A Day of Reckoning

Yesterday, The DEB and I rushed home from a fantastic holiday in Snowdonia/North Wales, so that I could meet the submission deadline for the Village Show Flower, Fruit and Veg Competition.
When we arrived home, I held my breath as I opened the patio doors hoping that my roses had flourished.
Sadly, my favourite, cherished cream coloured, David Austin antique rose had a really rough season, and failed to blossom in time. I was crestfallen as I had placed all my hopes that this rose would be as prolific and beautiful this year, as it had been last year.
However, to my great surprise, my pink, David Austin antique rose -- the shrub that has been my greatest gardening challenge, the one that seemed always, always to struggle to survive, and quite frankly, very nearly got the chop last season (!) beamed proudly with a staggering array of beautiful blooms in shades of apricoty, soft pink. Amazing.
(There's a lesson in there, somewhere!)
I was quite literally spoilt for choice with enough blooms to enter into three separate Flower Competition categories:
a.) Single specimen in water b.) garden flower display in vase, and, c.) Three scented flowers, of any variety in water.
I'm most proud of my "garden flower display" which was a lovely (if I may say so myself) arrangement of lilac gladioli, surrounded by hot pink shrub roses (Rosa Complicata) -- another plant in the garden I'd nearly given up on! -- pink wildflowers, pink and red fuschisas, pink antique rose, lavender and sprigs of baby-blue forget-me-nots.
I'm a little worried now that I may have done myself a disservice by placing this arrangement in the "garden flowers in a vase" category and not the "Floral arrangement" category. Well, the competition will be stiff in either so, it probably doesn't matter which one I entered!
At the very least, I think I deserve a ribbon for my dedication. The DEB (bless him!) and I trudged across the village, through the allotments, in the rain, gingerly carrying the arrangements to the Scout Hut, where the competition is being held.
I think we've made a strong showing as a family with my three floral displays, and a display of herbs the DEB has been faithfully growing this summer. I entered a display of his sage, oregano, parsley, mint, rosemary and thyme on his behalf. (What a good little Wifey I am!)
So -- today is the day. The Show just opened at 11:00 AM, and the results are out.
You'd've thought I'd be there, beating down the door. But, alas, no. I'm feeling rather shy...
I'd prefer to sneak in when no one's around to see. Quite unlikely, I think.
Of course, I'd love to place, but really, I'm just proud that I found the courage to actually have a go this year. The phenomenon of the "Village Show" has to be experienced to be fully appreciated.
I'm a real "Jilly Come Lately" to all of this, and there are some very keen gardeners who dedicate themselves to this competition every year.
There's a scene in ITV's wonderful, wonderful drama Downton Abbey -- which thankfully will be returning to our television screens this Autumn!!! And, not a moment too soon!! -- where Maggie Smith's formidable Duchess without question expects to win the annual village rose competition, as she has done every year for as long as anyone could recall! Thankfully, our Village Show is not as fierce as that!

Everything's coming up Roses

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” – Romeo & Juliet

If procrastination were an art form, my level of genius would rival Mozart. These days, my preferred method of whiling away an hour or two is that most serious, most wonderful, and most British form of procrastination of them all: Gardening.

Of course, pride of place in any English garden belongs irrefutably to the Rose. And, at the moment it seems I do very little else beyond fretting about my roses. With good reason – I am aiming to win a ribbon in this year’s Village Show Flower competition. I was too timid to enter last year, fearing that a novice such as myself would stand no chance in the fray. More fool me, as the blooms in last season’s yield were profuse and of such lovely quality they earned even the praise of my chum and rose expert, Paul Smith, at Charlecote Park.

That lesson being learned, I ‘screwed my courage to the sticking place’, and was determined not to allow the floral opportunity to elude me twice. I tested the waters by entering an arrangement in this year’s W.I. Corsage Competition. The Corsage competition, though smaller in scale than the Village Show, is just as friendly and just as fierce. Perhaps, even a little more so as the coveted Barford W.I. Rose Bowl is at stake. The Rose Bowl remains in the possession of the winner for 12 months - a sterling reminder of the victor’s horticultural achievement. I yelped with glee when I was declared this year’s winner, feeling truly a champion amongst champions.

After such a remarkable success, I felt ready for an even bigger challenge: the Barford Village Show Flower, Fruit, and Vegetable Competition. I was ready, but what about the roses? To my utter dismay, the darling buds of May, June and July had all disappeared without a trace by early August. The prolific flourishes of last year, had given way to a meagre struggle for any colour at all.

I was beside myself, but not alone. Outside the Village Shop, I chanced upon my friend Kate, a stalwart of the annual Flower, Fruit and Veg competition. She and husband, Ian, were off to Scotland, she said. “But, you’ll miss the Village Show!” I gasped in disbelief. She looked forlorn, and replied sadly: “Nothing’s growing like it should.” I knew exactly how she felt. My own holiday plans (or lack of them) have been shaped and altered by many things, but I can honestly say, that roses have never been one of them. Until now.

Since ancient times, roses have enthralled poets and writers (there are at least seventy references to roses in Shakespeare’s works), as well as artists, monarchs, apothecaries, lovers, and, of course, gardeners. The queen of flowers and national emblem of England, roses are as temperamental as they are beautiful. When they are ‘happy’, all is right in the world, and they offer an abundance of flower and fragrance; when they are ‘discontented’ there seems no remedy, and their bare, yellowy, spiky and skeletal appearance seems a harbinger of impending doom. Without a doubt there are few joys more sublime than that of being the possessor and cultivator of a healthy, ‘happy’ rose.

Noting of the hazards of the invasive Wickwar rose (Rosa ‘Wickwar’), Sir Roy Strong once admonished gardeners to “Beware the Rose that will Engulf your Garden”, I think he may have gone one better, and offered would-be green-thumbers more apt advice: “Beware the Rose that will Engulf your Life”!

Post-Script to 'Now Panic and Freak Out'

As requested, here's a bit more info about HF Holidays. 

The official stuff: Voted Best Large Tour Operator - The Guardian Travel Awards 2010.
My two cents/pence: "If I didn't work for them, would I choose to travel with them?" - Yes! In fact, I'm hoping to save up my pennies for a surprise trip for the DEB next year! 
I haven't started working with them yet, but so far, HF Holidays seem like a really super company, and I will say they strive to give guests truly remarkable experiences. That is undeniably of utmost importance.
At our training and assessment sessions it was all about 'service, service, service', and making sure everyone on the holiday is happy, comfortable and enjoying their time.
They are also very much about creating a positive environment for 'solo travelers', so that traveling alone doesn't mean 'being alone'. I think that's really, really important. And, very inspired in this day and age.
The holidays are centred on activities, tons of activities, anything you can think of really! Walking, singing, painting, cooking, yoga, tai chi, arts and crafts of every form, music - performing and appreciation, and of course, literary festivals and theatre visits! 
Really, you name it, HF Holidays offer it, and if they don't offer it already, they are open to suggestions, if there's enough interest.
What HF Holidays isn't is an 18-30 binge fest in Marjorca! Nothing wrong with that, by the way, for those who are after that sort of thing, of course! Just wanted to be clear about it.

HF Holidays - better altogether

But, saying that, for a certain type of girl, it could be just the ticket, ... and yes, as one reader shared, I have heard the joke/rumour that the 'HF' in HF Holidays stands for "Husband Finding"...  


p.p.s. If you do decide to book a holiday with them, please be sure and mention my reference #3076! 


Website: HF Holiday - better altogether

No Panic and Freak Out

My British Red Cross First Aid Certificate has just arrived in the post! I am so very proud! I just hope I never, ever have to make use of the skills and techniques I learned...

I was required to take a day-long course "Emergency First Aid at Work" before I begin my appointment as a Leader with the holiday/tour company HF Holidays.

HF Holidays is a leading holiday company specializing in activities holidays in the UK and abroad. I will be leading on their Shakespeare and other literary tours. It’s a very, very part-time post (read=not a great deal of money), but it’s a super opportunity, with a great organisation, and keeps those teaching muscles toned!

I dreaded the First Aid requirement, as I am utterly squeamish! It’s the thought of puke, more than blood, that makes me anxious. But, our wonderful instructor, Rhiannon, reassured us that if, and when, the time came, our training and sense of duty would kick in! 

And, thankfully, of the critical earlier steps in the First Aid process is: “Shout for Help”  -- I’ve got that covered!

A few interesting facts I learned while on the course…

6 million days of work are lost in Britain each year due to injury

229 workers were killed at work in the UK in 2007-2008

8 people per day die on British roads

4% of the UK population suffers from Diabetes

Every 6 minutes someone dies of a heart attack in the UK

150,000 people suffer from a stroke in the UK each year

200,000 lives are claimed each year in the UK by heart and circulatory disease

4 people per day die of asthma in the UK

5 million people suffer from asthma in the UK

I must add that a few of my responses during the training were distinctly “American”. When Rhiannon asked if there were any questions, I posed the following: “What happens if you offer someone First Aid, and then months later they try to sue you for hurting them, or for something you didn’t get quite right?”

My question was met with a healthy dose of disbelief and amazement from my fellow trainees (“Who would do that?”); and Rhiannon reassured me by stating that there are rules in place in the UK that protect First Aiders and their attempts to help, since ultimately, we are there trying save someone’s life.

Patchwork passions

“Anything that’s mended is but patch’d.” – Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

Recently, I finished a patchwork quilt I have been hand-sewing for years. It has been so long, I honestly cannot recall when I first started the project. 2005? 2003? Goodness knows! One thing’s certain - I did not quilt while living in NYC. There are, of course, quilters and knitters in Manhattan; I lived around the corner from a noted “knitting café”. However, NYC failed to inspire the right ‘mood’. I need peace and quiet to spur me on. 

Jane Austen is the literary patron saint of quilters.  In 1811, she wrote to her sister: "My dear Cassandra, have you remembered to collect pieces for the Patchwork? -- We are now at a standstill." Fortunately, the quilt mentioned was completed, and is now on display at Chawton House, Hampshire. As a fellow needlewoman, I am just as impressed by this creation, as I am by Austen’s literary ones. Jane’s quilt is a complex, diamond-shaped maze of 64 different fabrics. Completed all by hand, without electricity! 

By comparison, my efforts seem modest indeed: a simple, two fabric, block patchwork. 

Nonetheless, like Austen, I found myself at a standstill. With my D.E.B.’s rellies coming to be our first houseguests, I was desperate for my quilt to be finished in time for their visit. Thankfully, Warwickshire is a craft-lover’s haven, and help was close at hand. Local artisan, Joanna Smith-Ryland came to my rescue, saved my quilt from disaster, and shared with me the story of her passion for patchwork: 

How did you come to your art?

JSR: As a child, I was fortunate enough to have a nanny who was a brilliantly creative seamstress. I was always amazed at how she would take bits of fabric and turn them into something that people loved. At boarding school, I found a wonderful tradition of creative sewing in the Art Department. I loved the embroidery techniques we were taught. At 12, I was introduced to Patchwork - herein lay my academic down fall! I became obsessed with creating Patchwork designs on graph paper, carefully cutting each little shape out, tacking the fabric onto the shape and sewing the pieces together. Slowly, this wonderful rainbow of colours and textures would evolve into a new piece of fabric, cushions and quilts appeared at an alarming rate as my schoolwork regressed at an equally alarming rate!

What inspires you?

JSR: My inspiration has always been the beauty of the world around me, so my first three collections reflect nature. “The Garden Collection” is designed in soft pastel colours embroidered with flowers and butterflies, while “The Jewel Collection” has strong, rich colours and semi-precious stones. “The Big Cat Collection” uses silk and soft fur - Tigers and leopards abound!!  

What is the greatest challenge in your art?

JSR: My challenge is to let people share my passion by making Patchwork that will become a family treasure and passed on to future generations. Whether it's a cushion, quilt, or tablecloth each piece is bespoke and made in my own workshop - a treasure for you to keep and enjoy.

Passionate about Patchwork, Joanna Smith-Ryland

www.joannasmith-ryland.com

Seaside adventure

I was commissioned to write a feature on the Whitstable Oyster Festival for Caravan magazine. I was delighted to get the assignment! I grabbed the DEB, my beach hat and my wellies, we jumped into our little Mercedes camper van, and away we went...!!

“The world is mine oyster!” – Shakespeare

There are few pleasures in life better than a lazy, Sunday lunch of fresh seafood and chilled wine at a table by the sea. A pleasure made all the more divine as a capstone to a pleasantly epicurean weekend at the Whitstable Oyster Festival.

The Whitstable Oyster Festival has a remarkable history dating back to Norman times, when hard-working fishermen held an annual ceremony of thanksgiving for their survival and  harvest. Today, the people of Whitstable symbolically recreate the  ‘Landing of the Oysters’ - the Whitstable Sea Scouts bring oysters ashore for a formal blessing before being presented to the Lord Mayor. The oysters are then distributed to inns and restaurants throughout the town as part of the vibrant Oyster Parade.

The Festival’s positively effervescent atmosphere permeated every corner of this tiny, historic town. And, there was something to appeal to every taste and age. There were tons of activities for families and children; oysters galore (of course!); plus an amazing quayside ‘epicentre’ offering a wide variety of delicacies (with and without seafood), from piping hot paella, and Portuguese sausages, to local hog roasts and Kentish cheese. There was also an array of entertaining and informative cookery demonstrations in the main marquee. Truly, a food-lover’s paradise!

However, oenophiles and ale enthusiasts needn’t have felt left out as there were booths and tastings dedicated to a range of local and international beverages: local ciders, regional wines, as well as master-class tastings of Taittingers champagne – the perfect oyster accompaniment. To the sheer delight of my husband, The Whitstable Brewery ran its own Beer Festival in tandem with the Oyster Festival. Two delights on one beachfront! With a selection of over 30 real ales and beers – and featuring several homegrown brews – The Whitstable Beer Festival was a real hit. These beers were best enjoyed in the sea-salted breeze, with fresh rock oysters, served alfresco on the beach outside the Brewery Bar.  

Leaving the driving to public transport, we camped at Bragg’s Lane Farm Caravan and Camping Site outside Herne, about 4 miles from Whitstable. Derek and Doreen Newman’s small, secluded site is a well-kept secret, and perfect for a quiet get-away. Each night, we staggered back to the campsite under a canopy of stars, and could hear the sound of sea birds calling in the distance, reminding us how close we were to the sea. Finding tranquility such as this, on the first weekend of the schools’ holidays, is nothing short of a miracle!

All credit to Derek and Doreen for their superb management of the site. Toilets and showers were always very clean. There’s only one shower cubical per toilet unit, but as this isn’t a huge site there weren’t massive queues, though sometimes there was a bit of a wait in the mornings. There’s plenty of hot water for showers and the washing up station. Local transport is plentiful and reliable, so venturing off to the seaside is a doddle.

We ended our Whitstable adventure at the Whitstable Oyster Fishery Company restaurant, purveyors of the Whitstable Native oysters. Appropriately, we dined on fresh rock oysters and grilled local dabs to start, followed by local sea bass, stuffed and grilled with garlic and rosemary, served with new potatoes, and two fresh salads (green leaves with fine beans; tomato, basil and red onion). Looking out over the sun-drenched sea, sipping chilled rosé and Whitstable Pale Ale on one of summer’s hottest days, we felt replete and slightly decadent - nothing could be finer!

Pictorial Essay - 

Whitstable Oyster Festival, 2011

Fresh seafood galore!

Paella on the quayside

Young Festival revelers enjoying the sights and sounds

Landing of the Oysters

The Oystermen

Best seat in the house to view the proceedings on the beach

Oyster Parade in full flow

Oyster Procession through the town

Sea Scouts bearing the oysters 

Colorful Whitstable shop

\

Colorful Whitstable characters

A picture postcard view

Darling Boy in the brisk sea breeze

Stunning view

FURTHER INFORMATION

WHERE TO STAY

Bragg's Lane Farm, Bragg's Lane, Herne Bay
 Kent
CT6 7NP PRICE: £14.50

Why Stay Here: An idyllically peaceful little site, down a secluded lane outside (about a mile) the village of Herne, with four pubs serving local ales. Lovely rural woodland walks, delightful seaside towns (Herne Bay Whitstable) and the cathedral city of Canterbury all close at hand.

Getting Around: Site in easy accessed from the A29. Excellent regular bus service runs past the site on the main road - the “Triangle” runs between Canterbury, Herne/Herne Bay and Whitstable at regular intervals throughout the day and late evening.

Suitable For: With just 20 touring pitches set on 1 acre, surrounded by fields, this site is perfect for couples and adults looking for a quiet get-away or a tranquil retreat. Great for walkers, ramblers and anyone who enjoys being near the seaside and historic sites.

Special assignment: Horses

I adore my column in Warwickshire Life magazine! This monthly assignment affords me the opportunity to explore some quintessentially British experiences and write about them. And, recently, the penny finally dropped, and I realised my column is a great means to just having a bit fun!

 Red House Proprietress,
Nikki Shakespear

So, I am allowing myself a few English indulgences. This month: Horses. With the goal of uncovering the great British love affair with horses, I had a very nice lunchtime meeting with the Head of the British Horse Society in the Midlands; have a visit scheduled to a Warwickshire-based horse sanctuary; and yesterday, I was treated to a lesson at the Red House Riding School.


And, what an amazing day it was! Tucked snugly between Leamington Spa and Lillington, Red House Riding School, was a bit tricky to find. I trundled through housing estates, disbelieving my iPhone's insistence that I "turn right", but when I did eventually "turn right", the wide open spaces of Red House Riding school opened before me, offering the most unbelievable and 
breathtaking views of the Warwickshire countryside.


Between intermittent squalls and dazzling sunshine, I spent a glorious afternoon atop a gorgeous Welsh Section D - Cob called "George". Welsh Section Ds are known for their hardiness and gentle nature, and this sweet chap was like a version of my dearly missed and dearly beloved Lucy, in equine form!

Gorgeous Welsh Cob, George

Having grown up in the country, in the southern part of America, my association with horses -- and proper riding -- have been surprisingly limited. Of course, when I was little, there were obligatory pony rides at state fairs, and magnificent displays of cowboy prowess at rodeos; but the serious pursuit of riding and horsemanship was something different entirely.


My middle sister (9 years my senior) attended boarding school in the heart of very horsey, bluegrass country in Kentucky. There, she excelled and won numerous white ribbons for riding. As riding was "her sport", my interest in that activity remained closeted. I merely wondered at it from afar.  


How nice now, to be free from silly constraints and have a go, finally! Interesting, according to Andrea Jackman of the British Horse Society, the fastest growing group amongst riding enthusiasts are the over 40s and beyond! No longer merely the domain of horse-mad adolescents, adult first-timers are making up for missed opportunities, and turning to riding as a delightful means of exercise and recreation.


And, I don't blame them one bit! Although, I woke this morning with a slightly achy lower back, and sore thighs, the experience has left a permanent smile on my face. There is something so soothing, almost mesmerising about being in the company of a horse. Their serene calm and majestic gentleness completely overwhelms your senses. 

Rider Rachel & her beautiful chestnut, Prince

As I sat atop George, out in the fresh air, with Warwickshire stretching out beautifully before me in the foreground, all my stresses melted away: The column deadline I'm absolutely frantic to meet; the crazed week I have ahead, with back-to-back Shakespeare lectures Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday - on three different plays! The impossible train journeys I need to make this week to take a group to see Merchant of Venice in Stratford, after a full day lecturing in London! On and on...None of that mattered as I swayed from side-to-side on this magnificent Cob.


Ironically, my wonderful instructor was most aptly named Nikki Shakespear. Nikki is a gem, and takes a caring, friendly approach to teaching riding. I will confess I was very nervous when I arrived at Red House - more anxious about the people, than the horses.


Undoubtedly, there are more than a few preconceptions about riding circles; and (also undoubtedly) in some cases these preconceptions probably ring true. Like many a newcomer, I'd expect, when I arrived at Red House Riding School, I feared that I would be walking into a very exclusive, closed and uninviting club. However, my actual experience there could not have been farther from my expectations! 

Having a go!

Everyone at Red House was welcoming, friendly and keen to help and encourage me. Nikki provided all the gear I needed -- and tea and jaffa cakes after! Nikki and her assistant, Mel, were patience and supportive during my lesson. I felt empowered, and not the least bit awkward, uneasy or out of my depth. 


They even gave me a few small challenges to complete on my own within a very well-supported context (walk, trot, dismount). In addition, the social side of things is clearly at the heart of this riding school. Everyone was jovial, smiling and laughing as the mucked in, and out, together (quite literally).

Another myth dispelled by my experience yesterday - the cost of learning to ride, at least at Red House Riding School, is not as dear as I'd have thought it would be. Nikki favours Group Lessons over private ones, and offers them for a range of experience levels and age groups. Comraderie and kinship is key to this fellowship of the horse. And, I have to say that yesterday was a truly remarkable day. A highlight of my life here in Warwickshire that I will never forget!