In Jane Austen's Footsteps

“In Warwickshire, I have true-hearted friends.” – Henry VI, Part III

“You should write a novel,” a friend suggested casually over a cup of tea. “Your life,” she added,  “has been so ‘Austen-esque’.” The comparison of my ‘romantic narrative’ with the stories of Jane Austen does seem apt in some small ways. After re-establishing our acquaintance in 2007, my Darling English Boy and I pursued a long-distance relationship built firmly on correspondence. Beyond emails and text messages, in true Austenian fashion, we actually wrote letters – and sent them in the post!

On one occasion, the Darling English Boy signed his missive: “Your Mr Darcy or Colonel Brandon - which ever you prefer.” What a deliciously romantic choice! And, what a boon: a man who knows his Austen from his elbow. (I was completely hooked.)

One thing about Jane Austen neither of us knew was her affection for Warwickshire. The City of Bath may well lay claim to being Austen’s place of residence. However, in her novels she decries the “insincerity, smoke, confusion, and horrid gatherings” that were unavoidable features of city living. Without doubt, Jane Austen was a country girl at heart, and Stoneleigh Abbey, here in the heart of Warwickshire left a lasting impression on her.

In 1806, Jane Austen arrived at Stoneleigh Abbey with her mother and beloved sister, Cassandra. This trio was enrapt by the beauty of their cousin’s newly inherited stately home and its bucolic setting. Nestled on the banks of the River Avon, Stoneleigh Abbey sits on 690 acres of parkland and is surrounded by a lush, verdant landscape. Austen found here the “life and liberty” she so missed in hustle, bustle and din of Bath.

Taking in the view from the house, one can see the woodland grove that gave Austen such pleasure on those late summer days. She called Stoneleigh’s woodland grove a “pretty wilderness.” This phrase resurfaces famously during the iconic encounter between Elizabeth Bennett and Lady Catherine de Bourgh in her masterpiece Pride & Prejudice.

Stoneleigh Abbey and family figures associated with it provided Austen with ample fodder for her renowned novels. It is referenced at length in the description of Sotherton Court in Mansfield Park, and as one takes a turn about the estate, thoughts of Pemberley immediately spring to mind.

By far my favourite feature – after the breathtaking Georgian plasterwork in the Grand Hall – was taking a stroll along Jane’s favourite path. On a (surprisingly) sunny summer day, I found myself following in Jane Austen’s footsteps. What better inspiration could there be for a would-be novelist or avid Austen fan?

Every September, hundreds of “Janeites” (as Jane Austen fans are known) flock to Bath for that city’s annual “Jane Austen Festival”. I have yet to persuade the Darling English Boy that we should don Regency costumes and join them. Lucky for him, I have found a touch of Jane Austen much closer to home.

More details

Stoneleigh Abbey – “Warwickshire’s hidden jewel”                                                                                       Jane Austen tours Sundays (1pm) and Wednesdays (12pm). Special Jane Austen evening tours with wine and canapés, throughout the year. See website for details: www.stoneleighabbey.org

Glorious Twelfth (August Column)

Is that lead slow which is fir’d from a gun? – Love’s Labour’s Lost

Hunter green wellies, touches of cashmere, Lamb’s wool and tweed - the hallmarks of country apparel. To me, country apparel has always been the apex of British fashion - and a style of which I have long been enamoured. 

I regularly sported wellies and short, tweed skirts through the sunny streets of Manhattan - only to have a chorus of taxi drivers bellowing at me at every turn: “You expectin’ rain, sweetheart?”

Thankfully, my lifestyle has finally caught up with my wardrobe. But what about the pursuits for which country clothing was actually intended? One of the joys of my newfound rural life is having opportunities to experience country sports.

Shooting has always held a certain fascination, with “the Glorious Twelfth” being the centre of shooting lore. The start of the grouse season is indeed the stuff of legend - and luxury. Grouse shooting enthusiasts pay high prices in pursuit of their passion. A 200-brace day on one of the more prestigious moors, for eight or nine guns, would cost more than £38,000; and that’s before adding in agents’ commissions, ammunition, keepers, loaders or beaters tips, insurance, food, travel and accommodation. That’s a costly bit of tweed!

Before biting such a choice bullet, I set my sights on a shooting experience closer to home. My brother-in-law is a retired Warwickshire Police Inspector and former team manager of the GB Police Clay Shooting Team. His shooting career was inspired at the age of 10, after hearing news of Bob Braithwaite’s remarkable clay shooting victory at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics and this marked the birth of a lifelong passion, which has seen him win numerous national Police and inter-service titles including the Services Clay Classic in 2007.

For the past two years he has coached the Warwickshire College shooting team, and he has led them to achieve back to back victories in the 2011/2012 Schools Challenge events at Bredon School in Gloucestershire, winning two £1500 shotguns. This year, Warwickshire College were also awarded “School of the Year” by The Clay Pigeon Shooting Association.  On the back of this success and in line with their ‘Enterprise College’ status, (Shooting being worth an estimated £2 billion to the UK economy) Warwickshire College are now exploring opportunities to offer their shooting coaching facilities to a wider public.

One mild, summer’s day, I donned my wellies and met him at Edge Hill Shooting Ground, where he introduced me to the joys of clay shooting. The experience was nothing short of exhilarating and empowering: the feel of firepower, the joy of precision and success and hitting the targets.

I had expected that I would be utterly useless at shooting a swiftly moving object out of the sky, but I surprised myself! I have no doubt this was much more than a mere case of beginner’s luck. More than being just a sure and able shot, my brother-in-law is also an excellent teacher. And - he looks great in tweed!

Love it or leave it

Tolerance is a funny thing.
I've been inundated recently to offer some comment on the upcoming US Presidential election. I have resisted for much same reason that I shall not be voting this time around: I don't have to live with the result. 
Of course, in a global sense, yes, we all have to live with the result, but my point is that the result will have not any immediate or intimate impact on my life, so my input into the result should likewise be limited. (A stoical stance worthy of Julius Caesar's Marcus Brutus!)
What I can offer, however, is an observation - drawn out by a recent query as to my views on Mitt Romney's faith/religion.
Last year, the DEB and I hosted two friends of his to dinner - a British-American couple from Texas. Many of you, dear Readers, will be stunned in amazement to learn that I broke bread with not one, but two, staunchly evangelical, Tea Party supporting Republicans. (Or perhaps more shocked by the fact that two Republicans dared to sup at my "liberal" table?) 
Our affable dinner took a sombre turn when Carla began to bemoan the current state of affairs in the USA. I surprised myself with my own detachment and ability to listen calmly as she shared her grievances over President Obama's "betrayal"of the American people. 
I did not pitch a fit or throw a wobbly -  but I took pleasure and smug satisfaction in the thought that in the upcoming election my one Democratic vote would surely cancel out hers. 
Of course, this is a ridiculous thought, this is not at all how it works! And so, it was in that single moment that I realised I shouldn't and mustn't vote. I would be doing so for the wrong reasons - to vote against someone else's opinion, in attempt to counteract the influence of their vote. Voting is privilege, and many gave their lives to achieve this right for us all. To undertake it out of spite or anger is to my mind, wrong. 
Sadly, I feel that this is precisely what politics in America has become: "spite voting". Perhaps, this is what it has always been, and I just didn't realise it until now.
And so, to Mitt. 
After Carla finished her tirade, expecting me to take the bait and bite back, in some sort of pro-Obama litany, I responded instead with what I thought was a fair and balanced remark: "Well, Mitt Romney is your best chance against Obama."
Carla fell silent.
It was as if I had just suddenly declared a belief that the moon was made of cheese.
I explained that I was living in Massachusetts when Mitt Romney was elected Governor. And, a very decent Governor he was. Mitt's faith/religion was not at all a stumbling block for me, or the notoriously 'liberal' electorate of Massachusetts - but it clearly was for Carla! She could barely speak the word 'Mormon' -  her pastor had just preached a sermon recently about the 'Mormon cult', and warned his flock against being deceived by the "closet liberal" Romney.
"Oh, dear, " I said, allowing my smugness to finally take hold. "You're going to be in a bit of a bind, then, aren't you? What on earth will you do?"
Fast-forward to now, and within the blink of an eye, Tea Party voters like Carla have swiftly shifted their song sheet, and soundly changed their tune. The "M-word" is no longer the bugbear it once was. The greatest (and saddest) irony in all of this is the bare-faced fact that if Mitt Romney were the Democrat or Independent candidate, and a Mormon, the Religious Right - who are embracing him now - would be grilling him and having him from breakfast! 

Olympic fever (and darling English boys abound!)

Well, of course, Mitt Romney and Barbara Walters were wrong!
(What a most unlikely couple, very deserving though, after their recent anti-Brit comments!)
The Olympics are going swimmingly (pun intended), and London has more than lived up to its reputation as a world class, capital city. (And, the Queen is wonderful. Full stop/Period.)
The opening ceremony (directed by Oscar-winner Danny Boyle) was the stuff of legend.
The real stars of the ceremony for me, after Her Majesty, The Queen, herself, of course, were HM Queen's adorable corgies, Holly and Monty!
BBC has released stunning excerpt for YouTube...

Britain always manages to rise to the occasion in grand style, elegance and grace.

A more than a few Darling English Boys thrown in for good measure...

Team GB Heartthrob Divers, Tom Daley and Peter Waterfield 

(Well, if the guys have Beach Volleyball, Men's Synchronised Diving is one for us gals, for sure!)

Rule Britannia!

Feeling better

"Sweet are the uses of adversity, which like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head; and this our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in stone, and good in everything." - As You Like It


Shakespeare always gets it right. These words from As You Like It found me today, reminding me that there is good in every situation and circumstance. It is always worth taking a moment and remembering that one has much to be thankful for.
Spent much of yesterday, outside on the deck, in the sunshine shaping my course schedules for the Autumn term. I'll be teaching for two very wonderful university programmes in London. Both have great students, incredible support and terrific colleagues. The work itself is freelance and contract-based, which means it's not permanent, but also mean that I have the freedom and flexibility to be mistress of my own time. 
Sure, I'll never make a fortune, and I do tire sometimes of being a "roaming Shakespeare scholar", it would be nice to have a permanent place to pitch my academic tent. But - at the end of the day, I get to do what I love. And, that is worth everything.
Throughout my time here in Britain, I have sadly felt "lead up the garden path" on a fairly regular basis. From early in 2009, I was invited in for a number of meetings with the BBC about the then forthcoming "Shakespeare Season" for 2012. I met with seemingly countless development people and producers, who seemed keen and interested in my ideas and thoughts. 
After a series of personnel changes in the BBC's development area, I was, along with my ideas, lost in the shuffle. I have since had a very kind apology from a chap wasn't involved this fiasco, that was in fact much appreciated. That was balm to my troubled soul. At the very least there was an acknowledgement that I had been taking for a ride. It did not, however, make it any easier for me to sit and watch as the current BBC Shakespeare Season has carried on and passed me by. A great cultural moment. I have not be able to stomach it.
The next great cultural moment will of course be the big Shakespeare anniversary in 2016. I am determined to contribute to that in some way. And, perhaps, it will be a way that I create for myself.
In the meantime, I must find peace, solace and comfort in what the wonderful opportunities that I have had and have. Shakespeare has led me on some truly incredible adventures: from Alaska to Romania. I have this very morning received confirmation for a Shakespeare lecture I'll be giving at the British Council in Hong Kong next month, and am currently discussing the possibility of a Shakespeare lecture tour of India in October.
As Shakespeare suggests, one should always be on the look out for the good in everything.

The Life I imagined?

"New heaven, new earth...past the size of dreaming." - Antony & Cleopatra

  

"Is it all that you imagined?" Thus began the letter I received recently from a Reader keen to embark on her own journey of a new life in brave new world. It has taken me weeks to respond. Busyness and an overly lengthy "To Do" list aside, I have struggled to place my feelings in the right frame, the right words.

I started my response to her many times, but then ditched the effort each time, finally today, I feel I have found the word or words, and hope she will excuse this public reply to her queries...

Love. 

That is how all of this began, and love is what keeps me and this story going. Next month will be four years since I left my high-flying life in Manhattan for the bucolic British setting that is now my home - a story book English village that charms and delights me daily; where I feel safe, secure and valued. I risked everything, all I had and all that I was. 

Was it worth it? Without a doubt.

Is this life all that you imagined? 

Yes. 

And, no.

I don't have words to describe fully the frustration and isolation I have felt as I have struggled to rebuild my career here in Britain. Incredible high and gut-wrenching lows. 

I have had to fight for every little corner I have achieved. I have had to find reserves of shameless self promotion that I never knew I had. I've had to be fearless, brave and resilient. Creative and persistent. And, thick-skinned. Or - at least attempt to be thick-skinned. 

A journey such as this is not for the faint-hearted.

Depression, disappointment, anxiety and anger have all been present in full measure alongside joy, passion, laughter and love.

Love is the only thing that has got me through each and every rejection - and there have been too many to count. Every time a door has slammed firmly shut, I've retreated into the warm and open arms of my DEB.    

For this, I am thankful. For this, I live and find the strength to keep going.

There are so many things here that give me joy: family (the best in-laws in the world!), friends, community, etc. & etc. 

But, I would be lying to say that it has been easy, and not without struggle. It requires living on ones wits, straining the nerves, and surviving. The lows can be incredibly low, and hope a very distant thing. I have come to believe, quite honestly, that I have more chance of winning the National Lottery than I do of ever finding sustained and fulfilling employment in my field in this country. Seriously.

Would you do it all again? Absolutely. But, I would do it differently.

"What an amazing life you have! How can I be you?" - The young schoolteacher smiled at me broadly  at the end of a very enjoyable Shakespeare workshop I'd led with her students. Her words left me speechless. All I could do was smile back at her weakly.  If she only knew what it meant "to be me"... 

Four years on: Love is the only thing that keeps me going. 

Star-studded times

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, and joyous time of creativity.

The RSC are on peak form, and I've fortunate to have work (lots for a pleasant change!) surrounding the current season of productions.

The new production of Richard III is simply brilliant, with Jonjo O'Neill doing an hilarious and amazing job of playing Shakespeare's most daringly crafted villains. Paola Dionisotti returns to the RSC stage, after a 17 year hiatus, as Queen Margaret. She gracious offered her time for a hugely enjoyable post-performance discussion session with my HF Holidays group.   

Paola Dionisotti shares her journey to playing Queen Margaret

Group photo at Harrington House

The other production that seems to be featuring heavily in my life these days is Greg Doran's stunning rendering of Julius Caesar. Paterson Joseph, a chum of mine from "the good old days", is making a triumphant return to the RSC as Brutus. Caught up with him after the show to wish him a "Happy Birthday", and had to get a photo of him in the tshirt his wife sent him from France, appropriately bearing the words: "Et tu, Brute?" Which, in French, apparently means "Stupid." Fascinating.

Paterson Joseph in his "Caesar" shirt

When not running round lecturing over the past few weeks, I have been doing the legwork producing a reading of "Song of Songs" at/for Barford Church. The experience, though exhausting, has been sheer joy. And has reminded me of "my old self". The director/producer me. The "mover and shaker" me in NYC.  The production was a sheer delight and gave me the opportunity work with two of Britain's brightest and dearly loved stars: Timothy West and Prunella Scales, who kindly lent their talent to our fundraising efforts.

Rehearsal for Song of Songs

Tim and Pru were both so lovely. The only way I can describe is adorable! Truly. So kind, gracious and generous. And, of course incredibly talented. Every director's dream!
During rehearsal, I got dewy-eyed and nearly wept with joy at the sound of these two legendary actors reading the luscious language of "Song of Songs". Sometimes, when you are in midst of things, there's very little time to reflect on just how significant the moment truly is. This time, I stopped, pinched myself, and whispered, "Hey, look at you, you're doing this!" It was truly amazing.
Hearing that I'd produced and directed this production, one of my former students emailed me and asked, rather cheekily whether I'd "made Prunella Scales and Timothy West do the 'Vowel Wheel'" -- one of the dreaded warm-up exercises I used to put my students through on a regular basis. We didn't do the Vowel Wheel, but we did do a brief warm-up!
I can't wait to do something like this again. It is always good to have a reminder of what you can do, when given half a chance. In the end, we raised over £2000 for church funds, a real relief in these difficult times.

Timothy West and Prunella Scales