The Butler Did It

On Thursday hubby and I enjoyed a day out together. Our destination was Greenway, Agatha Christie's cherished holiday home in Devon: "the loveliest place in the world", as she called it. It took us just over an hour to drive there - we still pinch ourselves to think we live so close to the delights that this county (and the others that form the 'West Country') has to offer.

Externally, the house is splendid; internally, it wasn't quite my cup of tea (no photos are allowed inside the house due to copyright, so I can't really show you what I mean); apparently the Christie/Mallowan/Hicks clan were quite the collectors and it shows in the number of nic-nacs that are dotted here, there and everywhere. According to one of the volunteers we spoke to, there were 12,000 items waiting to be catalogued when the Trust took over the house in 2000.

We had pre-booked lunch in the old kitchen (thanks to a very timely visit by Jessica over at Rusty Duck who had done just the same thing a week earlier and recommended it); the food was lovely: I had prawn cocktail, smoked salmon and smoked mackerel for my main course and Eton Mess for desert. Very generous portions meant hubby and I then had to seek refuge in the well-placed deckchairs at the front of the house for about an hour before we headed off to explore the gardens and the boathouse (scene of a murder in Dead Man's Folly) where Agatha apparently liked to read over her manuscripts. The gardens are set on a steep slope which meant a bit of a climb, but the views from the top were worth the effort. And then it was a downhill amble to the greenhouses, where hubby displayed quite a bit of 'greenhouse envy'.

After that it was time for afternoon tea before jumping in the car at about 5pm to head off on the next part of our day out - but that can wait for another post.

View of the River Dart on the walk to the house

Hubby enjoying his Eton Mess in the old kitchen

A well-earned rest

Wonderful views from the Battery

Busy River Dart

Plunge pool beneath the Boat House

The Boat House

Yours truly

View from the very top of the gardens

Greenhouse envy

And who can blame him?

The Peach House

Redundant

adjective: not or no longer needed or useful; superfluous

So, it would appear that I am on course to be made redundant! I've never been in this position before, having always resigned from any previous job:
my Saturday job in a greengrocer's when I was 15-16 (such a handy job to have since it means I can tell the difference between a turnip and a swede, still pretty accurately pick out a quarter of mushrooms [working in pounds & ounces, not those dratted kilo things] and do some quick adding up with a paper and pencil;
my job in a local convenience store when I was 17-18;
the job in John Menzies in Reading railway station on a Sunday all through university (I served Rolf Harris, Anton Rogers and members of the New Zeland rugby team during my time there, not to mention eating my bodyweight in Cadbury's Mini Eggs and other sweets that 'mysteriously' fell out of the bags...);
then there was the Christmas job in WHSmith's book department (loved that job);
then pretty much as soon as I finished university I got a job (firstly in the indexing department and then in the editorial department where I ended my time being Senior Editor) with the publishing company that I still work for (for the time being, at least). If I hadn't got bored after ten years and taken a break (to work in Monsoon, the University of Reading Library, to go travelling and to have a baby), I'd have been there for 18 years - wowzer, imagine the payout! But, I did take a break and only went back while pregnant (so I could get maternity allowance) and then again when DC was about five months old (confused yet?!); the job (I'm back to indexing) has been perfect for me since I've been able to work from home and it's all flexi-time so I can do an hour here or six hours there, all fitting around DC and his nursery days. But, alas and alack, all good things must come to an end and we are officially in the 'consultation period' where things are discussed, but all anyone really wants to know is 'How much money will I get?' What will the future hold? Well, the redundancy money isn't going to be a lifechanger, that's for sure. But does this enforced change offer me the opportunity to do something different? I'm really not sure. I need to think things through and come up with a plan. Alternatively, I'll not do any thinking and I'll just fall into something new at some point. Yes, that's more likely.

Sunday Stroll

On Sunday morning DC announced that he wanted to go and play Pooh sticks; he really is rather obsessed with the game at the moment. Until now playing Pooh sticks has involed getting in the car and driving to one of two locations where we know there is a bridge/stream combo, but this time we decided to venture out on foot (after hubby had consulted the local OS map), because surely, surely, surely there had to be a bit of running water nearby. So, out of the front door, turn right, along the road, turn left, cross over, off down the little path we call Gruffalo Alley, over the stile

and this wonderful view unfolds

Down the hill.

Come on, keep up.

Along the path.

Through this field (past the herd of cows; never sure whether to be nervous of them, or not.)

Stop to admire (and step in) the cow pats.

And finally find the bridge/stream combo that is perfect for Pooh sticks.

Play Pooh sticks, a lot

Have a little picnic.

 Commune with nature.

 Think they wanted to play Moo sticks?

Walk a bit further and find another Pooh stick-ready bridge/stream combo

Then head home.

With a little stop at the pub for a well-earned packet of crisps and a drink of cordial.

A lovely way to spend a Sunday morning. Do you play Pooh sticks, too?

Book Review No. 12: The Great Indoors

Ahh, one of the many joys of going on holiday is the opportunity to read lots (and lots, or even just a little.) And there's also the pre-holiday pleasure of choosing which book(s) to pop in your bag. Obviously this does depend somewhat on the type of holiday you're on; trekking in the Himalayas, for instance, might not leave a lot of time for putting your feet up and enjoying a spot of book-delving but a week or so by the beach definitely lends itself to reading, and reading some more. Bliss. So prepare for several book reviews in quick succession since I managed to read three books in the nine days we were away - I was cooking reading on gas. Of course it helps that hubby and I are so competitive and we're eager to see who can read the most books this year; I'm currently winning with number 15 on the go right now, versus his number 12 (childish, much?)

Anyway, let's get on with the show. Here's book number 12 - The Great Indoors by Sabine Durrant.

When we go on holiday (although that makes it sound like we go on holiday a lot, and we don't) I trawl through my unread book case (non-cosy) and specifically pull out books that have been in there for a long time so that I'm forced to read them rather than letting them sit on the shelves for another month, year, decade. I also try to choose books that I might not mind leaving behind (I like to keep books for the most part, don't ask me why, it's just one of my [many] foibles) to make room in the suitcase for a souvenir or two. Hence, this book was chosen. I know I've read another by this author which must be why this one got picked up in a charity shop (pencilled price inside gives the game away) and given shelf-space.

The main character is Martha, a single 30-something who has furniture instead of children and an antiques shop in lieu of any sort of personal life. Her life seems ordered and just as she wants it to be, but all is upset when her stepfather dies. Firstly she is entrusted to home or rehome his cat, which brings a possible romantic lead character into her life (a children's party magician with two offspring and a wife who has gone off to India to 'find herself'); secondly, she finds a bag of her old letters and memorabilia when sorting through her stepfather's belongings. This starts her off on a mission to reconnect with people from her past - school friends, other friends, work colleagues, ex-boyfriends and lovers. She even goes so far as to get back together with one of her exes, but I won't spoil the fun by telling you how that pans out.

I enjoyed this book; I'm not going to say I absolutely loved it, but as a holiday read it was great. I wasn't  expecting it to, but the story and characters interested me and I looked forward to having a few moments (or longer) here and there to get back into their lives to see what was going to happen next. It was a little slow to start, but well worth persevering through the initial pages. However, I found the ending very disappointing and unsatisfying; the story ended very suddenly, almost as if the author had completely run out of steam and/or ideas and just needed to wrap it up there and then.

So, if you see this book in a charity shop and you're looking for something fairly easy, but not too 'chick-litty' to read, it might be worth parting with a couple of coins for it.

This is Your Six Month Warning

This is a public service announcement.

It's six months til Christmas Day.

You're welcome :-)

Catalan Capers

Family W had a lovely time on our recent holiday in Catalonia (the region of Spain that encompasses Barcelona and stretches right up to the border with France.) We're very fortunate in that Hubby's parents own an apartment in a lovely, typically Spanish (ie non-tourist-y) coastal town about an hour's drive up the coast from Barcelona. The nearest airport is actually Girona but because only Ryanair fly there and I refuse to fly with them, we have to fly into Barcelona and drive up the motorway. Sorry about that.

Anyway, enough of me and my airline snobbery; here's what we got up to.

Lot's of sandcastle building.

Lots of hot chocolate drinking (for me, at least.) Forget the Spanish vino collapso, give me one of these beauties any day (or every day in fact.) Would you like hot chocolate with your cream, Senora?

Splashing about in the pool at the apartment.

Absolutely freezing apparently. But I never found out as I wasn't foolish enough to get in.

Ice cream eating. Strawberry flavour Smurf promotion.

And wiping it in your hair to look like someone out of There's Something About Mary.

More sandcastle building.

A spot of the old Reggie Perrin-ing.

And some supervising.

Oh, and a spot of paddling.

A rainy day trip to lovely Girona.

Yep, still raining.

A shop that sells all the weapons a small boy could ever wish for.

A spot of posing.

To recreate this shot from exactly a year earlier. Ahh, haven't they both grown!

Just a little more ice cream eating.

A gentle stroll round the harbour.

You can even see our apartment from here; if you squint a bit.

A little more hot chocolate drinking.

More beach time.

Posing for family snaps.

And all too soon it was time to head home; just enough time to grab another hot chocolate on the way to the airport.

And hours later we were doing this.

Umm, wait. Surely, hours later we should have been sitting at home in the English rain? Well, technically, yes. But the French air traffic control peeps had other ideas and so our flight home was cancelled. Next avaiable flight (if we didn't want to fly to Liverpool or Gatwick or somewhere else that wasn't Bristol)? 48 hours later. Oh dear, an extra two days holiday? Oh well, if you insist.

Book Review No. 11

Ahh, Mma Ramotswe! Long time, no see. This isn't the latest book in the series (this is no. 11 of 13); I'm a little behind with my No.1 Ladies Detective Agency reading, but I always like to keep one or two in reserve in case I get the urge to drift away to Botswana and the company of Mma Ramotswe, Mr JLB Matekoni, Mma Makutsi, etc. This series is my fall back - if I'm ever disillusioned with reading or I just haven't read a good book in a while, I know I can pick up one of these and all will be good again. I've read some reviews of the series where readers have said they are getting bored but I find that if you leave enough time between each book (unless you are really, really loving them and just can't get enough) then there is something comforting about being back amongst the same characters who (sad to say?) feel like old friends.

As with all of the other No.1 Ladies Detective Agency books, there are several threads to the story with Mma Ramotswe and her assistant Mma Makutsi dealing with an errant (or not) husband, a bequest from a wealthy American, a scam artist, and a particularly unfriendly female relative. But, when all is said and done, it's not the content of the stories that are important in this series, but more the way in which the stories are told. If you've never read a book from this series, I really would encourage you to do so - settle into your comfiest chair, with a mug or glass of your favourite drink (Mma Ramotswe would recommend red bush tea) and a slice of cake (Mma Ramotswe would approve) and lose yourself in Botswana.

Book Review No. 10

Well, that really was some break in proceedings, wasn't it? Many apologies for the lack of posts recently - we went on holiday, we got delayed on holiday (48 extra hours of fun in the sun, thank you very much), we came back, I was super-busy with work and now, finally, I've got some time to blog. Phew!

So, without further ado, I'm going to crack on with this long overdue book review. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

This was a choice from Book Club No. 2 (I belong to two book clubs, although I tend to dip in and out of Book Club No.2 more than I ever do with Book Club No.1; it's a much more informal gathering of an evening at different houses, with drinks and nibbles; that's not to say BC.1 is formal, it's just different.) Anyhoo, back to the point. This book (or another by the same author, I can't really be sure) was on my unread bookshelf for a very long time, making me feel guilty about not reading such a 'worthy' book until I dispensed with it (via the wonder that is eBay) and the guilt was gone. Ha. And then someone at BC2 suggested we read this one as she had enjoyed it and it was short. Well, the latter was a definite plus for me, if not the former as we all know that just because someone else enjoys a book, it's no guarantee that you will do the same.

The basic story is that of a lowly Andalusian shepherd named Santiago who meets a mysterious old man who tells him he will find his fortune at the pyramids in Egypt. So Santaigo sells his flock and sets off overland towards Egypt. He doesn't get very far before losing all his money (not only is he lowly, he's also very naive), and so he is forced to stay in Africa and work to earn enough money to either continue his travels or return home. After a year of working and saving he joins a caravan and sets off across the desert towards Egypt, but rumours of a tribal war force the caravan to stop at an oasis, where Santiago meets and falls in love with a local girl. More travelling and philosophising ensue before Santiago finally makes it to the pyramids. And I'm not going to spoil it for you and tell you whether he finds a pot of gold, just in case you want to read the book yourself!

So, my thoughts: I've never been a great believer in/fan of what I consider to be tree-hugging, knit-your-own-yak's-wool-teabag kind of books. Philosophy/self help/call it what you will, I'm more inclined to just say "Have a piece of cake and pull yourself together", because that's the sort of kind and caring individual I am. And thus I tend to avoid these books like the plague; perhaps I'm wrong to lump Mr Coelho into this category, but I don't think so. Which of course meant that I started reading The Alchemist with more than my fair share of doubt and scepticism and mostly it was not unfounded. Basically this is a folk tale or parable, all about following your dreams but actually discovering that everything you wanted was right there all along, you just needed to go out, have a good look around and see that things weren't so bad where you came from after all. That's not to say that you wouldn't learn things and enjoy great and not-so-great experiences along the way, but the grass is always greener, etc, etc.

The book is only 170-odd pages long so I didn't mind reading it really - the end was always in sight as I huffed my way through some parts wondering at what sort of person takes this all to heart and finds inspiration within these pages. Hmmmm. Yes, there are a few sentences that make you stop and think, mostly those that encourage you to enjoy the time you have and live in the moment, which is something we all need reminding of every now and again, but then there are sentences like this: "when you really want something, the whole universe conspires in helping you to achieve it".

Really? Is that what happens? I really want to win the lottery, lose 2 stone and grow three inches taller. Universe, are you listening? You need to conspire and help me out here. That sounds to be a bit like wanting something and expecting it to happen just because you want it enough. I thnk you'll find that if you really want something, you have to do something to go about making it happen yourself - buy a lottery ticket, stop eating all that cake, wear high heels. For instance.

All in all, this was not a good book for me, nor I a good reader for the book.

But, I promise the next book gets a positive review. Honest!

Cancelled

Apologies for the blogging hiatus. We're on holiday right now; we were due to fly home today but our flight was cancelled due to French air traffic control deciding to go on strike. Hence, we are bring forced to endure two more days of sun, blue skies and 26 degree temperatures. Sigh.