Merry Christmas

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign.

Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son

And shall call his name Immanuel.
Isaiah 7:14

A happy home, the joys of family, warmth, comfort, love, and togetherness

The below Thomas Kinkade painting is entitled The Night Before Christmas and, looking from the outside, encapsulates what this time of year means to me.  A happy home, the joys of family, warmth, comfort, love, and togetherness.  

It's easy to get swept along with the commercialism of Christmas, to buy a mountain of presents for loved ones, to seek out that too-good-to-be-true bargain in the sales, to go online on Christmas Day, in order to instantly spend those vouchers you only just received in a card from a long-lost grandparent or auntie.  We're all guilty of betraying our own underlying principles from time-to-time, but for me this Christmas, I'm going to make the extra effort to look within myself, to seek out the joy I can freely bring to others, and to take delight in all the wonderful things I have around me - a brightly-coloured cyclamen at the back of the garden; a robin snatching a peanut from the bird table; the words of a simple but beautifully arranged Christmas carol; and maybe - just maybe - the smiling face of a Christmas snowman.

In a weary world where the meaning of Christmas can be so easily lost, I wish every reader of this blog a peaceful, uplifting and fulfilling Christmas.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Ooooooo, they're here!  A lady called Elle, who lives in Texas, left a comment here back in the summer, saying that she was looking forward to the yearly appearance of these little wooden gems - and Elle, I share your excitement.  It's always a pleasure meet these colourful little characters again, they've become a real Christmas tradition in our household.

Yes, Christmas has arrived at Number Three, with all the usual excitement.  Our tree is a hotchpotch collection of hanging decorations, but that's just the way we like it.  No standard, corporate fir here, and each and every decoration has a personal story behind it.  Some were stalwarts of my childhood days, whilst others are far more recent; we have decorations bought in other countries, and even some given as gifts.  It all makes a tree that is uniquely personal to us, and one that makes me smile every time I give it a glance, because fond memories are hanging off every branch.

Amongst new decoration found this year in the shops, a wooden Nativity from the man at Marks and Spencer.  I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a children's toy, but I was instantly struck by its loveliness.  It has a style that I imagine fits in at a Ukrainian Orthodox church; it captured my heart and, since I have been lacking in a Nativity scene of my own, it came home as a reminder of the true meaning of Christmas.

There are many other little delights being stashed all over the house, but I really couldn't finish this blog without a little nod to our Lego winter village, fast taking on a life of its own.  This year it's on the dining room windowsill, and I'm not ashamed to admit there's a lot of fun to be had in arranging and rearranging the minifigures, setting them about their Christmas shopping, carolling, ice skating, or simply knocking back a glass of gluhwein.  Maybe I'm a big kid, but it has an innocence that just appeals to the Christmas spirit in me, like looking into a Bing Crosby film set.

  

Christmas 2015, and our home is bright, cheerful, and in the mood for celebration.  The relaxing scents of festive candles will soon be filling the air, presents for all are piling up under the tree, and the Christmas china is ready for its first outing.  The Radio Times sits poised on the coffee table, the chocolate biscuits lie ready in the kitchen, and there's a sense that with only one more week of work to get through, we're almost on holiday time... and I for one cannot wait!

The hundred-year letter - William Button's First World War

One hundred years ago today, my great-grandfather wrote a letter to my great-grandmother, from an encampment in Palestine.  The year was 1915, and a young William H Button had volunteered to serve with the Royal Gloucestershire Hussars (RGH) during the First World War.  Having sailed to Egypt on the SS Themistocles, an ocean liner turned troop ship, William was one of the fresh wave of soldiers sent out to bolster numbers following severe losses sustained on the Gallipoli Campaign.

William Button in Palestine, First World War

"29th November 1915

Dear Hilda,

Have been on the move again.  We left the Bay 22 Nov for here arriving on 27th, when I wrote to you from Hyudroo [unknown place name.]  I had just posted it when we had orders to go up and join the first Regiment boys.  Well up we went, had been up with them just eight days when Lord Kitchener came, then we had to come down here, [just as] well as there was a rough wind going that day, we had to stop a day.  They land and embark all troops by cargo as the only large boats that go up are the battleships.  We came so far on there on the SS Themistocles.

Under canvas and on the banks of the River Nile with the largest of the pyramids to watch over us, the Sphinx is about two miles away so if I can [I will] find a piece for Dot [Hilda's sister - a teacher], as I guess it will interest her class to see a piece of these.  I am afraid the RGH are somewhat knocked about, we left a lot in hospital.  There used to be a man to a horse, now it is three horses for each of us to look after.  I hear there is another lot on the way, at  least I hope so.

I expect by the time you receive this it will be Christmas, I shall be thinking of your good people at 61, and hoping you will have a good time.

I see by the papers, which by the way are three weeks old, that things are not so bad, could be better of course, anyway please tell me as much good news as you can, I have not had a letter or P.C [post card] since leaving England, we expect a train in some time this week, so I am looking forward to one from you, the paper is well marked by the YMCA, so please excuse it as I have not unpacked my kit bag, and my pen and ink is in there.  I have not been into town yet, we have to obtain a pass, then it is eight miles to go in the car so will forward you a card from there, it is Monday now so it will be Sunday [day unclear] before I shall be able to have a pass.  How is Fred, has he left for abroad yet or is he still at doing it in Gloucester?  The 7th Gloucester were at Lemcos [unknown place name] the same day as us, there were several I could remember having seen at home.

The food here is better than we expected, of course nothing like home, the worst complaint is the sand, when the wind blows it is impossible to see a few feet in front, just like a fog and gets everywhere, we eat it in fact if we stay here long there will be no desert left, we are on the border of the Libyan Desert and every morning about 6am, go for a ride about ten miles, see some catacombs, I do not know what they are for, just ask Miss Dot - she will know - I hope she is alright, still busy.

Well I shall be glad when this scrap is over, have not been out here long but when thinking of home it makes me wish I was in England but I am afraid it will be some time before I return, well it is time I had some supper so must cease.  Wishing you all a Happy Xmas and best of luck for the coming year, 

Kind regards to all, 

Yours Sincerely, Bill"

William and his horse, Baby

During active service, William and his horse Baby would have undertaken reconnaissance and aggressive patrolling of Turkish forward positions.  The British campaign to defend the Suez Canal was centred on the town of Romani, from where William may have taken part in battles, including the Battle of Beersheba.  We also know that during one battle, William was shot in the leg.  Towards the end of the war, William's expertise in the railways saw him operate locomotives for the British Army.  William survived the First World War, however his army record did not, and we are therefore unsure of his exact movements during his time in service.

Oh what a night!

Well if it's November then it must be another birthday.  Lizzie made plans for me this year, but had kept everything very closely under wraps for what seems like forever.  This week it all came to light, and after a birthday morning of a quick breakfast and a little present opening, it was off to Exeter to catch the 10.25 to London Waterloo.  A whirlwind of an afternoon later, and following dinner in a delightful Italian restaurant (where I had courgette flowers on my pizza,) it was off to the West End, to the Piccadilly Theatre for the outstanding show, Jersey Boys.  For anybody unfamiliar, this is the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, and their rise from down-and-out Belleville to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.  A journey of humour, emotion, and hit-after-hit being smashed off the stage by the best vocals I've ever witnessed at the theatre.  Sherry, Walk Like a Man, My Eyes Adored You, Working My Way Back to You... the list goes on, and the tunes stayed in our minds - and I dare say, our dreams - for the rest of the night.

This treat wasn't the end of our trip to the capital though.  After a night in a little hotel on Gower Street, we awoke to find ourselves in the middle of attractive, affluent Camden, a lovely area full of "real London" scenes - big red buses splashing through the puddles, suited workers on their way to the office, tourists picking through the pavements whilst shielding themselves from the elements with over-sized brollies.  We made for the corner of Gower and Torrington, to the warmth and comfort of the five-storey Waterstones, the stunning type of bookshop that you only get in London, and somewhere in which I could have lingered for days.  Of course, I couldn't pass by without making at least a couple of purchases - a beautifully illustrated volume on Greek Mythology, a book for Lizzie called The Fox and the Star and, what is essentially a children's book, entitled L is for London.  There's something about this particular book that simply grabbed me - It is reminiscent of those childhood days when I made my first faltering steps in London, and the hours spent afterwards, poring over the map with amazement and wonder.  This book, some 23 years after that, just encapsulates everything that is London for me.

Lovely books from London (the Timeline book bought later from Foyles)

L is for London

The rain never stopped as we made our way to Somerset House, destination the south wing, for the exhibition TinTin: Herge's Masterpiece.  The exhibition explored the man behind the great boy detective through a series of original cartoon strips, sketches, watercolours and finished artwork, not to mention a few fabulous models.  Herge's fascination with architecture was immediately apparent, his eye for detail unsurpassed, his genius beyond question.  It all culminated in a brilliant recreation of Marlinspike Hall, Captain Haddock's ancestral home (see Red Rackham's Treasure,) with silhouettes of some of Herge's most memorable characters seen at the windows.  Professor Calculus, Bianca Castafiore, Thomson (but not Thompson)...  As is often the case with Herge, it is the subtleties that make the greatest pleasure.

Marlinspike Hall

 With time on our hands, and no desire to travel far, we next made for Russell Square and the always-fascinating British Museum.  As everybody knows, the artefactual wonders contained within its walls are second-to-none, and every gallery feels like a joy and a privilege to peruse.  We spent some time with the Ancient Greeks and the Egyptians, before moving onto the Assyrians and Middle East, which acted as a poignant and timely reminder that such ancient treasures are currently being torn to shreds and smashed to dust in that part of the world.  The sadness and horror the world shares at such news only strengthens the importance of world-class museums such as the BM - they preserve not only artefacts, but our entire human story.

Assyrian attendant god, 810-800BC

Tomb stela, 11th Dynasty, Year 14 of Montuhotep II, c.2041BC

Deciding not to use the Tube, as we did, really gave the opportunity to piece together the different parts of London that always appear so disconnected in our minds.  From Tottenham Court Road to Covent Garden, Russell Square to Somerset House, central London is an easy and accessible (if wet and busy) walk that is far more interesting and enjoyable than watching the blackness zoom past the window.  Crossing the enormity of Waterloo Bridge, with its views of Parliament, the City, and the ever-present Thames fading soulfully into the increasing drizzle of the evening, I very much got the sense of a city rediscovered, the London I visited when I was only 9 or 10 years old, back at last after so many years of frustrating crowds, high prices and general exhaustion.  Maybe I'm starting to chill out now I'm just that bit older, and can see the city in a different way.  It could be because we rejected the Underground and avoided the crowds.  Or perhaps the reason for my most enjoyable trip to London - ever - lies in the love shown towards me, by the wonderful lady who secretly booked it all up, picked the show she knew I was craving to see, and arranged it around an exhibition on one of my favourite book series.  Tonight as I write this blog, I feel so happy, so lucky, and so loved - and really, what else could anybody want for their birthday?

Drizzly London

Peace for Paris

This blog stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the people of Paris today, and with lovers of peace and freedom everywhere.  

The Prayer of St Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

Oh divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console,

To be understood as to understand,

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Remembrance

Today we stop to pause and give our private thanks to all of those who fought and died in the armed forces.  Seven members of my family were involved, in some capacity, in the First World War.  Six survived their theatre of war - one was killed in action.  This blog is a tribute to all seven, in my thoughts today, along with the countless others who fought and died in that bloody conflict a century ago, and all wars since.  Cecil Major, William Button, Arthur Button, Tom Button, John Frank Turner, Walter Sillence, Frederick Sillence.  Remembered always for their service and sacrifice.

Poppies from a Battle-field

What where those red petals came?
Which burn their great, eternal flame?
Them from that place where fate was sealed,
Out yonder, on that battle-field.

And how got there, them crimson stars?
Where galloped once them brave hussars!
Seeds mingled with the blood of men,
What never made it 'ome again.

Them scarlet blooms, what gleam like ghosts,
Like tin-hat spectres, by their posts,
Or soldiers hidin’ in the trees,
What sway like spirits on the breeze.

I see a gunner; R.G.A.
A sapper on the railway,
A fresh-faced sergeant, Surrey-made,
Back ‘ome a grocer by ‘is trade

A young mechanic, oilin’ brakes,
Whose tunic now, a private makes,
An ‘orseman ridin’ 'cross the line,
In France, in Malta; Palestine.

I see infantry, rifles high,
An’ bay’netts pointin’ to the sky,
They charge, and pushin’ wave-on-wave…

I see a wreath laid on a grave.

What men were these what soldiered here?
What gave their lives – what paid so dear?
What scribed with history’s mighty quill,
Two words for us; “remember still.”

I see whence those red petals came,
Which burn their great, eternal flame,
A century on, this mem'ry sealed
By poppies from a battle-field.

I love our garden

Well, we've reached that time of year once more.  The chill in the air, the nights closing in, Monty Don announcing that next week's Gardeners' World is the final episode of the season.  It's mid-Autumn already, and gardens across the hemisphere are closing down, including here at Oak Tree Drive.

All, however, is not lost.  The gardener's work is never done, and planning is already well underway for next spring.  I'm finding bargains galore with a whole host of perennials, today picking up all the below plants for under ten pounds.  There's a big lavender, presumably reduced because its flowers have gone over and it is starting to look a little leggy (easy to remedy - simply cut back and allow to grow on again next spring.)  There's a dahlia Happy Days which has flowered and is now looking sorry for itself (why not lift the tuber, store over winter, and replant next April?)  There's a buddleia, which again has done its thing for this year (simply plant out, cut back, and let it grow!)  There's a littler patio rose Sweet Dreams (in perfect condition, we'll just nurture it over winter.)  And there's Juniperus chinensis 'Blue Alps', an evergreen shrub bought specifically to fill a gap, and heavily reduced.

Ten pound bargain - reduced perennials

A couple of weeks ago, I harvested my brilliant crop of outdoor tomatoes.  Apparently, blight is ripping through the outdoor tomato crop nationwide, but it obviously hasn't reached my plot, where I've had my best ever year.  Harvesting tomatoes always presents a dilemma for me - do I eat in salads and sandwiches, or preserve for the cold season ahead?  This year I decided to make tomato chutney - both the green and red type - which will extend that wonderful flavour to Christmas and beyond.  In fact, we'll still be eating it when the first crocus bulbs open next February, and the cycle starts anew once again.

Tomato harvest

As Autumn establishes itself with firm grip, so the wildlife responds.  There's been a marked change in garden life recently - the grasshoppers have all gone, as have most of the bees (a late bumble, settling on a white aster earlier today, was a rare and beautiful sight.)  I was very happy though, to discover a young slow worm slithering from leaf-to-leaf in my vegetable garden.  At only 10cm long, it was much smaller than my sightings earlier this year, and strongly suggests that slow worm breeding has been taking place on-site.  This delights me, as our gardening techniques have been so geared towards creatures just like this.  I bothered our newest tenant for a couple of minutes with my camera, before letting it escape to the shelter of a thyme plant.  I was left grinning from ear-to-ear - this sort of thing really does mean so much to me.

Young slow worm

Young slow worm

So here we are, mid-October and the garden shutting down for year.  Of course, there's plenty of boring, non-plant jobs to be doing over the winter (move the water butt, relocate some old paving stones...) but for the delightful side of gardening, that's going to be it for us until the new year roles around, and we are once again wading through snow drops, daffodils and vibrant blue hyacinths.  We'll catch up with all the bees, frogs, slow worms and butterflies then, and already, I cannot wait.  A year of hard work, lots of joy, a few set backs, but plenty to be thankful for as we reach this season of change, all of which makes me realise just how much I love our garden.

National Badger Day

The Badger in the spinney is the true king of this land.

All creatures are his tenants, though not all understand.

Didicoi red and roe-deer, gypsy foxes, romany otters - 

They squabble about their boundaries, but all of them are squatters.

Even the grandest farm-house, what is it but a camp

In the land where the singing Badger walks the woods with his hooded lamp?

A farmer's but a blowing seed with a flower of crops and herds.

His tractors and his combines are as airy as his words.

But the Badger's fort was dug when the whole land was one oak.

His face is his ancient coat of arms, and he wears the same grey cloak.

As if time had not passed at all, as if there were no such thing,

As if there were only the one night-kingdom and its Badger King.

Ted Hughes (extract from What is Truth)

Badger at dusk (source: The Ecologist)

The bridleway to Coffinswell

September is often a beautiful month, and here in South Devon, the season has offered us some of the year's best weather.  Cloudless blue skies, albeit with a little bite in the air, has prolonged the gardening season, and really encouraged us to get out and make the best of it, before the impending Autumn falls, and Winter's grip returns.  On a crisp and stunning Sunday morning, we left our front door and headed up into the Woods, destination Coffinswell, a little village a couple of miles away.

At the top of our little housing estate lies Ben Stedham's Wood, a sliver of woodland separating the estate from the back road to Torquay.  It's a lovely wild area and a little haven for wildlife - particularly, at this time of year, fungi.  I don't have much knowledge of mushrooms and toadstools, but their shapes and sizes fascinate me, and this year we have been especially blessed with sheer variety, noticing them both in our own garden, and elsewhere.

Ben Stedham's Wood

Fungi in the woods

The woodland gives way to a bridleway, from where the walker or rider can either head north towards the Teign Estuary, or south to Coffinswell.  Turning south, we pass hedgerows of ferns and young oaks, in which perfect spider webs have been weaved, shimmering in the sun.  Like fungus, I have noticed a proliferation in spiders this September, and webs straddle every space, crossing every path back in our garden.  

Perfect spider web

Lying just off the bridle path, a lesser-known archaeological site is a reminder of the area's ancient connections.  Milber Down Iron Age hillfort sits some 2,500 years old, once inhabited by people of the Dumnoni, the ancient British people who inhabited what is now Devon and Cornwall.  The hillfort itself is not easily distinguishable to the untrained eye, and could easily be overlooked as nothing more than a grazing site for sheep.  Aside from the gentle, overgrown ramparts, the site offers fabulous views over Newton Abbot, from which I spy many of my childhood haunts - Highweek church in the distance (we used to call the downs there the Mountains,) Decoy Lake, and even Seale-Hayne College, now part of the Dame Hannah Rogers Trust - all overshadowed by the omnipresent moors.  If ever one view could encapsulate the word home, then this is surely it for me.

Milber Down in Hutchinson's Diaries, 1853.  Source: Devon.gov.uk

Newton Abbot

Back on the bridleway, we seem to move through several landscapes at some pace.  Woodland gives way to a view of the South Devon link road, under-construction and a big talking point in the town.  Further along still, we overlook a quarry, before suddenly finding ourselves once again back in the middle of the countryside, with rolling green fields ushering us ever closer to the Coffinswell village.  I haven't been to Coffinswell for a number of years, and certainly don't remember it being so pretty.  Thatched cottages and lovely little gardens greet us, and we nose over the low walls with interest to see what the locals are growing.  My favourite garden, although I had not the nerve to so audaciously take a photo, took pride in two enormous purple echiums, no doubt bought from Plant World just up the road, where they are grown each summer (and I fully intend to get my own, next year.)

Beautiful cottage in Coffinswell

Another Coffinswell dwelling

The end point of our little walk is the Linny, the lovely village inn dating from the 14th century.  A very happy welcome within, a drink on an outside table, soaking up the sun and country atmosphere, a reminder to me that when the world is in this sort of mood, there really is nowhere else I'd ever wish to be.

The Linny, Coffinswell

A lovely front garden in Coffinswell

A year in TQ12

Unbelievable though it is, we're celebrating the first anniversary of the move into our own house.  We've certainly been on a journey in the last twelve months, making the house into our very own home, somewhere we want to spend our time, and a perfect place to relax and enjoy.  Since September 2014, we've installed a new bathroom and boiler, put a new door on the garage, had a new TV aerial installed, decorated all-but-one of our rooms, built several bookshelves, tables, cabinets and a sideboard, laid insulation down in the loft, and hung some 30 pictures on various walls.  In the garden, meanwhile, we're slowly transforming the space into a wildlife-friendly area for year-round enjoyment, and thoroughly relishing the challenge.  No more words from me today, but here's a few before-and-after shots that sum up what we've spent the majority of our time (and money!) on this year:

September harvest

It's suddenly September, and that can only mean one thing in our household - blackberry picking.  Wandering the lanes hunting for blackberries is something of a tradition for us, and is always accompanied by that certain earthy feeling that the year is growing old, that summer is on the wane, and that autumn is being heralded in with each and every berry that hits the pot.  The plump, ripened berries are numerous in the hedgerows this year, so we picked just enough for Lizzie to make one of her trademark crumbles - just add the apples from our garden, and nothing could taste better.

Lizzie picking blackberries in the September sunshine

Back onsite, autumn is slowly taking its hold and the garden is slowly maturing into Keats' season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.  All but the hardiest of grasshoppers have ceased their chirping, the birdsong is low, and all around the wildlife is either reaching the conclusion of its lifecycle, or else preparing to overwinter.  Autumn colour has arrived in the form of the Michaelmas daisy and other aster varieties, plants which have grown ceaselessly throughout the spring and summer months, picking their flowering time perfectly to extend the gardening season another few weeks, and of course providing essential nectar to the bees in this relatively sparse time.

The Michaelmas daisy

A bee on the aster Anneke

A late grasshopper

Elsewhere, and following on from Monty Don's recommendations of Gardeners' World, we've invested in numerous cyclamens to bring some winter colour to our shady areas.  Word on the internet is that a good cyclamen will flower right through winter and into the following spring, and whilst I won't quite be expecting that, it's another source of nectar for late-flying bees, and will add some much appreciated winter colour at a time when the rest of the garden is tucking down.

Cyclamens adding winter colour in the garden shade

It's amazing to think that only a few weeks ago, I was bemoaning my tomato crop and exclaiming that this is the last time I will ever grow tomatoes.  The stumpy little plants, puny green fruits and lack of sunshine had somewhat dashed my spirits until, out of nowhere, came great trusses of plump scarlet fruits.  Suddenly I am picking tomatoes daily, and have probably sixty or seventy fruits still ripening on the vine.  It has made me rethink my rethink (maybe I will grow them next year after all...)  Similarly, after a shaky start back in late spring, my cucumbers have been a magnificent performer (the variety, Marketmore, is one to remember) and there is a real delight to stepping outside with a knife, and returning to the kitchen with a handful of crisp, fresh salad.

Tomatoes ripening on the vine

Successful cucumbers

Back in the kitchen, the autumn night drawing in with a slight chill, Lizzie tends to her famous blackberry and apple crumble, into which I've thrown some raspberries from my autumn-fruiting canes.  It's the greatest possible celebration of this time of year - a time of year that always moves me, a time for reflection on the summer past, but also an opportunity to look forwards to another phase in the never-ending cycle of gardening.

Delicious autumn crumble

A plateful of harvest