In a golden coach

What were you doing on 2 June 1953? I was an over-excited seven year old, crammed with dozens of other children into a neighbour's living room, watching the coronation of Queen Elizabeth on a nine inch television screen. The  country hadn't seen such festivities since VE Day, eight years earlier. Our streets were decorated with red, white and blue bunting, interspersed with gold coloured cardboard crowns. We had street parties and games and the whole world seemed to be a happy, fun-filled place, especially as sweet rationing had ended a few months earlier and we children were given bags of sweets and chocolate.

The young queen brought hope to the nation still suffering the after-effects of war. The ubiquitous song of that time sounds corny now but it really was on the lips of everyone from schoolchildren to bus conductors, shopkeepers and roadsweepers.

  Of  course, the television coverage that we watched was in black and white and the tv screen was tiny but it was still magical. We were to see the splendid colourful spectacle in the cinema later. 


Coronation fever seemed to last for months. Our school year always ended with a "Field Day." We walked in procession with brass bands, banners and morris dancers to a field several miles away where our parents had been busy erecting stalls for the sale of cakes, fizzy drinks and ice cream. There were swing boats and roundabouts, coconut shies and hoopla. We had dancing displays and races; it was one of the highlights of our year. My class was chosen to present a pageant of the coronation. The golden coach was replaced by a flatbed trailer. Bernadette Beasley was chosen to be the Queen and I was one of her six ladies-in-waiting. (That's me standing behind her majesty)

The pictures, like me, show signs of their age but they bring back very happy memories of a lost time of simple, innocent enjoyment. I lost touch with all the other children in these photos when I moved to a different school but I know what the real queen has achieved in the 60 years of her reign; few people can match her devotion to duty - all her promises fulfilled. 

Traveller's tales #2

Stage 2 of our holiday was a very short break in the Peak District.   We haven't visited the area before and we only decided to go when our plans to see Lincoln fell through but we saw enough to make us want to go back for a much longer holiday.

The Peak District is mainly in Derbyshire but also extends into Cheshire, Staffordshire and Yorkshire. Driving out to explore the countryside, we found ourselves crossing several county boundaries but our base was at Monsal Head in Derbyshire.

This was the view from our bedroom window, the viaduct over the River Wye.

This is great walking country but with only 3 days at our disposal we decided to drive around to see as much as possible and plan a future walking holiday. The landscape is truly magnificent, words like splendour and majestic peppered our conversation as we drove over peaks and down dales. It was a great contrast to our gentle rolling hills and lush patchwork landscape here in North Devon. Here we see very little of the farmland from the narrow lanes because of the high banks and hedges but the Derbyshire farmers use dry stone walls to edge their fields and it is easy to stand on the roadside and look across at what looks like a child's drawing of fields with heavy black-crayoned dividing lines.

I thought of the effort and determination of the men who carted all that stone into these remote parts and painstakingly built the walls. We had to drive many miles before we found a quarry:

Huge trucks carry the stone nowadays but I imagined horses struggling up the hills with their heavy loads in former times.

We stayed at Castle Cliffe hotel at Monsal Head. It has stunning views and is the perfect base for walking or visiting local towns and villages. We have stayed in very many hotels and guest houses in UK but none compare with the comfort and friendliness of this one. Jackie, the owner, helped us with our bags and then invited us into the lounge for tea and home made cake. The breakfast menu was superb; I  had to try a Derbyshire oatcake with bacon and maple syrup and it was scrummy. We had excellent dinners in the Monsal Head Hotel and at the Packhorse Inn in nearby Little Longstone. To get to the latter, we had to walk along a "special off-road pedestrian walkway" which here in Devon we call a pavement!

We didn't have very much time for exploring but we made short stops in Buxton and Bakewell. I went to one of the three bakeries that claim to be "the original Bakewell pudding shop."

I was relieved to find that the pudding was quite unlike the sweet Bakewell tart that one usually finds in the supermarket.

 This was light and not too sweet with an almond base.

As a regular reader of  Rattling On, where I have seen many photos of the wonderful scenery, architecture and other features of the Peak District,  I was delighted to come across one of the dressed wells that she has posted about.

Dressed Well at Longnore

Ours was a very brief visit, on our way to Yorkshire. We hope to go back to see much more of this National Park.

Traveller's tales #1

I didn't manage to get online at all while I was away but I did have my camera with me most of the time. I am gradually reading all the posts I have missed in my favourite places and I hope to catch up with everyone soon.

Where have I been? First to Oxfordshire to spend 5 days with my daughter and her family; then to the Peak District for a few days; on to York then a week in a cottage in the Yorkshire wolds. We saw parts of England we haven't visited before and our belief that England is the best place in the world has been reinforced!

 The family visit was, of course, about spending time with the grandchildren. Here is Benjamin, now 6 months old, wearing the sweater I made. And here is Millie wearing the tiger face that Grumpy made!

 

Abingdon is the nearby town and on the day we went in there was an Italian market in the market square:

We sampled (and bought!) lots of olive oils, vinegars, truffle pate and wonderful breads. The Town Crier put in an appearance and everyone joined in with his "God bless the Queen and God bless Abingdon!"

We assembled a picnic from the Italian goodies on display and headed for the river.

Millie wanted to swim with the cygnet but Grumpy rescued her

and she eventually joined us for the picnic. What fun it is being two and a half but how exhausting for grandmas and grumpies!

I couldn't resist the autumn/winter collection in the Abingdon stores and here is one of the winter coats I bought, although I will have to lose many inches before I can wear it

Tomorrow I'll be off to the Peak District.

A miracle of deliverance

"A miracle of deliverance" is how Winston Churchill described the evacuation of British and French troops from the beaches of Dunkirk between 26 May and 4 June 1940. More than 330,000 men were stranded, driven back to the coast by the advancing German army.  Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay  masterminded Operation Dynamo, a plan to rescue as many men as possible.

A fleet of cargo ships, passenger ferries, barges and coasters was assembled at Dover and Southampton, with Royal Navy minesweepers, corvettes and destroyers for protection. However, the shallow slope of the beaches of Dunkirk prevented the ships from getting close to the shore, so smaller craft would be needed to ferry the soldiers from the beaches out to the ships waiting a mile off shore. 800 pleasure boats, lifeboats, Thames barges, tugs and fishing boats set off with volunteer crews, many of whom had never sailed outside coastal waters. Under attack from German fighter planes and bombers, dodging mines and submarines and under fire from coastal defences, they picked up soldiers from the beaches, took them to the waiting ships and went back for more.

 

 About 338,000 British troops were rescued and, on the last night, some 26,000 of the French rearguard were picked up by British, French ,Belgian and Dutch vessels.

 The 70th anniversary is being commemorated by a smaller fleet of small boats  making that same journey under very different circumstances. Many of them took part in Operation Dynamo and have been proudly restored for this occasion. Sometimes I am very proud to be British!

Bring us a Trollopian Prime Minister

".... He should have rank, and intellect, and parliamentary habits, by which to bind him to the service of his country; and he should also have unblemished, unextinguishable, inexhaustible love of country ... as the ruling principle of his life; and it should so rule him that all other things should be made to give way to it.... " 

I wish!

Trains, boats, ducks and geese

My daughter and her family sold their London flat before Christmas and moved to a village just a few miles from Oxford. My husband (the MM) and I took granddaughter Millie into Oxford one day last week. The train journey was an exciting experience for each of us in different ways: Millie was thrilled when the engine driver waved to her and then entertained all our fellow passengers with her commentary on everything that she could see from the window on the 7 minute journey into the city. It ran something like this: "Bye bye tree; bye bye ubber tree; bye bye ubber tree; bye bye horse; bye bye ubber horse; bye bye dog; bye bye ubber tree ....." There are many trees alongside the track!

The exciting elements of the journey for Grumpy and Grandma included negotiating 4 flights of steps and a bridge with a pushchair and toddler; discovering that nappy-changing facilities at Oxford station are in the LOCKED disabled toilet and the man who has the key is well-hidden from the public; finding that many people, especially young men, were helpful when they saw obviously inept grandparents struggling with doors etc.

First familiar sight in Oxford - not a dreaming spire but....

We didn't think that Millie would be very interested in the colleges but here's a glimpse of a spire, just to prove that these really are Oxford bicycles

 I did say a glimpse

Of course, what Millie really wanted to see was the Oxford canal with its narrow boats.

 

Some have interesting names such as this one, named after Frideswide, the 7th century Abbess of Oxford and patron saint of the city. Many are decorated with pots of flowers and herbs and most have bicycles tied up alongside, ready for the last minute dash to seminars.

If only this were a real lock, we might go sailing up to Coventry!

Although I have had a boating holiday on the Thames and spent many a pleasant hour punting on the Isis, I have never been on board a narrow boat. I have always considered them as attractive and rather romantic vessels but I am currently reading Terry Darlington's Narrow Dog to Carcassonne and my views are being seriously challenged.

The boats share the canal with ducks and Canada geese

Millie was delighted with these but puzzled by this headless creature:

The purpose of our visit was to buy a present for Baby Benjamin so we had, reluctantly, to leave the canal and walk along to Cornmarket Street, where it is advisable to look up to see the splendid architecture above the modern shop fronts:

This beautiful Tudor house is also a mobile phone shop and sandwich bar!

At this point the heavens opened and we ran for shelter and the camera was put away for another day.

Recent peregrinations

I am home after a most enjoyable period of visiting family and friends. I travelled by train, something that I really enjoy when it goes well and I'm pleased to report that this trip was pretty good. The seat reservation system and the heating on a couple of Virgin trains failed but Cross Country service was excellent and all trains ran on time.

 

England is a green and pleasant land for most of the year and this picture, taken in Lancashire, could have been taken in any of the counties I passed through. Just hours after I took it, those fields were covered in snow but English weather is very changeable and it was clear again a day later.

The green line marks my journey from Devon to Lancashire. I spent a week there, visiting lots of family members within the blue triangle. Family visits are only of interest to those taking part so I will only mention one that had an interesting outcome: a visit to my niece who recently moved to a tiny village in the stunning valley of the West Pennine Moors. While admiring the views from her windows and the oak beams and stone floors in her 300 year old cottage, I mentioned Random Distractions and, as a result, she has started her own blog called Lassy in Lancashire. I hope you'll go over and offer some encouragement.

After my all too brief time in Lancashire, I took the train to Bristol and had an even shorter visit with my son and his wife and my lovely granddaughter, Charlotte.

 

 We all went to Oxfordshire on Saturday to see Millie and her Mum and Dad. The two little cousins had a good time but we saw glimpses of mischief to come! My son has posted some photos and video on Charlotte's blog so those of you who can access it will see  just what I mean.

Now I'm back in Devon, catching up with the housework and working my way through all the blog posts I've missed while away. I will be thinking of some way of marking the fourth birthday of Random Distractions later in the week so watch this space.

Mellow fruitfulness

Egremont Russets, Kentish cob nuts, damsons (in distress).

Works in progress

It has really been indoor weather for several weeks. The garden is looking overgrown and straggly after all the wind and rain so I will have to get out there soon to tidy up before the visitors start to arrive. One visitor who won't notice the weeds is Millie, who is arriving tomorrow for a long weekend. We are hoping that her cousin (Baby Brit) will be born before she goes back to London, then we can all drive up to Bristol to meet him/her together.

Like London buses, these cousins arrive in threes! A few weeks ago, Millie's uncle and aunt on her daddy's side of the family produced twins, a girl and boy. I have made a nappy stacker and some drawstring bags for Millie to take to them. I imagine anything to help save space will be appreciated with two lots of everything to store.

Teddy bears and butterflies

I bottled my lavender champagne and some lavender cordial and even made some lavender biscuits, so I suppose I should be a little grateful that the rain has kept me indoors.

As requested, here is the link for the recipes for lavender biscuits and champagne.

Summer is coming in

Or, to put it in a 13th century way, sumer is icumen in.*
The lavender is coming into flower and I'll soon be busy making lavender biscuits, cordial and champagne. It is also time to eat lovely salads made with home grown goodies.


And then, of course, there is Wimbledon. It would be good to see Andy Murray win but even if he doesn't, it has been great to see those traditional Fred Perry shirts and shorts.
* Okay, you purists, I know it really is really a song about Spring! But it always makes me think of summer.

Sing! cuccu, nu. Sing! cuccu.
Sing! cuccu. Sing! cuccu, nu.

Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
And springeth the wude nu.

Awe bleteth after lomb,
lhouth after calve cu,
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,
Murie sing! cuccu.
Cuccu, cuccu,
Well singes thu, cuccu -
Ne swik thu naver nu!

Thanks to erp for suggesting this:

Painted ladies come to call

It has been a gloriously sunny day today so I have spent a lot of time in the garden. Even mother-in-law, who generally complains of the short walk from her room to the dining room, was persuaded to join us for lunch al fresco.

We noticed that we had a few uninvited but most welcome guests; at first just two Painted Ladies who were joined by a few more. At the last count there were fifteen.

I had heard that there are lots of painted lady butterflies in England this year but it was a lovely surprise to see so many in my garden.



If you spot Painted Ladies in your area, you can help Butterfly Conservation to map their migration by recording your sightings here.

The road that leads home

I have been in Lancashire for a few days, attending my niece's wedding and catching up with family and friends. It was really good to be there for such a joyous occasion since my visits in the last few years have been more solemn, visiting sick relations or attending funerals.

We set out after lunch on Thursday on what should have been a four to five hour journey. The first two hours went well, with very little traffic on the motorway but then the traffic announcements started: a lorry had shed its load, a pothole had opened in the road, a caravan had overturned and so on. The predicted long delay became a tailback of 7 miles, then 27 miles then between three,four then five, motorway junctions and growing longer. We had to choose between sitting in a queue of traffic for many hours or leaving the motorway and driving in the real world. This was one of the occasions when I was very glad that I had married a professional navigator!

We drove through parts of Shropshire and Cheshire on the wonderfully straight and wide Roman roads. We could see for miles across fields, rivers and canals, such a different experience from driving through narrow Devon lanes with their high banks and hedgerows.

Here are just a few of the sights we would have missed if we had stayed on the motorway:Stapeley Water Gardens
Churche's Mansion House, Nantwich

River Weaver, Nantwich

Aqueduct, Nantwich

Sankey Canal

Driving through the beautiful northern countryside, I was reminded of the pre-motorway and seatbelt days of my youth, when we would squeeze six or eight people into a car and head for the country pubs or picnic spots. I suddenly had an almost physical longing to be back there and thought of Mole, in The Wind in the Willows, being overwhelmed by the sense of his Dulce Domum:
He stopped dead in his tracks, his nose searching hither and thither in its efforts to recapture the fine filament, the telegraphic current, that had so strongly moved him.......... Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way!........ his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never sought again... he had hardly given it a thought, so absorbed had he been in his new life, in all its pleasures, its surprises, its fresh and captivating experiences. Now with a rush of old memories, how clearly it stood up before him in the darkness.

Mole goes back to his old home and enjoys all the "familiar and friendly things" again but he realises that he doesn't really want to give up his new life above ground, "But it was good to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome." Like Mole, I thoroughly enjoyed my brief time in my old haunts, but I suppose one can never really go back. I do recommend leaving the motorway and driving through your childhood memories, though.