Away from it all, close to home#2

The previous post is still there so I am going to be ambitious and add a few photographs to this one.

The farm cottage that we stayed in last week, just 22 miles from home, is one of a small complex of converted barns.

There was a photographic display of the derelict buildings before the work started in 1988 and the progress through the next year to bring them to the current state of luxurious comfort. The grounds are lovingly tended and there are ponds and woods and many interesting walks.

Since our main purpose in choosing such a venue was some R and R, we spent a lot of time reading. We had, of course, taken our own books but it is always interesting to see what other people have on their shelves. The dedicated "quiet room" had a wide selection of fiction and non-fiction for all tastes and ages but our cottage also had a full bookcase:

I was intrigued when I saw twenty diaries, covering the years 1989 to 2009, on the bottom shelf. I assumed that they were there for us to read and settled down with a cup of tea and the first volume. The entries began in April 1989 with the first guests to stay in the cottage. There was a note from the owner, inviting guests to record their activities during their stay, to tell a little about themselves, to mention places they visited and to recommend pubs and restaurants. It made for fascinating reading.

1989 was the year that we moved from Hampshire to Devon. It was an exceptionally warm and dry year; we arrived in January and spent the first few days on the beach instead of unpacking! That summer, like this year's, was glorious and we had lots of visitors to help us explore our new surroundings. Reading the diary entries, I was reminded of that time and the fun we had with our children and their cousins and friends; we were discovering the same places as those written about in the diaries. We always kept journals and scrapbooks, sitting round the table after dinner to write and draw about what we had done during the day.  The cottage guests did the same thing - there were entries from different family members who, like us, made recording the day's adventures an adventure in itself.

The first few diaries are quite full with visitors entering wholeheartedly into the exercise of building a history of these refurbished ancient buildings. Then I noticed a gradual decline in the amount that was written and in the number of people who would write anything at all. The 2000s saw fewer and fewer entries and in 2009 the owners must have decided to give up the idea and no more diaries were left with that kindly invitation to add to the records. I was saddened to think of what has been lost to our social history by the lack of interest in writing nowadays. I suppose future generations must look to Facebook and (dare I say it?) blogs to find out about everyday life in the 21st century.

This  made me nostalgic for the holidays we recorded when the children were small. I dashed off to get some of the scrapbooks down from the shelf where thay have been undisturbed for quite a few years. I realise how few photos there are, we didn't have digital cameras in those days. We enjoyed doing our own writing and illustrating.(Click on the pictures to see them more clearly)

This is a book from a holiday in Cornwall in 1984 when Andrew was 7 and Tanith 4 (and a half!) Andrew wrote about the game we played in the evening:

and Tanith drew a picture of the game of crazy golf we'd had:

One morning, my husband found a dormouse when he was on his early morning run and woke the children to admire it before returning it to the bushes:

Do you remember those long country walks I shared with you some time ago? The scrapbook from our Easter holiday in 1986 gives my account of one, alongside  my husband's illustration:

Now I remember why my son and daughter groan whenever LCWs are suggested! It is good to have these prompts to take us back to happy times. I am grateful to those families who took the trouble to fill in the diaries at Ham Farm, their memories are now part of the history of that time and place.

Buttons and bows

Wednesday has been the highlight of my week since the start of the writing course , led by my multi-gifted friend D of 60 Going On 16. Sadly, it  is drawing to a close.  I haven't enjoyed anything so much for a very long time and I hope that there will be more to follow.

One of the things that I've learned is that a simple word or phrase can trigger quite unexpected memories and associations, ideal stimuli for writing. One such exercise involved clothes and accessories; head down and no time to think, we rattled off as many as possible in a limited time. Reading them back, I found that I had marked milestones in my life with an item that I was wearing or had noticed on someone else. Everyone in the group was surprised to discover how significant clothes had been for us.

The bows that I remembered were the ribbons that my mother tied in our hair every day before taking us to school. Every day, my sister would come home with her plaits and ribbons intact and I would have lost one ribbon and my hair would be half plaited and half flying in an untidy mane. My poor mother became so frustrated that she cut my hair!

My earliest recollection was of a pair of buttoned leggings. I could not only visualise them but also recall their texture and the warmth and comfort they gave. I'm wearing them in this picture of my mother, sister and me arriving at the church for the wedding of one of my uncles.

I cannot possibly remember this occasion as it was before my second birthday and yet I have a strong sense of this sage green outfit, of having to sit still while the many buttons at the sides of the leggings  were done up and the black elastic straps wrapped around my shoes. Just over a year later, our baby sister was born and I suppose she inherited the little suit. Perhaps my memory is really of her little legs being buttoned into the leggings!

Are your milestones in life marked by the clothes you were wearing? Do share your stories.