Where Did They Spring From?!

Where Did They Spring From?!

Now the clocks have gone back, and the nights are drawing in - and getting longer - any flowers left blooming seem to be hanging on "by a thread," as though unwilling to give up until they absolutely have to. 

Outside the kitchen window, there are 5 flower basket hangers, that have done so well over the summer and autumn; there have been displays of pink primulas and yellow primulas - although the latter basket seemed to be more keen on producing a show of copious green leaves, rather than shy flowers! - and a basket of germaniums in glorious red also produced a great show. 

Just when we thought the geraniums were over, and their leaves were fading fast, I suddenly noticed a couple of sturdy new shoots coming up, with lots of buds on them! and sure enough, they have continued to grow and blossom, even with the weather turning colder and wetter, and every plant in the garden taking a battering from Storm Arwen that swept down from the north recently. 

However, the greatest surprise has been the violas. Always great value for an energetic display, their little smiling faces were also "going over" in their basket, but then I saw a tiny flower peeking over the rim of the next basket along - the one that had no primulas left, just a few fading primula leaves - and yet here was a defiant little stem of viola, nodding in the breeze, looking for all the world as if it had been originally planted there.   

A smiling pussy-cat face!

A day or two later, I saw another viola appear - on the other side of the primula basket - and the question was, how did they get there? Were they transmitted by birds, or did the wind blow seedlings across? I shall have to find out, and it just shows how determined some plants are to flourish and do well, even in adverse circumstances. 

Because they are tiny, the violas can bend and bow with the wind, and I hope will survive for some longer time. They make us think of spring and summer again, and in these cold, dark days, are a rainbow of delight and hope. 

 

Chartwell House

Chartwell House

Because I'm a subscriber to a couple of national newspapers, occasionally I get offers for tickets to places of interest; one came up recently for free day tickets to National Trust properties. One that really took our fancy was Chartwell House, near Westerham, the house Winston Churchill fell in love with in the 1920s, and which he bought - rather without his wife Clementine's wholehearted approval - in 1922.

Weald View

After visiting the property, we could see why she may well have had reservations. Apparently, at the time when Winston Churchill first saw it, the house itself was a wreck, and the land extensive, and heavily overgrown; a lot of hard work would be involved, and a huge amount of money required, to bring it up to a habitable standard. 

 

On a day when the weather was clement, we made the journey down to Kent - it was a lovely drive, and a great day out. Again, I was a bit worried about my stamina, with all the various terraces and steps to climb in the garden - not to mention during the tour of the house itself! - but I managed everything extremely well.

Energetic (?) visitors!

One of my first memories about Winston Churchill's writing was when we lived in Dar-es-Salaam, and hearing people talk enthusiastically about the publication of Churchill's latest book, "History of the English-Speaking Peoples." I was only ten, and although I was an avid reader, at that time it was a bit beyond my interests, but I recall how everyone spoke of it so highly and saying what a great work it was. 

Churchill had also been a journalist of course, and in 1953 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, so he was a highly respected author; but I have still not yet read "History of the English-Speaking Peoples." Between 1956 AND 1958, Churchill published a total of four volumes on this subject; along with James Joyce's "Dubliners" and "Ulysses," and "War and Peace," which remain on my "to read" list, I clearly have some literary catching up to do!

Our wanderings around the grounds of Chartwell also took us to the Studio, where Churchill indulged his passion for painting, producing over 500 pictures. We really love his work, and knowing he had submitted anonymously, one painting to the Royal Academy, and that it had been accepted, I think proves he had a genuine talent.

There are so many benches to sit on, to rest awhile and take in the beautiful views

The house is also interesting; the earliest part dates from the Tudor era, with additions built over the centuries. When Churchill bought it, it was very dilapidated, and I could well understand Clementine Churchill's initial lack of enthusiasm for the project, but in the end it was turned into a magnificent home, and Clementine's creation of a beautiful rose garden, with delicate pastel-coloured white and pink flowers, was a triumph. 

When he found the stairs too much to manage, Churchill had a lift installed - one with metal doors, just like those I remember in a lift leading up to offices in a building in Dar. You had to pull both sets of gates apart, step into the lift and then close each set before pressing the button to set the lift in motion. I was fascinated by it! and my Mum explained it was a safety measure to keep passengers from falling out of the lift, during transit between floors. 

I also remember using in one lift in Vienna, installed in a block of flats where a dear friend of ours lived up on the fourth floor; we used to ride in the lift whenever we visited her. However, in that system,  there was no such inner door; once the outer door was shut, as the lift ascended, you could see all the walls of the lift shaft passing by on the way up. Anyone could easily have put out a hand to touch the walls, which might have resulted in a nasty accident.

Winston Churchill's lift 

The gardens at Chartwell are beautifully manicured, and we enjoyed watching a pair of black swans "necking" on one of the  lakes. They had just swum apart as I took this photograph!

Winston Churchill had a favourite spot to sit by one of the ponds:

A beautiful place to just "be," and think!

Wendy also in need of a space for some contemplation!

When he lived there, Churchill had a marmalade cat called Jock; he had a white bib and 4 white socks, and one of the conditions that still applies to the custodians of Chartwell House is that there must always be a marmalade cat called Jock in residence. The current incumbent is No 7 in the long line of "Jocks;" Jock No 6 is still alive, but sadly he went blind, and so has been adopted by a member of the National Trust staff. He now lives in comfortable retirement.  We so hoped we would be lucky enough during our visit to see Jock No 7 wandering around the grounds, but alas, that was not to be. We are thinking of a return visit in the summer, when the weather will be much warmer, and hope to have better luck then.

And this picture, I think, is the most evocative of the beauty of Chartwell

  

Remembering Mum

Remembering Mum

One hundred and two years ago today, on 28 October 1919, Mum was born in Liverpool; it was her parents' third Wedding Anniversary, and my Grandma always said Mum's birth was the best Anniversary present she could have been given. 

Mum already had an elder brother, Austin, who had been born in 1917, so with a toddler and a baby to look after, my Grandma must have had her hands full! Exactly four and a half years later, Mum's "baby" brother, my Uncle John, was born - on 28 April 1923 - but Grandma always said my Mum was an easy baby, and as she grew up, once Grandma had got her washed and dressed and ready to go out, Mum could be relied upon to sit for a while and play nicely, until it was time to go - probably unlike her brothers, who could be equally relied upon to get themselves dishevelled within five minutes of having their hair brushed!   

It feels very strange not having Mum's physical presence here in the house, and we miss her so much; but we still feel her spirit and personality surrounding us, which will stay with us forever. 

We have happy memories of singing and talking, and of course our great trips to take Tea at the Ritz - how Mum loved those, and all the attention she was given on her special days. 

I am so glad Mum was able to celebrate her 100th birthday, with the card from The Queen on her table, and all of us singing Happy Birthday to her, and all the other guests in the Palm Court joining in with the good wishes. 

So: Although Mum is not able to be with us, we are all thinking of her; we talk about her, and remember happy days. 

God bless you, Mum.

Al, Wendy, Alexandra, Mum, Bob, Sydney (Mum's lovely carer)

BIRTHDAY POEM  

It’s not every day we celebrate

A great centenary year

And now that you’re one hundred

It’s time to raise a cheer

For so many things that you have done

You’ve travelled far and wide

To Africa in all its ways

With Grandma by your side.

You’ve worked in jobs demanding much

But the pinnacle of your career

Was to land a top post in Treasury

A male-dominated sphere!

There have been seismic changes

But you’ve coped with every one

And risen up to do your best

And come out well and strong. 

We’re a family small, but large on love

You’re our universal glue,

Helping and encouraging us

To stay steadfast and true.

So we can celebrate with love

And congratulatory cheer

This special gathering at the Ritz

Now that your birthday’s here.

Alexandra Wilde

Birthday Girl Mum!

A creamy, dreamy birthday cake

Evensong (3)

Evensong (3)

We had also been invited to attend Evensong at St George's Chapel; this began at 5.15, so presently we made our way back to the Chapel to find a pew. What an inspiring service it was; the congregation did not sing, but the choir was in magnificent voice, and it was such a moving and inspirational ending to a beautiful day. 

On the way to St George's Chapel

And we were very blessed with the weather: for an October day, it could have been pouring with rain, or "blowing a hooligan!" which would definitely have put a damper on the proceedings, but we had sunshine, with a little wind or a gentle breeze. 

Finally, we said goodbye to all the lovely people we had met, and returned to the car. All this excitement had made us ready for some dinner, and as I knew I wouldn't be very inclined to make anything when we got home, Wendy discovered a Beefeater restaurant in Bracknell, and we headed off there. That was also a good choice, and it was great to have the chance to relax, and talk about the day we'd had. We ordered pots of tea all round, and with  a good evening meal inside us, we set off for home at about 9.00  p.m.   

We had met such interesting people, exchanging ideas and experiences, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves; and how did I get on after all this walking, climbing, and non-stop concentration? 

Well: I was pretty tired - but so were we all - and I had muscles I had forgotten I possessed, protesting at the heavy demands I had made on them: All those hills, stairs and slopes (have I mentioned them earlier in this piece? Yup!) had provided the biggest work-out I have had for a very long time, but I came through it all. 

We have a couple of other days out planned - more about those later - but in the meantime, I felt really pleased with the way I had coped with everything.

Lunch In Windsor (2)

Lunch In Windsor    (2)

Cote Brasserie

We arrived at the Restaurant at 11.45, and as we went up the stairs, Wendy and I noticed a sign saying breakfast was available until midday. Before leaving home we had had only cereal, and the idea of a proper breakfast was irresistible! so we opted for that, instead of a lunch, and what a great choice it was, setting us up for the rest of the day.

I climbed up hills, stairs and slopes, and before going on to visit the castle itself, we were first treated to a personalised tour of St George's Chapel, with such a knowledgeable guide, who made even the lengthiest list of dates come alive.

St George's Chapel 

After bidding our guide at St George's Chapel farewell, we went straight on for a tour of the Castle itself. Everyone was given a personal audio guide, which took me a while to get to grips with; but once I had mastered the technique of scrolling to the relevant segment for the next room we were in, I was well away. 

It was extremely interesting, but there was so much to take in, we all treated this occasion as a "taster" for future visits, and the great thing about the tickets we were given is that they were stamped "complimentary readmission for a year"! allowing multiple visits to the castle. We shall be back!

After walking round the beautiful rooms - Wendy was especially impressed with the Crimson Room - we went out into the fresh air, and I was really glad of the chance to have a rest for a short while. Out of my capacious handbag (no, not a Mary Poppins' sized carpet bag - but large enough!) I produced a supply of Twix bars, and we all tucked in, sitting on a bench in the sunshine.  

We Are Becoming Quite Adventurous! (Part 1)

We Are Becoming Quite Adventurous!  (Part 1)

Whatever can be going on?! We have now all received our booster inoculations, and whilst we are still continuing to be careful, there is a feeling of a sea-change in our lives: a hope for a more normal way of life, and we are making more plans and looking forward to social events. The latest one came around last Thursday, with a memorable afternoon spent at Windsor Castle; Wendy took many great photographs, some of which I'll add here, and they bring back good memories of a lovely time. 

Visiting the castle involves a lot of walking; for a start, visitors have to climb up the steep hill to the castle area, which is quite demanding, and I was a little apprehensive - not so much about having to decide whether or not to wear a mask (most people didn't), but because it promised to be a very strenuous afternoon; and would I have the stamina for it? As it turned out, yes, I did!

First of all, we had a good drive to Windsor. As we pootled along, Wendy recalled an occasion when she was about four years old: her Grandma and Great-Grandma had been staying with us in Portsmouth, for about 6 weeks - Mum made so much effort to organise her and Grandma's regular visits back to England, and they would spend as much time with us, as they possibly could, although it was always sad when the time came for them to return to South Africa. We would all go to the airport to see them off, and on this particular occasion, Wendy said she remembered going to Heathrow with them, but then, on the way back to Portsmouth, she had fallen asleep, only to wake up much later on, to hear her Dad remarking, "Well, that was a nice little drive around Windsor!" She was quite miffed to have missed it, especially as after that, she had only ever seen Windsor from the air, whilst the planes are still climbing after take-off from Heathrow. Whenever we fly off somewhere, Wendy always manages to get a window seat, and is usually glued to the unfolding view of the towns and countryside below. 

Windsor Castle Parade Ground

Arriving in Windsor, we found brilliant parking in the Alma Street car park. We had been worried about this, because spaces were not pre-bookable, but it turned out there were so many free bays available, we had a great choice of spaces.  We walked through to the High Street, to find the Cote Brasserie, where it had been arranged we would meet the other people who would be with us on the day, and enjoy lunch together.

Windsor Royal Shopping

Alexandra and Wendy and Bob

My Thoughts Turn To Christmas

My Thoughts Turn To Christmas

"What!" I hear people exclaim, "we're only just in the first week or so of October, and you're talking about Christmas?!"

Well, yes. The days fly so fast, and although it's been only about three weeks since the autumn equinox, before we know it, we will be celebrating Christmas again; and I do love the Festive Season! 

So I have got myself organised even earlier this year, with my 2021 Christmas card list all written out, and presents ordered from Fortnum and Mason, to be sent off to dear friends and loved ones.

This year, with so many people having been vaccinated against the dreaded virus, there is hope in the air that things are improving; we are still being careful, and wearing masks in public, but with most folk now at least double-vaccinated, and more having had their booster inoculation as well, perhaps it is time to relax a little and allow ourselves to be joyful.

Most of the major London stores have already unveiled their Christmas windows - I love the imaginative displays and decorations so many of them produce, some themed to a specific "story," whilst others just rejoice in all the excitement and anticipation of happy times to come - and I am having a great time, wrapping up all the gifts.

This year, we also hope to be able to drive to visit friends and relations; it will be so wonderful to see them again, after nearly two years of having just phone calls and letters to keep in touch. I write enough letters anyway to keep the Post Office going single-handedly, but having that personal contact again will be wonderful. 

A Bit Of A Disappointment

A Bit Of A Disappointment 

The next day, Friday, had been earmarked for a special jaunt to the Ffestiniog and Welsh Highland Railway, with the trip booked on the Mountain Prince option; we were especially looking forward to this, and being able to travel round The Spiral, and to the place where we could disembark for an hour and have a cream tea, before the return journey to Porthmadog.

The following is a brief quote from the Ffestiniog and Welsh Highland Railways' own description of the line:

"The restoration of the Ffestiniog Railway took almost thirty years before returning to Blaenau Ffestiniog. One of the major hurdles was a reservoir which had flooded the line during closure. A major project to raise the railway up to enable it to go round the side of the reservoir was ‘The Deviation’ involving a new tunnel and a great spiral of track being built around Dduallt station, a remote halt in the mountains. 

This heritage style service will take you above the treeline beyond Tan-y-Bwlch to Dduallt, including a trip around the spiral, the amazing volunteer project built in the 1970s with huge cuttings, high embankments and a bridge over the top of the line along which you have just travelled. There are some great views beyond Tan-y-Bwlch over the delightful Vale of Ffestiniog and towards distant mountains."

Our trip was booked on the 13.40 service, and we had been asked to arrive at 13.00, so that we could meet our host, and choose which carriage we would like to travel in. We knew that once you leave England and enter Wales, it is a two-hour drive to the Station; the roads are interesting, and we didn't want to be in any hurry, so we left early and arrived at Porthmadog at about 12.30 p.m. 

Well, we must be fated to have this trip delayed! We had already cancelled an earlier reservation in June, because of concerns about the virus, and I'd rebooked it for September - reckoning, rightly, that restrictions and worries would be lessening by now. However! this had not taken into account the fact that steam locos are mechanical beasts and liable to failing; and this is what had happened earlier that morning, leaving one loco stranded up the mountain. 

Everyone was terribly apologetic about it. Of course, we understood completely: engines fail, and there would be no steam on the Mountain Prince today.

We sat on the platform for a while, and had an ice cream; I went for a wander to see the other loco in steam, that was running with a different service that had started out from Caernarfon. This was an ex-South African Railways/Suid Afrikaanse Spoorwee Garrett loco, and looking very smart indeed. Alas for us, that particular service was fully booked! and in any case there was no chance of us boarding an alternative trip to Caernarfon, as there would have been no train to return us from there to Porthmadog; but I did get up on the footplate with Wendy, and the Guard took a couple of photos of us. 

There is very little space on these footplates - Wendy and I really had to squash up together and lean forward to be in the frame:

Wendy and me on the footplate - and that isn't a plaster on Wendy's arm, just the sunlight!

I remember the Garretts in East Africa, and the times when we travelled overnight, and the steward would come in to make up our beds for the night. He (I remember them as always being stewards) would come in, laden with a couple of "bedrolls", and transform our compartment from the day-time seating arrangement into a two-berth cabin. When everything was secure, and the upper bunk locked into place, he would undo the straps around the bedding, unroll it all out, in two minutes turning the bunks into beds with crisply starched sheets (and equally crisply starched pillow slips over the pillows!) and fresh blankets. I can only remember drifting off to the gentle lullaby of the clicketty-clack, clicketty-clack of the carriages rattling down the track; and not stirring until morning. 

Well, the lack of steam this day was a disappointment; but it had to be accepted, and we have got an "eternal" credit note to use for our next booking. Let's hope that it will be third time lucky!

So, an interesting day after all, and then the drive back to England, followed by a welcome dinner at the Beefeater Restaurant attached the hotel where we were staying. 

Again, all the staff made us so welcome, it was a real "home from home" feeling, and after we got home from our break away, I was inspired to write a sonnet for them, which also formed part of my very favourable review on TripAdvisor:

A Poem For Preston Brook (A great place to stay and eat!)

 by Alexandra Wilde

 

We took the chance of a few days away

To a place where we’ve stayed before:

At the Premier Inn at Preston Brook,

With the Beefeater right next door. 

All the staff are terrific, 

Charming, courteous and kind

They all pull together, as of one mind -

We couldn’t have enjoyed it more.

 

The welcome's so warm – they remember us, 

And fulfil every wish without any fuss. 

With Caren and Molly, Toni and Fran

Kathryn and Abi, India, Jo and Rhian.

They’re all five-star ladies, scoring 10 out of 10, 

And we can’t wait to return to Preston again!

(...And that last rhyming couplet says it all!)

 

We Have a Few Days Away

We Have A Few Days Away

It has been such a long while since we had a proper "break away," and we decided the time was right to take the opportunity and actually have a mini holiday.

We drove up north, to Preston Brook, booking accommodation at the Premier Inn; we have stayed there before, it's a lovely hotel, the staff are always welcoming, and everyone very careful to maintain excellent standards of hygiene to keep the guests safe in these still uncertain times.

It's a long drive, but we bowled along happily, taking Al's good advice to use the section of the M6 that is a toll road, but that is an absolute pleasure to drive along, with the added bonus of a very modern and rather superior set of services en route! 

The last time we were up north was in September 2020, for Mum's funeral in Kirkdale. I couldn't think what sort of flowers to take to lay on her grave, but then, as we neared Chester, Wendy saw a Garden Centre, so we pulled in there and had a good look around. I explained to a very helpful lady that I was looking for something that would be tolerant of being left alone - I can't get up to water any plants - and she directed us to a section where there were rockery and alpine plants, which she reckoned would fit the bill.  

I chose three: they were all quite small, one with pink flowers, another with yellow flowers, and a third that looked circular and cactus like, and hoped that at least one would "take"!

On arrival at the Hotel, and later in the Restaurant, we were greeted like old friends; it was so good to be back!

The next day, we drove into Liverpool and to Kirkdale; Wendy knew exactly where to go in the cemetery, and parked right by the line of graves where Mum is buried, and we found it easily, next to Aunt Marion's gravestone. The two little "frames" that had held the information about Mum at the time of her funeral, were still in place at her head; our family grave had slipped and settled a little bit, but I can see it won't be too long now, before I shall be able to start making enquiries about a headstone and kerb for Mum. I know she wanted to have one in the shape of a book, so that the names of the four members of our family can be inscribed: Mum's elder brother, Austen, who died in 1938; her father, who died in 1943; her mother, my Grandma, who died in 1985 and then of course Mum herself, who died in March last year. I will make sure I follow her wishes, and I think I will be able to do something about it, next year. 

Bob had bought a little gardening fork and some gloves; he set about tidying up the grave, removing any adventurous weeds, and it wasn't long before it looked really neat. Then he hollowed out three little holes and put in the alpines we'd bought from the Garden Centre - we weren't sure if we were allowed to put in any plants, but as they are so small, and very unobtrusive, we hoped any groundsmen tending the graves might let them stay there. 

Mum's grave at Kirkdale

We then went for a very happy visit, meeting a lovely family who live a few miles away. These are folks I have written to and kept in touch with for years, but have never actually met! So we all felt it was about time we did get together, and put names to faces. What a treat it was! and for me it did not feel as though this was our first meeting, but more like a wonderful catching up after some time when we couldn't see each other!

Nanny Joan: The Day Went Beautifully

Nanny Joan: The Day Went Beautifully 

Nanny Joan's funeral took place last Monday, in Torquay; it felt so strange to be driving down to the West Country especially for her, yet knowing we would not be able to see her and share her company again. 

Because it was a long way, we stayed overnight in Exeter, so that we would have no problem in getting there in good time on Monday morning; we didn't want to be faced with the possibility of heavy traffic and hold-ups en route. In fact, we arrived at about 10.30 and parked outside the funeral directors' offices, and went in to see the gentleman on the desk. 

I asked if it would be possible for me to see Joan to say my personal goodbye? It was, and I went in to the Chapel of Rest to say a little prayer and a few words of farewell. Joan looked beautiful and I was so glad I had gone in to see her. 

There was then still quite some time to wait until the funeral at 12.00, so we drove into the town centre for a little while; Wendy and Al had driven down separately, and we met up with them when it was nearly midday. By then, many other members of Joan's family had also arrived, some of whom I was meeting for the first time. 

The service was simple and sincere, and it was also a celebration of Joan's life. Afterwards, the family had arranged a buffet lunch at a very nice pub; again, I was very pleased to have the opportunity of meeting more of Joan's wider family, and catching up with those people that I already knew. 

Facing a lengthy journey back home, we could not stay long in Torquay; soon we had to leave to drive back to London, but it had been well worth while, making the effort to attend. I only wish it could have been an occasion when Joan was still with us, but we have such happy memories of all those past years of knowing her, and the day was a real celebration of her life, and all the love she inspired. 

We shall never forget her. 

Al's paternal Grandmother bows out

Al's Paternal Grandmother Bows Out

I haven't felt like writing very much over the past week or two because we have had some very sad news: Nanny Joan, Al's paternal Grandmother, died on 17th August, of heart failure. 

We have such good memories of Nanny Joan. When Al was born, he and Wendy went back to live at her house, until such time as they and Al's Dad found a flat of their own; and when she moved to the west country, whenever we visited her, Joan always made us so welcome. 

I especially remember one trip, when she took us to Kents Cavern in Torquay; it was a fascinating place, and Al enjoyed himself so much. 

In spite of the greater distance in miles between us, we always kept in touch by letter and by phone, and she never forgot Al at Christmas; there were always loving messages then, and on his birthdays. 

Joan was still so young - younger than me, anyway! - and it has certainly brought home to me, how blessed I have been to come through surgery and landed safely back on shore. 

We shall always remember her with so much love and affection, and keep her in our hearts and prayers. 

 

Taking A Trip Down Memory Lane

Taking A Trip Down Memory Lane

Driving home after our visit to Cheltenham, Wendy knew exactly where we were, so we turned off the main road, first heading to the village of Ducklington, to see if the duck pond was still there. We had heard it had been filled in, so we were really thrilled to see it, surrounded by trees, and a dozen or more ducks sitting on the grass verge, snoozing in the sun. 

Ducks galore!

There is now a notice by the pond, asking visitors "Please do not feed the ducks," so of course we didn't, but it was good to remember the time when we could take some bread for them, and enjoy having them quacking around our legs! Anyone who knows me, knows I love ducks! (Am I also quackers?!)

"Pondering" by the duck pond!

Cool Dude Wendy!

From the notice board, we read St Bartholomew's Church is also holding regular services, so there is obviously still a congregation to be ministered to. 

Wendy outside St Bartholomew's Church

When we left Ducklington, and before we got back onto the motorway to head for home, Wendy first turned into the driveway of the Four Pillars Hotel. It looked as though it was doing well, with a full car park, and lots of people sitting at tables outside, enjoying a drink in the sun. The flower baskets were blooming, and everything looked spick and span; we just hope the hotel continues to flourish. Maybe one day we'll go back to sample the delights of a Christmas holiday with them again. 

Remembering Christmases At The Four Pillars Hotel

Remembering Christmases At The Four Pillars Hotel

Guests were asked to arrive after 2.00 p.m. on the 23 December, where everyone was greeted with a welcome drink, followed by Christmas carols in the lounge; we were shown to our rooms, and there was always plenty of time to unpack, and get ready for dinner.  

After breakfast on Christmas Eve, we either drove into Witney to look round the shops - I bought a lovely pair of shoes there, and I remember Mum enjoyed going into all the little boutiques and chatting away to the owners and staff. There was also a specialist teddy bear shop, with Steiff bears - at this distance, I can't remember if we bought one or not, but it was such an interesting emporium for bear lovers!  - or else we would have a go in the swimming pool at the hotel. 

Oh, yes - Wendy and I are great swimmers - holding on to the foam rubber long float all the while! We never did seem to get the hang of it. I would always stay in the shallow end, where I could still put my feet down on the bottom of the pool, and then try to launch myself full length on the water and start using my arms and legs to try to swim. Just when I thought I was going forward with a few strokes, I'd lose confidence and put my feet down again. Oh dear. 

Never mind - I was always a better decoration poolside than potential Olympic medallist. Wendy persevered more determinedly, but she, too, never managed to really get going. 

In the evening, there was a lovely dinner and a disco; and, later still, we could attend the Midnight Holy Communion Service at St. Bartholomew's Church in the village. 

Come Christmas morning, we discovered that during the night, the staff had been busy; a filled Christmas stocking for every guest was looped over the handle of each room - this started the day off beautifully. 

After breakfast, our little family gathered in our room and opened all our presents, and relaxed until it was time for Christmas dinner

This was a special occasion, with the traditional English Christmas meal of turkey and roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots, peas - the "whole nine yards!" Father Christmas came to every table, presenting each guest with a gift - it was all done so sweetly, and you really were made to feel special. 

On Christmas night, the management set up a "Casino," providing "chips" for guests to play roulette, blackjack, and a couple of other games - my fun was not to win, but to see how long I could make my chips last! I reckoned if, after half an hour, I still had a few left, I was doing well.

On Boxing Day, breakfast was scheduled a little later than normal, with Bucks Fizz on offer; it was a quieter day, to allow any guests who had perhaps enjoyed the Christmas Spirit a little too much, time to recover! Of course we also had lunch and dinner, and there was another dance in the evening, with a singer, and sometimes the manager would also arrange a Fancy-Dress competition. One year, Bob went as Blofeld from the James Bond film - I had great fun drawing a menacing scar down his cheek (did Blofeld have a scar? If he didn't, I plead theatrical licence!) - and as we didn't have a white cat, we bought a large soft toy dog instead, reckoning that would have to do. 

Either way, I think we totally confused the judges, because they awarded Bob first prize! Luckily, they didn't ask us to elaborate on what his character was meant to be...

As I said, the staff worked incredibly hard to entertain us, and we couldn't forget that many also had families with whom they would have liked to spend their Christmas. At various times during our stay, they organised a bingo afternoon, and horse racing in the lounge - not, of course, that we had full-sized steeds prancing around indoors, but long sticks with painted wooden horses' heads nailed to the top! I remember when we were in East Africa, and used d to come back home to England by sea on the Union Castle ships, the passengers were also entertained with "Housey Housey" evenings and similar horse racing events! 

Thinking back to these happy Christmas holidays, I'm also reminded of the Dining Room Manager, Lillien - he was from Paris, and very charming. Because he saw Mum was not good at walking, at mealtimes he went to collect her from our room, and escorted her to the dining room. Mum held on to his arm, walking straighter than she usually did, and looking as thrilled as a teenager; she loved the attention!

If the weather was not too cold, we'd drive to Ducklington Village and park the car, walk round the duck pond, and Mum would feed the ducks. 

Ducklington Village, with the duck pond on the right

One year, we walked to a pub not far from the hotel, where a group of Mummers were performing a mediaeval play - what great traditions are kept up, and how much we enjoyed seeing them!

On the 27th December, it was time to pack up all our lovely presents and all the happy memories we made, and say farewell to new friends we'd made. We really felt we had been away not just 4 nights, but for much longer, and that was the reason we made our next booking before we set off for home!

Wendy and I Have A Day Out

Wendy and I Have A Day Out

The rain stopped lashing down, the thunder ceased to rumble, and the lightning gave up illuminating the night (and day) skies: in simple terms, the weather improved! and by good fortune, that was the day we chose to have a day out - "ein Tagesausflug" - and what a great time we enjoyed!

Still being concerned about social distancing, and not knowing how people would behave in restaurants, we took sandwiches and bottles of water, crisps and a couple of bars of Cadbury's Dairy Milk, and set off for a 250-mile round trip. 

Wendy loves to drive, so the distance didn't bother her, and it was just lovely to be driving out, bright and early, first to visit people in Gloucestershire, and then take ourselves on a leisurely journey back home.

It was also great to discover people are generally still being very careful to follow guidelines to protect fellow travellers who stop off at service stations; most were wearing masks and keeping their distance, so we felt pretty safe during the whole day.

As we neared Oxford, we reminisced about the great Christmases we had spent at the Four Pillars Hotel in Witney; they were really great times, with Mum in good form, and enjoying all the happy family festivities. We went back for the Christmas break for 4 years, and I certainly appreciated all the hard-working staff, who willingly took the strain of providing a happy time for everyone. 

We decided to make a little detour for a fleeting visit to Ducklington, the village near the Hotel, and see if things we remembered were still there!

Ducklington Village with St Bartholomew's Church

The Wanderer Returns

The Wanderer Returns

I once wrote a poem for Mum, about one of our cats, called "Where Does My Cat Get To?"

She had been worried about him, as he had been out for quite a while, and had not returned home when she expected him: 

Where Does My Cat Get To?

Where does my cat get to

In the middle of the night?

I hear those moggies yowling

And I'm sure he's in a fight!

But in the morning home he comes

With tail and head held high; 

His whiskers are a-gleaming

There's a glint in his green eyes.

Well, I guess he's free to wander

And come and go at will;

But when he weaves around my feet

I know he loves me still!

And when he rolled in the next morning, she was mightily relieved. 

Snowy, however, worried us because he - or she - had never stayed away for such a long time. I don't give up hope easily, and it was wonderful to have faith fulfilled when one night I looked at the cat flap in the back door and realised there was a little nose pressed up against it!

Snowy came over the threshold and was so hungry, he demolished two sachets of cat food in quick succession, followed by a portion of Munchies. 

Where had he been? Truly a case of "If only they could talk...!" what tales Snowy would tell. 

Since then, over the past few days, Snowy has been a regular visitor, but he has definitely lost weight after such a long absence. We are trying to build him up a bit, with lots of tasty treats. After he has had his fill, he still goes off to sit on the trellis over the fish pond, clearly hoping for a goldfish to leap obligingly out of the water, and straight into his paws! 

Although he seems  able to jump up onto the fish pond, we've also noticed he is limping a bit, preferring to keep his front paw off the ground. If it was possible for us to get him to the vet, we would book an appointment for him, but as this lameness has occurred before, and he did recover after some time, so we hope that will also be the case this time.

On some days, he has taken to sitting on one of the conversation chairs, soaking up the sun during the really hot days; when the heat has got too fierce, he takes refuge and sits on the little shelf underneath the conversation table, so he is still able to enjoy the fresh air whilst protected from the worst of the midday sun. 

One afternoon, he was sitting on the chair, and looking for all the world like a film star: I had no idea how long he would stay in that position, and then I had to run upstairs to fetch the camera, but when I got back, Snowy was still there, still posing, and reminiscent of that famous film star's line: "I'm ready for my close-up now, Mr de Mille..."

I took about half a dozen photos of Snowy, starting out quite a long way away, so that I wouldn't frighten or startle him. Gradually, I got closer, inching my way forward, and putting the zoom button into play. I ended up with two pictures that I think show what a beautiful cat Snowy is, and just how calm he was!

Holding Snowy's gaze

And now I am as close as I can dare to be -

Snowy can relax! 

And After The Storms... A Ray Of Hope

And After The Storms... A Ray Of Hope

A day later... at  dusk, there were other cloud formations, quite low in the sky, illuminated by the setting sun behind them. One was captured with the rays of the sun shining outwards, like a heavenly radiance.

After unleashing her magnificent wrath on the earth, Mother Nature can also be very inspiring, and so very beautiful. 

Sunset at home

A Storm Cloud Gathers...

 A Storm Cloud Gathers...

What strange weather we have been having. Extremely hot, especially in the south, and thank heavens we have an air conditioning unit in the bedroom, which means we can at least sleep at night; during the day, it has been quite stifling. 

Added to which, the dreadful news of extreme rainfall in Germany, resulting in terrible floods, showed so clearly the devastation wreaked by nature; there has been much loss of life, homes swept away, and streets turned into rivers. 

We have dear friends in Germany, and happily they are all safe and well, but they have endured some anxious and frightening times. Now the clean-up has begun, but it must be heart-breaking for so many people who have lost everything, and have to start again. 

In America and Canada, too, there has been appalling heat, with people experiencing what has been called a "heat dome," and enduring it as best they can. 

It shows how fragile we humans are, when it comes to surviving extreme temperatures; we're happiest existing in a fairly narrow temperate range!

A couple of days ago, we were warned of thunderstorms and rain, but for most of the day, the sky remained cloudless, until we went outside and looked up: and there was a cloud on high, looking for all the world like something out of the film, Independence Day. Apart from three or four sprinkles of rain, and a few rumbles of thunder, that particular episode passed us by. 

A scene to inspire the makers of Independence Day?

Snowy

Snowy

It's been weeks now, since we last saw Snowy - the cat who started coming round to see us regularly, waiting by the back door, his/her little nose pressed up against the cat flap, expecting (and getting) as many square meals a day as he - or she - wanted. 

We definitely don't like being "cat-less," and since we lost both Blackie and Pushkin, apart from seeing the Ginger Tom in the garden occasionally - whom we know is owned by folks in a house down the road - we have missed having a loving cat around. 

In spite of his feral nature, we hoped that, over time, Snowy might become more tame. After  all, when Mum first became acquainted with Pushkin and Tiddlywinks, they were also semi-feral, but would allow Mum to stroke them - at first, only momentarily, before they would pull away, but later on, a bit more willingly. I remember a time when they were unwell, and we had a home visit from the vet; he diagnosed them both with cat flu, and prescribed medication for them. Pushkin would take her tablet in with her dinner, but for Tiddlywinks I could wrap each pill in a piece of ham (only the best, of course!) and she would take the "ham and pill parcel" from my hand! 

That didn't last, because over yet more time, Tiddlywinks never got any friendlier, but Pushkin did, eventually becoming very much a house pussycat, happy to be loved and cuddled on a lap.  Pushkin was also the one who would throw herself at my feet whilst I settled down to the ironing; that was when I knew she was waiting for me to take my slippers off, and use my toes to tickle her ears. What a strange, unique cat she was! and a very lady-like cat, who could hold her own against Blackie. 

Blackie, of course, was a different personality altogether; very vocal, very demanding, with an "I'M HERE!" personality; he was a cat who could not be ignored. He was the cat who arrived "from nowhere," and although he was very nervous at first, he quickly decided we were definitely his people, and we counted ourselves lucky to be chosen as his family. 

Without Blackie and Pushkin, the house seems empty, and we had been nursing hopes that Snowy might one day decide to stay with us on a more permanent basis. Quite possibly these were forlorn hopes, because Snowy, from the first time he condescended to accept food from us, was in a constant state of nervousness, and ready for immediate flight. He had started to come in over the kitchen threshold, and eat his dinner in the kitchen - always with the door open, of course, allowing him a swift retreat when he felt the need to flee! - but we hoped he would also feel safe with us, and know he could relax eating "just indoors." When he ate his food on the step, he was always looking round anxiously, for any perceived danger. 

There were also occasions when Snowy would be just inside the kitchen, sitting on the mat, and looking out on the patio; in that position I'm sure he felt safe, and that we were guarding his back!  Sometimes he'd sit on one of the patio chairs, or the bench, and soak up some sun, and have a wash, or else be snoozing in the little cat house, also on the patio. He would lie in that, right at the very back, so at first glance you could not see he was there, but then, on a longer look, you could the splash of white on his paws as he was curled up, and think he must be happy and comfortable, dry and warm - and hope he felt safe. 

Sometimes Snowy would come round 3 - or even on occasion 4! - times a day, and very clearly hungry; we would wonder where he had been, as he could get through two or three sachets at a sitting! and then afterwards he might go and sit on the trellis over the fishpond and watch the fish swimming underneath the water. 

Even though we haven't seen him or such a long while now - it's been weeks - we still don't want to abandon hope, and wonder if perhaps he has been locked in somewhere; but we can't help but start to think we may not see him again. We are keeping him in our thoughts. 

Such a very particular cat!

The white flashes of Snowy's fur made us think he had just climbed out of a snowdrift...

Safe, inside the kitchen

So Where Shall We Book Our Next Champagne Tea?

So Where Shall We Book Our Next Champagne Tea?

June 21st marked our first visit for Afternoon Tea at Fortnum and Mason and, after so many years of faithfully taking Tea at the Ritz, we could not help but make comparisons between the two. We have so many memories of the times we went with Mum to the Ritz, and how kind people were, but during our last couple of visits, we noticed things had changed a bit, with staff retiring and leaving; the Ritz Fine Jewellery closed, with a Cigar Emporium opened in its place, and now the Hotel is under new ownership. I know everything changes, but we all feel we would prefer to keep our memories of the Ritz as it used to be, and when it was in its heyday for us. 

Wendy hit the nail on the head, when she commented that she felt the Jubilee Tea Salon had "more heart," and over the next few days, I was inspired to write a couple of poems about our experience; one sonnet is for the Jubilee Tea Salon, and the other for the shop. 

A DIAMOND JUBILEE TEA SALON SONNET

 

It’s a fine and elegant venue: 

The best place in town to take tea

Named after the sixty great years of her reign, 

The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee.

We’d followed the guidelines, and at last there was cheer

To celebrate milestones we’d marked through the year.

The staff were most charming, and all of one mind,

Fulfilling our wishes, so attentive and kind.

 

With the Steinway piano magnificently played,

Adding romance to the ambience tastefully displayed.

And now family and friends can gather once more,

There’s no better place to meet to ensure

The making of memories, with time to renew

The ties of family and friendship, and love that stays true.

 

Alexandra Wilde

June 2021

FORTNUM AND MASON –

THE ESSENCE OF EXCELLENCE

  

Fortnum and Mason is an iconic store

With selections of tea and biscuits galore

From the moment you step through those sturdy oak doors

You’re in a world-famous emporium with delights on each floor

The windows are inspiring - a sight to behold -

Imagination takes flight, and the subjects are bold 

There are perfumes and silks and so very much more

Special gifts to take home to those we adore.

 

Whilst up on the roof, in Eau de Nil hives

The bees buzz industriously, throughout their short lives

For over three hundred years, Fortnums has stood

For quality, choice, and all that is good

The options are boundless, and rare as pure gold,

Inspired by a world where fine goods are sold.

 

Alexandra Wilde

June 2021

 

I've posted the poems to the management at Fortnum and Mason - it will be interesting to have their opinion! - and I hope they approve. 

Now we are looking forward to Her Majesty's Platinum Jubilee, I'm trusting Erato, the muse of poetry, will inspire me again!