Box of Delights

And who might this grim-looking crew be?  In fact, this is a picture taken to mark the Golden Wedding of my great-grandfather in 1926, pictured seated with his wife and surrounded by his seven children.  The mood certainly looks like a celebration, doesn't it?  The photo appeared in the local newspaper.

Family legend has it that the old man refused to change out of his clogs for the event, or the photo.  What his wife felt is not recorded, though doubtless after fifty years she was used to him. 

My great-grandfather was a farmer in Cumbria, but he was also a self-educated man, well-versed in the law.  In the attic of the farm where I was born remained part of his extensive library of second-hand books, history and non-fiction in the main, but with some collections of poetry.  I remember reading "Hiawatha" from a miniature Selected Longfellow.

 The story goes that as a youth he severed the ligaments in his ankle in an accident with a scythe.  They were on a remote farm, so his mother sewed him up with a sewing needle and in later life he walked with two sticks.    This did not stop him walking distances we would find unbelievable now, not as a sport but in order to visit the various cattle auctions.

The chap on the far right is my paternal grandfather, who was about thirty-nine at the time of the picture.  He looked very much like this when I knew him in his seventies.  On his feet he has a pair of stout boots, although he woould have worn clogs for every day, like his father.

I had never expected to see a photograph of my great-grandparents, but this one surfaced quite recently.  Perhaps someone also has an image of my maternal grandfather, a man I never met.


I thought I would share with you some images of the box I described in my last post.  This is a sycamore box, about a foot in each dimension.  Inset on each side are panels of silk, painted and embroidered, showing different natural scenes, possibly the four seasons.  This first one is definitely spring-like.

Or perhaps this increasingly green panel is Spring and the blue one Summer?

Here, the mood has changed to stormy.  The painting of the heron in flight is particularly dramatic.

 

 

And now all the colours are bleached and the bird has become a kestrel hovering.

I think these panels were embroidered by Meg Falconer, but I am not absolutely certain of that.

Inside the box are other containers, nestling one inside the other, like Russian dolls.  I won all this as a prize in 1983, and unpacking it was a revelation.





 

Double Damask

Some knitting to start with.  This is Austermann Step, in quite a lively colourway, ideal for country socks.  I bought the yarn in a little wool shop of the old school, tucked in behind the main street in Cockermouth.  As the very nice lady said, it would have been good to have a window, but she had wanted to get started again after the floods and this was better than nothing.  Sock yarn always comes in handy.

This week we have tackled the redecorating of the dining-room, another room which has been waiting for some time.  We have several massive items of furniture in there, and far too much junk, so the clearing of the decks was problematic.  In the end we tackled it in two halves, so that we could move items from one end to the other.

In our other recent projects we have chosen light refelective papers of a modern design, but here we wanted something more classic.   The papered walls have to sit against those fifteenth century beams on the fourth wall, after all.  What would the merchant have done all those centuries ago?  Perhaps some lime-wash?  Not rich enough for tapestry wall-hangings...  In the end we chose this ivory paper, in a pattern which reminds me of white linen damask tablecloths.  It certainly brightens up the room, though it is not very medieval.

 



A number of searches recently have picked up my images of our new wardrobe doors in Elephant's Breath and Dove Tail.  On the Farrow and Ball shade card, I would have read these as beige tones.  The tester pots gave a very purplish tinge on the old cream doors.  Now in place, one pair of doors reflects light from the window while the other is in shade. One looks like two tones of mushroomy grey, while the other has a more beigey look.  The point is, though, that the finish, using a roller to apply the top layers, is lovely and the effect subtle and understated.  My husband knocked them up out of MDF, but you would never guess.

Last Wednesday I gave a talk to the Art Group which meets regularly in my village.  I had given the same talk to my Weavers, Spinners and Dyers group last year, and this prompted a member of both groups to invite me to repeat it for them.  So what was it about?  In 1983, the Guild of Lakeland Craftsmen in Cumbria moved their annual exhibition from a venue in Windermere to a venue in Keswick.  To advertise this move they organised a competition, with the prize being created by their members.  I was lucky enough to win the prize, and I was presented with it by their President, Tobias Harrison.

 The prize is itself a kind of puzzle, as, from the outside, it looks like a wooden box with inset embroidered panels, about a foot square.  Inside is a series of nesting boxes, each made by a different member of the guild, in textiles, pottery, leather...  It is exciting to unpack for a new audience as the standard of workmanship of each item is so high.  It has given me lots of pleasure to own it over the years and it was good to show it off to an appreciative group.  Perhaps I will feature some of these pieces here in coming weeks.

Suffolk Coastal visit

Some time ago my husband spotted a concert at Snape Maltings in aid of the RSPB.   Would the programme be bird-themed, we wondered,  - "The Lark Ascending," perhaps?  But no. The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment: pieces by Handel, Corelli, and Pergolesi's "Stabat Mater."    We liked the sound of the whole thing.

Then I checked out the day courses on offer at Sutton Hoo: Battlefields and Bishoprics- that's in the 7th Century, at the time of King Raedwald's sons.  Once we had booked for that, we decided to take a cottage at Aldeburgh for a long weekend, hoping for good weather.

Friday saw us driving up the A12 to Framlingham, where there is a really impressive castle.  The main structure dates from the twelfth century, although each tower is topped by these curious Tudor chimneys, not all of them functioning.   You can walk all the way around the top of the walls, with wonderful views over the mere.

We have warm memories of Framlingham.  In the late 80s Snape Proms included a brass band concert with fireworks at Framlingham, which we attended.  I think the fire regulations have put a stop to this now.

In the town museum housed in the castle we saw this crocheted purse, in the form of a sock.  Notice the clocks at the ankle.

We pottered around a little Antiques Centre and I bought these two enamel boxes.  The blue one is in poor condition, but I love the depth of colour enamel gives.

So to Aldeburgh where we checked in to our rented cottage, before sampling the fish and chips for which Aldeburgh is famous.

This is the Guildhall, which stands curiously almost on the shingle beach, apparently suggesting that Aldeburgh, like Dunwich, has been partially lost to the sea.

We learned a great deal on Saturday, studying passages from Bede under the tutelage of Doctor Sam Newton.  I don't think that I had ever appreciated before how the country would have been a different shape before the draining of the Fens, Colchester a ghost town and a massive forest where Essex is now.  Something to be said for this, perhaps?

Then we moved on to our concert at Snape.  The intermittent rain had died away, leaving brilliant evening sunlight on the reed-beds around the concert hall.  This is a Henry Moore on the front lawn.
We had a very civilised evening.

Sunday took us to Minsmere, the RSPB bird reserve.  It is the breeding season for gulls and the shallow meres were raucous with seabirds of all sorts.  We saw a pair of Marsh harriers soaring out over the bittern reed-beds - no pictures, unfortunately.  We would have been outclassed by the heavy-duty photographic kit being lugged about by everyone we saw.

Before setting off for home, we visited the fish-sheds, on the sea-front at Aldeburgh.  Five pounds of skate wings and five pounds of herring.  My husband was able to demonstrate his credentials as a fish-gutter as we got them ready for the freezer.








 

Two Shades of Grey

First, the very discoloured cream doors of the wardrobe fitment in our bedroom.  These have been in situ since the late 80s when our predecessors installed them.  At first we toyed with the idea of a large Edwardian triple robe, and, indeed, saw several which would have worked quite well.  Inertia is a strong force for us, however, and the years passed by without us doing anything about it.

Recently, I read a comment from a lady who was downsizing, about how she had had enough of "brown furniture."  That would be "brown" as in "wood-coloured", I suppose.

Anyhoo, we thought the time had come for these doors.  My husband ordered some MDF and, much glueing, clamping and five coats of paint later, we have the "After" picture.  He ordered a narrow, lightweight mirror for the central panel.  We scanned the Farrow and Ball paintchart and chose Dove Tail and Elephant's Breath, not quite realising how these colours read differently depending on what is nearest to them.  Here, they are definitely pale grey and  even paler grey, but we are very pleased with the sleekness of the effect.  My husband did have some fun coming up with alternative names: Monkey's Elbow and Duck's Bottom, for example.

 

 

 

Reflected in the mirror, you can just see the beams behind our bed.

I have been enjoying the "Great British Sewing Bee", although  people sewing beautifully makes less interesting television than eccentrics sewing badly but creatively.  I was constantly struck by the effect of time limits on the tasks.  Of course, sometimes the home-sewer is up against a deadline, and this will induce stress.  I well remember my mother finishing a dress late into the night, sewing a little floral trim on to turquoise organdie.  But often home sewing projects run on for weeks, months, years...

One of the tasks was to make a man's shirt in four hours - but it was a shirt with no cuffs.  When I was at university, two of my housemates were getting married.  It was a winter wedding and the bride had chosen a burgundy fabric for the bridesmaids' dresses.  She planned to make the bridegroom's shirt from the same fabric, but time rolled on and they had booked to go to a ball on the eve of the wedding.  While they were out I took the pieces of the shirt and made it up, working late into the night.  I had no sewing machine, but the ladies' college just across the road, St Hugh's, had a sewing room, which I "borrowed".  I wonder if they still have it.  I do remember that I somehow put the buttonholes on the wrong edges of the cuffs so they fastened back to front.  He wore it to the wedding, though.




 

Spring Harvests

Today, to the allotment, for the first rhubarb of the season, and some of the last leeks.  It has been so cold and wet up there in recent weeks that we are behind with our planting, but we made a start today using our trusty Mantis tiller.  We had already dug the plot through in - was it? - February, so now we are working it up for potatoes.  Onions, too, need to be going in.

We are just returned from Cumbria where we feared to find Arctic conditions followed by that sort of grey drizzle which is the default weather in the coastal towns.  However, although it was bitingly sharp at first, the sun persisted and we made the most of the weather.

My husband, dressed for the weather, wearing his new hat knit to his specifications with enough brim to roll down over his ears in the bitter wind.  This was my knitting for the journey north.

 

This is our usual Lorton walk, including a sheltered lane.  Clearly it had filled with drifts the week before, and not yet melted.  We have done this walk in all weathers, but have never seen this before.

Another day saw us walking along Loweswater to the Kirkstile Inn for lunch.  It is a favourite walk, but the return takes you down the road, which can be busy.  In the brilliant sunlight I suggested to my husband that we follow the path over Low Fell instead - yes, it would involve a climb, but we could expect views and would avoid the traffic.  Both these proved to be true.  However, this image shows not only most of Crummock - Loweswater is off to the right -  but also gives some idea  of the steepness of Low Fell - and this is where it levels off at the top.  To the right is Melbreak, which stands above where we had lunch.  In the distance, you can just see Buttermere, around Rannerdale Knotts.

 

In order to rest our bruised toes, we took an outing by train to Whitehaven.  The line runs right along the coast, between the cliffs, or the industrial wastelands, and the sea.  It is ideal for bird-watchers. 
This image shows the pretty face of Whitehaven harbour, where we actually saw a seal swimming.  Vast sums have been spent on the marina, and indeed it was full of all shapes and sizes of yacht.  This was the town where I went to school, and it was our local shopping town as I was growing up.  However, the actual shopping streets now show the kind of blight which afflicts all these coastal towns - pound shops, charity shops and tattoo parlours much in evidence.

We lunched in what remains of St Nicholas church, most of which was burned down in 1971.  Now, there is a lovely public garden, a chapel and a tea-room run by volunteers, serving food at very low prices.  We pensioners appreciate this sort of thing.

Up the hill is another spectacular church - St James's.  I do remember being crocodiled there for a carol service one December afternoon.  I did not recall the wonderful Georgian interior.

 

Making the most of the weather, we took a bus up the coast and got off at Beckfoot, in order to walk the four miles back to Allonby. This has always fired my imagination since I visited the Senhouse Roman Museum and saw funerary urns, found on the beach at Beckfoot where a Roman cemetery is gradually falling into the sea.  It gave a new impetus to beach-combing.  On this day, though, we saw only the great flocks of oyster-catchers grazing then flying up, wheeling and turning.  Ringed plovers hawked across the beach or stood still, ideally camouflaged against the pebbles.  My husband was amazed to spot a lone fulmar cruising through.  This last image gives some idea of the spectacular emptiness of the Solway coast.



Ice Age

Two treats this week.  First, we tried out the National Theatre Live scheme at our local cinema.  We drove a few miles, parked for free and  settled into our seats in good time.  Shots of the theatre audience similarly settling into their seats added realism.  Then we enjoyed every minute of the play - "People" by Alan Bennett, starring Frances de la Tour - as if we were in the front Stalls at the National.  We had imagined rather static shots, rather creaky transitions but this was not the case.

As for the play itself, it zipped along, fuelled by Bennett's sense of the absurd, and his biting satire on the heritage industry.  It did turn into a rant at times, but what a change from the average film!  And this opportunity was shared at hundreds of local cinemas up and down the country.  No need to trek into London, no problems with trains - we were home within fifteen minutes.

Next, we did go up to London to see the Ice Age Art exhibition at the British Museum.  We met my sister and her husband and treated ourselves to the Ice Age menu in the Court restaurant, a very civilised venue.  Now what did they eat in the Ice Age?  From the evidence of the exhibition, which was largely composed of bone fragments, the answer is anything that they could catch.  Probably they did eat small quanties of raw meat and share out the fish between them.  Perhaps potatoes were still somewhere in the future, likewise grain, and therefore bread.  But did they really have red peppers and courgettes with their protein?  Seems unlikely.

As for the exhibition, it lacked something.  The items on display spanned nearly twenty thousand years - a mind-boggling length of time.  Yet we had little sense of the lives of those who made these scratchings on bone - images of running horses, and of reindeer, and many tiny images of the female form.  As archaeological finds these must have been thrilling, but they are underwhelming when presented in a glass case.  More resonant were the modern minimalist stone sculptures presented alongside them.

Remember the garnet-inlaid shoulder clasp from Sutton Hoo?   Millefiori glass in blue and white and garnet inlays in a geometric pattern. This is the pattern charted: one stitch representing one square. 

Intarsia, rather than Fairisle patterning.  No gold of course. 

 

                                     

So now, this is the same chart but with two stitches per square.  The stepped pattern of the original becomes clearer here, but the white still shouts too much.  In the original, the gold base had been stamped in a diaper pattern which showed through the garnets as a chequer-board.  This could be achieved by patterning the red diamond in K2P2.  But still no gold.

For a while I knitted Newfoundland mittens non-stop.  Perhaps the mesh used in these could be done in a metallic yarn to contain the coloured shapes?  The white needs to be toned down to an old white, in the Farrow and Ball sense.  Would the resulting fabric work as the back of a glove, rather than mittens?  We'll see.

 

 

Garden visitors

The Christmas before last, I asked for a bird feeding station from Santa, who duly obliged.  We placed it centrally, for optimal viewing, and waited for visitors.  It took a while.  Was it too exposed? we wondered.  And, indeed, one day we were surprised by a swooping sparrow-hawk,  so we may have been right.

However, "If you build it, they will come," is one of my husband's favourite movie quotes.  And so it proves.  Especially if you invest heavily in sunflower hearts and niger seeds.

Long-tailed tits

 

We have regular resident birds: robin, wren, blackbird, bluetit.  Daily visitors include pigeon, collared dove, starling, magpie, chaffinch, sparrow, great tit.  And now, regularly, we have a flock of long-tailed tits, three goldfinches and a pair of siskins.  Occasionally, we see a pair of blackcaps.  None of these is particularly rare, of course, but they are a joy to watch, especially the goldfinches.  The one thing we miss is a thrush, although we used to have one feeding on the garden snails.

Goldfinch

 

Bedroom furniture - Our redecoration meant we became reacquainted with the items we take for granted in our room.  This first image shows the new mirror we have added, above the chaise longue.  I made the throw some years ago from fabric samples showing the colour range in tweedy upholstery.  I love these pale muted colours.  Also in this shot is a faux-bamboo bedroom chair hand-painted by my husband - and a row of his shoes!

Next, this is my dressing table.  It is an old treadle sewing machine table, from which the machine had already been removed. I stripped down its water damaged surface.   My husband showed me how to apply real veneer to the top - it came as iron-on strips.  Then he explained how to French Polish and left me to it.  After many coats, amazingly, it worked a treat.  However, I used regular varnish on the drawers and carcase, and I cannot see any difference.  The mirror, I have described before - made by my husdand with burr elm fronts to the drawers.

This week, to a fascinating event at Sutton Hoo.  Dr Sam Newton runs day-schools, sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of the ship burial, the stunning grave goods and the culture of the Wuffings.  My friend had booked this event and we sat enthralled as he strummed a replica lyre and chanted in Old English.  It took us both back to the first year of university, where Anglo-Saxon and the study of "Beowulf" was a compulsory course.  But the spectacular artistry of the garnet-inlaid buckles and clasps was inspiring.  Why is it that I am seeing Fairisle mittens?