregor
The English Patient – Michael Ondaatje
Perfume – Patrick Suskind
The Secret History – Donna Tartt
Fingersmith – Sarah Waters
Oranges are not the Only Fruit – Jeanette Winterson
The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon

So, how do I choose between these wonderful books? The books that made me laugh perhaps? Then it would be Notes from A Small Island or Bridget Jonses’s Diary. Those that intrigued me? The Name of the Rose, The Secret History, Fingersmith, The Blind Assasin or Possession. Those that actually startled me? That would be Hawksmoor or The Woman in Black. The ones that moved me? Maybe The Remains of the Day, The English Patient, Birdsong, Regneration or Chocolat? Perhaps those that had elements of familiarity then say Oranges are not the only Fruit or Behind the Scenes at the Museum. Then again I could go for the books I’ve read more recently like Notes on a Scandal, The Shadow of the Wind, Perfume or If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things.

I wonder what I would think of the books if I went back and re-read them. Maybe they wouldn’t have the same impact a second time around. Of all the above books those that linger in my memory more vividly than the others are:-

Hawksmoor, The Name of the Rose, Fingersmith and If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things.

Can I choose four not one please? Also a book I very much enjoyed reading, seems like a decade ago now, The Quincunx by Charles Palliser, isn't on the list.

Of course, this is all diversion tactics to take my mind off the real issue of the day because I'm sitting here with fingers and toes crossed that the BNP don't win all the seats in our ward at today's local elections - the very thought fills me with dread. As soon as the worker comes home we will be off to vote and then it will be a long agonising wait to see what happens - I may even say a little prayer.

Yoxall Lodge Bluebell Woods

Yesterday was our twenty eighth wedding anniversary. Funny to think that I spent the first twenty eight years of my life unmarried and the second twenty eight married. Now you know how old I am, oh well. Doesn't time fly? Taking my cue from a lovely photo on Robert's blog when asked where I would like to go I said that I wanted to see some bluebell fields. So off we went to the woods at Yoxall Lodge. We'd never been before and weren't sure of what to expect so as the place didn't open until 10.30a.m. we went first to the Byrkley Garden Centre near Barton under Needwood for morning coffee and luscious home made cake. We then made our way over to Yoxall Lodge and the start of the walks around the woods. There were various walks of differing lengths to suit all abilities, the longest being about 2 miles. The colours were just stunning.

There is something mystical about the delicate colour of the flowers and the way they seem to stretch into infinity under the trees; a wonderful magic blue carpet. The walk reminded me of the woods near where we used to live in Derbyshire. As children, we would be taken from school by one of the teachers on what were called 'nature walks' and we would bring back the things we found to be displayed on the 'nature table,' these treasures were then suitably labelled; paintings we'd done would be displayed on the wall above the table. Also, in the evenings or at weekends, groups of us children would set off on our own around the woods and we would always come back with a bedraggled bunch of bluebells for our mothers - I don't think today's children would be allowed to do that. The flowers would be put in a jam jar or milk bottle on the kitchen windowsill. My mum used to love them. Today would have been her 91st birthday - so the bluebell visit was for her too.

Thank You Mr. Shakespeare

Apart from being St. George’s Day, today is thought to be not only the date of the birth of William Shakespeare in 1564 but also the day upon which he died in 1616. As some of you will know I am a great lover of Mr. Shakespeare and his plays so I've decided today to acknowledge this with my recollections of some of the most memorable performances I have been privileged to see. The ones where I sat enthralled, almost unaware of my own existence; the ones that left me feeling as if Ihad been touched by magic; the ones that filled me with joy and the ones where I left the theatre floating on air.

My very first experience of Shakespeare was the BBC’s 1965 production of the Wars of the Roses, seen in black and white on a small TV screen. I remember staying up late to watch with my fingers crossed that there wouldn’t be a power cut, I was beside myself with happiness then, I lived and breathed every word – I was a teenager and my family didn’t understand. My first visit to the RSC's theatre at Stratford was to see Coriolanus with Ian Richardson in the title roll. Perhaps not the best play to start with but once I’d taken that initial step I returned again and again – I was hooked.

There are many memories of countless performances but those I remember without even searching through my programme collection are as follows. A gloriously joyful The Comedy of Errors at Stratford with a cast including Judy Dench and Michael Williams. The cast came out into the audience at the end and we all joined in the final song. A stirring Henry V, again at Stratford, with Alan Howard in the title role. Nottingham Playhouse in the early seventies two equally stunning performances of Hamlet, one with Alan Bates as the Prince the other with Ian McKellan. A stunning Richard III at the National Theatre again with Ian McKellan. A dreamy and colourful Love's Labour's Lost with Ian Charleston, Alan Rickman, Richard Griffiths and David Suchet. I remember sitting through three productions in one day when the RSC at Stratford presented The Plantagenets. We sat through it all again at the Barbican in London. Last but not least a magical amateur production of A Midsummer Nights Dream on midsummer's eve at the Stamford Shakespeare Company's open air theatre at Tolethorpe.

Thank you Mr. Shakespeare for some wonderful memories.

Cause for Concern

Two things have caused me concern over the last couple of days. On Friday I read in the local paper that the main post office in Hanley (the city centre) was to be closed sometime during the next 18 months and the service moved into W. H. Smith. Hanley is one of two remaining Crown post offices left in North Staffordshire the other is my local post office at Longton so if the closure in Hanley goes ahead what chance has the one at Longton got? Both of these post offices are widely used and there are always long queues, so how, with the best will in the world, is W.H. Smith going to cope? The closure in Hanley will mean the loss of twenty three jobs. How many of those jobs will move to W. H. Smith? Perhaps three or four at the most? It’s no surprise, then, that the post office union leaders are up in arms. The present Hanley post office is close to the city centre and just a short walk from the bus station and car parks. W. H. Smith is on the second floor of the Potteries Shopping Centre reached by lift or escalators. How are the elderly, infirm or disabled going to get there easily? Young mums with buggies are going to struggle too. It may make economic sense for various reasons to the powers that be – but it isn’t a lot of use to the customers, is it?

Then today I read some more disturbing news, namely that the BBC, as part of a cost cutting exercise, may axe their regional news programmes. Axe their regional news programmes? Are they mad? I really find this hard to contemplate but if it did happen I think it would be extremely short sighted of them. I love my regional news programme, Midlands Today, the presenters are excellent and the coverage and content of the programmes is wide ranging and informative. I sit down every evening at 6.30p.m. with my after dinner cup of coffee to find out what has been going on in the area and I much prefer the BBC programme to the Central News on the other channel. I would be lost without it.

You could say that I 'm anxious about these things because I’m getting older and set in my ways and therefore don’t react very well to change but if change is for the better then I don’t mind, I can cope with it; but I have to say that the two things above seem to me to be, not only a step backwards, but a whole leap in the wrong direction.

Whilst I'm having a moan can I add call centres? We've been having great problems with our internet service provider especially with uploading things like photos to the internet - we've rung three or four times and got nowhere - we think we may need a new modem, they blame our computer; either way they are really unhelpful. They stick rigidly to a set script and won't deviate from it, no one is prepared to take the initiative and go straight to the problem and sort it out. This is one change I do find difficult - the days of being able to ring an engineer and talk through the problem and solve it either by 'phone or with a home visit are long gone.

I have lovely photos of yesterday's outing but I can't get them into my Picassa web album until we can get things sorted.

A Bit of Luck

Just a quick post today. I mentioned a few weeks ago that I'd had a photo accepted for Doorways Around the World - well here it is - go and have a look. I'm really pleased with it. Have a look at the other photos too - aren't they wonderful?

Also more good fortune - this week I found out I'd won a competition on The Book Club Forum for a signed copy of a Stephen Booth novel - as he is one of my favourite authors I'm thrilled to bits.

Strange Things

By strange I don’t mean weird but just sort of unexpected or coincidental. The first thing happened a few days ago when we’d been to the supermarket and were waiting at the traffic lights near Longton Town Hall. I glanced into the mirror and saw walking up the pavement behind us a strange apparition. ‘Oh, look’ I said to Paul ‘it’s a miner.’ Now given that over the last few weeks, because of the centenary meeting for the Shirebrook Pit Cage Accident in which my great grandfather was killed, I’ve had pits and miners on my mind, I thought that I may be hallucinating. The miner walked past the car, not a miner from any memory in my lifetime, more like the miners I’d seen in old photographs or on stage in a play by D. H. Lawrence. This was a pre-pit baths, pre-pit-helmet miner – the kind who used to go home covered in coal dust to a tin bath in front of a fire. Just the whites of his eyes and the pink of his lips were gleaming through the dust and dirt. All this drifted through my mind in the few seconds it took him to stop and pose, his cap at a jaunty angle and his lamp held aloft, for a scurrying camera man in front of the town hall. I then noticed his very modern day companions dressed in gleaming white tee shirts, carrying white plastic buckets and water bottles. I was intrigued to say the least but at this point the lights changed to green and we were on our way.

A couple of days later I opened the local newspaper and there he was again. This wonderful man had walked for ten miles taking in each of the six towns posing for photos at each of the town halls dressed as a Victorian miner and wearing a pair of miners clogs weighing 4lbs each. Why, you may ask. Well the man in question, Keith Meeson who runs the Apedale Heritage Centre near Newcastle-under Lyme, did it to raise money for a memorial to the fifty seven men who lost their lives on New Years Day 1942 at Sneyd Colliery. He has been campaigning for four years for a permanent memorial to the men and because of his walk he now has £2,000 and the memorial can be built. How dedicated is that?

Second coincidence is that today I’ve had a lovely long letter from a friend and it turns out we were both visiting family on the same day not more than a couple of miles from each other. Paul and I were visiting his brother and family and after lunch we had a walk around Rufford Park – my friend was such a short distance away with her family. We could have waved and said ‘Hello’ – now that is strange.