Plumpton's Xanga

A Place of Dreams

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 11:10:08 GMT

Lyvedon New Bield ['New Building'] never quite happened, but it's certainly left its mark on top of the remote and windy Northamptonshire hill we visited yesterday. No glass in the windows, no doors, no roof... just stone slots ready and waiting to support the floorboards that never arrived. The amazingly still-sharp-edged examples of the stonemasons' skill in the letters and shields carved into the stones also remain.

400 years ago, Sir Thomas Tresham planned this building to be his 'garden lodge,' where he could entertain guests, who after strolling up from the old manor house through lush orchards and soothing waterways, would be suitably impressed by lavish hospitality. Despite periods of virtual 'house arrest', which kept him away from his work, he was very precise in planning its dimensions and decorations. He used the numbers 3, 5 and 7 to demonstrate both his Roman Catholic faith, and a typically Elizabethan love of ingenious puzzles.

Sir Thomas, and his eldest son Francis [implicated in the Gunpowder Plot] both died in 1605. Unpaid workmen downed tools, never to take them up again. What visitors see now is an almost unaltered Elizabethan building site.

Truthful, gripping and unsentimental tale about the first World War. Written for children, but to be enjoyed by anyone who likes a good story.

Here Be Dragons...

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 10:42:56 GMT

Well, the steering went for a second time on the new-to-us, but second-hand really, Fabia just as we were on the way to swimming. A scary moment. Himself managed to get us through town in low gear and out to the garage, where once again The Man sat in the front seat with the engine running, jiggled the steering to be certain it really had failed as we'd said. He told us he'd get the parts asap, and promised All Would Be Well. Which it was last time, of course. Until it went wrong this time. Luckily, the warranty is still in place, so at least repairs are at no cost to us - yet.

Meanwhile, would we like a courtesy car? Since we're loaded up with swimming gear and shopping bags and a fair trudge away from the town centre, yes we'd be very glad if The Man could find us alternative transport. Preferably something suitable for a couple of OAPs with a quiet attitude to life and the occasional creak in the knees. So what did we get?

A little orange VW tastefully stencilled with curly black dragons. Nice. This week, you'll see us coming!

This book seemed an appropriate choice at the moment! I read the series some time ago, and if you're feeling at all down in spirit, a holiday on Pern will undoubtedly do you good.

This is Pero's Bridge in Bristol

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 09:23:16 GMT

The striking horns are functional, allowing the bascule bridge to open for taller vessels.

On the other side of Pero's Bridge... a musician was playing a Kora. He told me it is a West African harp, the sound amplified by that magnificent gourd. Modern versions may use guitar-style pegs rather than the traditional leather straps, but tuning it still needs as much expertise as the playing. The sound is golden, resonant and brings a lump to the throat.. I asked if I could take a photograph? Sure, he said.

But I really wish you could hear the sound as well!

So who was Pero, and why does he have a bridge named for him here? Well, Pero was a slave brought to Bristol, probably from the Caribbean island of Nevis, around 1783... because, as we shouldn't forget, Bristol was once a part of the infamous Triangle of Trade.

More of Bristol

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 06:56:58 GMT

It's taken so long to upload this, perhaps it might be best if I quit while I'm ahead!

Well, here is the famous Floating Harbour. These days, boats can only go this far, but if you follow the march of those metal pillars to the left of the ferryboat you get some idea of how much farther the water once reached. In old photos, the masts of many ships jostled right in the centre of the city.

If you walk through the city centre. and past a place still known as Quayside even though the water no longer laps there... you come to the bottom of Christmas Steps. A cluster of some remaining medieval houses is looking ever more crushed by the new buildings around them. But they also look freshly decorated, and shining in the sun.

The next Niccolo book in the series, and there ain't no stopping now... although I've read them once before, they're no less gripping this time round. How does this writer manage to convey the sounds and uses of music so surely? I'm hooked, again. I admit it.

A Visit

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 08:25:54 GMT

Visiting Bristol, the city where I was brought up:

Near the medieval centre of the city, where my grandmother often brought me as a child - the junction of Corn Street, Wine Street, High Street and Broad Street - here are the Striking Jacks on the tower of Christchurch [full title: 'Christchurch with St. Ewen and St. George'] The painted figures twist at the waist to strike the bells at every quarter-hour. I love the finger pointing towards the Grand Hotel alongside!

Turn round, and these days Corn Street is full of people, not cars.

And... if you've ever heard the expression 'to pay on the nail' [paying for something honestly and promptly] well, here's A Nail! In past times, buyers would throw payment onto the round metal pillars so the seller could hear that the metal coins 'rang true,' and the deal could be completed. I've never seen The Nails used as vegetable counters before! But once I'd got used to it, it didn't seem such an outrageous idea.

We enjoyed St Martin's Little Summer that day. Cool and sunny, with budgie-blue sky. More pictures to come.

Reading the fourth book, and amazed at how much detail I overlooked the last time. Having said that, there's always plenty to find in this series. I try not to read thoughtlessly or un-critically, but suspending disbelief isn't hard with characters like these.

A fresh angle

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 13:08:07 GMT

Up early for once, with time to spare. After a walk around the garden, I stood gazing from the back window towards the top of our little garden arch while waiting for the kettle to boil. That was when a Something caught my eye.

It was narrow, pale, ghostly and appeared to kick slightly in a breeze that hardly stirred the leaves. Intrigued, I left the tea to brew [tea 'brews' at Plumpton House... in other homes, I realise it may 'mash' 'stew' or 'draw'] and ventured out again. What was it - a chrysalis? A wisp of sheep's wool? Or [and I hoped not] one of those horrible white plastic bags? It was none of these. As I discovered on seeing it from a fresh angle it was a cobweb, very round and complete with diamond dewdrops shimmering in the cool air. Seen sideways-on from the kitchen window, it had been unrecognisable.

It's holiday time soon, so there won't be any garden-gazing for a while. Because before the holidays, there are concerts. There is writing to finish. There is a talk to think about. There are books to return. There is a birthday party. There are dresses to let out, and dresses to take in [impossibly, I seem to have both slimmed and expanded!] and one way and another there are more than a few ends to tidy - so I will be taking a Xanga break. Until later, all the best!

If you love historical romance, they don't come much better than this... it's back to Bruges, ice-skating on the canals and riding ostriches past the lantern-lit horn windows just to remind myself how enjoyable this series was the last time I re-read it!

Summer

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 09:24:40 GMT

We got ourselves out early for a walk the other day - ages, it seems, since we've been here. These used to be old gravel pits, but now, with cleared pathways and sweet-smelling wooden hides for watching the birds and the wildlife it's the best antidote to mere pavement-pounding we know. As well as lots of new things, there are memories. Beneath a log: 'This is where we saw those tiny toads!' By the old road bridge: 'Do you remember when everything flooded here one Easter?' And remembering the dreaded Foot and Mouth outbreak: 'Good to see the sheep are back in that field again...'

We saw a brilliant red butterfly, too, as a bonus! Must find out exactly what it was....

I told you so...

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 09:23:28 GMT

So who was it who said: 'I think the trolley is just a mite wider than that gap, dear?' And who continued: 'Look, I know my spatial awareness isn't quite as excellent as yours, but still... do you really think our supermarket shopping is going to squeeze through that gap... what with the wing-mirror sticking out, and everything?'

You may have guessed, it was me.

And who was it who said nothing, but thought everything would be just dandy as long as we all breathed in?

You may also have guessed that the subsequent curved scratch on the rightside wheelarch of our small VW is Something Of Which We Shall Never Speak Again.

And I'm mentioning this book again because it's just so darned good and I cannot put it down! There's this short scene early on, between Cardinal Wolsey and a young Thomas Cromwell, making use of firelight and shadows as you might a filmshow, where we learn more about their pasts and their characters than I would have thought possible on one page. Brilliant.

'In Fortune's Footsteps'

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 15:18:18 GMT

Hooray! 'In Fortune's Footsteps' has arrived at last. Congratulations to Lisa, and here's to a great book launch.

Cats may fly...

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 19:08:17 GMT

Ignoring as far as possible the World Upside Down for the moment, and observing at some distance Civil War Re-enactment working its way to some sort of conclusion on the political front....there is only so much analysis and discussion one can take in, I find... we've been concentrating instead on planting vegetables.

Nothing on a grand scale. We only have a small back garden, and although we might have put beetroot [the leaves and stalks are very decorative] or feathery carrots out in the front garden among the flowers, convention dictates that we plant food crops mainly behind the house. This year, we have tomatoes, peppers, herbs and potatoes. Strictly speaking, the potatoes aren't in the garden but set into four large containers - they look like shopping baskets. All we have to do is to earth up the plants as the grow and hey presto! we shall soon be digging out a huge crop of spuds. Allegedly.

The problem was where to put the baskets. We had one plant in front of the dining room until it grew so big it blocked the light through the window. So we moved it, with two others, in front of the conservatory, where all three plants now appear to be having a competition to see how high they can grow. The fourth bag wouldn't fit, and so we put it behind the gate.

Where, in the night, someone's very hefty cat took a flying leap off the top of the fence and flattened it...is this instant mashed potato?