Bar cart style

We've gone a bit tropical here at Oak Tree.  Perhaps it's a throwback to honeymoon, or maybe just a lock-down induced desire to get away, but as I sink back into the armchair, I can almost hear the steel drums being carried on a warm breeze, the palms swaying gently (next door genuinely has a tall one, you know!) and the melodic crashing of the ocean on the far-off reef's edge.  Alright, maybe that's not all within earshot, but the weather outside is certainly tropical at the moment, so I'll do my best to match it with the first iteration of my brand new bar cart.  It certainly puts me in the mood for a nice rum - what do you think?

Treasures of Life

I've spent the day cleaning and sorting out my pad!  For me, this is always a refreshing activity as it give me the opportunity to clear out the rubbish that inevitably collects during the course of my everyday life - the pile of magazines that I read months ago, the clothes with holes in that I've been keeping out of sentiment.

It's also a great activity for reassessing the things that you really do want to keep.  My room is crammed full of objects that have great personal value, and although they're mostly of little monetary worth, to me they each have a story, a link to my life and the things I have done.  They're all around me as I type, so here are ten of the best...

1. 1958 Penguin Books copy of The Great Gatsby

This is one of my most recent acquisitions and was passed on to me by Lizzie's mum, who was having her own clear-out.  I have been trying to get my hands on the older Penguin editions of my favourite books (to no great success), so this is a real gem to me, and now sits proudly on my bookshelf with my other Fitzgerald novels.  One of my favourite books, from my favourite author.

2.  Childhood teddy bears

These two guys have been around my whole life, making them my oldest friends!  The panda was given me by my grandma when I was very young, whilst the tartan bear was given to me as a replacement for another bear that I dropped from my pushchair one careless day in town.  If they were alive, they'd know me better than anyone, and if they could talk...

3.  German smoker man

I call this guy Herman.  He comes from a wonderful Munich shop called Max Krug, purveyors of traditional German and Black Forest souvenirs.  I bought him when I was inter-railing in 2008, being one of the few things in the shop I could afford.  What really attracted me to him was his sales tray, beer and gingerbread men.  I was so happy with my purchase that the I almost forgot I had paid with a 50 euro note... The lady behind the tills had to chase me down the street to give me my change!

4.  Beethoven

Another find whilst I was inter-railing, Beethoven entered my life when I was in Barcelona.  I was staying in a hostel just off La Rambla, home of the Liceu opera house.  Their shop window display was interesting, and when I stopped to look in it, this little guy was staring back at me.  The best thing about Beethoven (except his cuffs, tails and cravat) is the key on his back - wind it up, and he plays a lovely rendition of Moonlight Sonata.

5.  The Savoy Cocktail Book

The greatest book ever written on the subject of cocktails was Harry Craddock's 1930 masterpiece.  Craddock, the chief barman of the Savoy Hotel, created cocktails for every occasion.  "But where, Oh, where is the book that gives the earnest student all?  Every beautiful and perfect Wine, each with its own special and perfect occasion, and every cocktail known?" asks Craddock.  "We searched, and found it not, so thought it as well to sit down and get it put together."

Of course, the 1930s original would be impossible to find nowadays, but I was given this (rare enough!) facsimile by my friend Tristan, on my 25th birthday.  It's the only cocktail book I'll ever need.

 6.  Lakota-Sioux Bison

In the summer of 2004, I was part of a university group which travelled to South Dakota for an archaeological dig.  We were examining a Native American village that had been abandoned about 1,000 years ago.  The dig was open to the public and had an accompanying museum and shop, in which all the products had been handcrafted by Native American people.  Since I had been digging up ancient bison bones for nearly a month, I bought this little wooden bison to hang in my room.  Nine years later, it is still here.

7.  Treasure Island

Aside from the remarkable tale of piracy, this book is one of my biggest treasures because it was awarded to my grandma by Wolborough Senior School, Newton Abbot, at Christmas 1937 for an essay she wrote on Temperance.  She donated it to my book collection a few years ago, and I love nothing more than flicking through its pages, smelling its musty book smell, and enjoying its lovely illustrations.

8.  Buffalo Sabres pennants

In a country where ice hockey memorabilia is scarce, these two pennants of my favourite hockey team seem all-the-more special.  I bought the smaller of the two in a wonderful sports shop in Banff, Canada, last year.  The longer one was given to me on my last birthday by Lizzie.  How she went about finding it, I still don't know, but it was a wonderful surprise when I ripped off the wrapping paper!

 9.  Rue de Saintonge street sign

I spotted this genuine Parisian street sign on eBay four years ago and immediately loved the idea of having piece of the historic city in my room.  It fell into its previous owner's hands after it was replaced by a newer sign, and now sits happily (if not entirely well-fitting) on the end of my shelves.

A year after I bought it, I made my second visit to Paris and went off in search of Rue de Saintonge.  As it turns out, it's a tiny little street in the Les Halles district, home to apartments and one or two shops.  Hardly a memorable road, it nonetheless has acquired meaning to me.

 10.  Nutcracker

Anybody who knows me will know I'm a collector of nutcrackers.  Most of the nutcrackers in my collection are only about a foot tall, and only come out at Christmas.  This guy, who I call Wilhelm, stands at about four foot, and has acquired a year-round presence in the corner of my room.  My dad gave me Wilhelm as a birthday present a couple of years ago, after buying him from a shop in Lincoln.  Wilhelm was not actually for sale at the time, but was being used as a Christmas display!

So there you have it - ten treasures of my life, from my room.  They're certainly not the only things I could have included here, but they perhaps best represent the myriad objects I have acquired over the years.  Everything has a story to tell - it could be the place it was made or bought, the weird and wonderful way it was acquired, or simply the fact that it has become an intrinsic part of your life.  So why not cast your eye around your own room and see what stories you can find...

Avoiding the Venetian Rain

I never expected the Venetian weather to feel so familiar, as Lizzie and I browse around the tourist shops of the Rialto on our second morning in the city. Outside, the rain is pelting and the wind has a bite to it, just like an Autumn day in Britain, and a substantial contrast to the day before.  In truth, a day like this can be no fun in Venice - outdoor activities become a chore, whilst indoor attractions are flooded with tourists, each one with the same plan to avoid the rain. From the Rialto, we hastily make for the church of San Polo and seek shelter inside.  San Polo is part of the Chorus Pass scheme, a good value discount card incorporating seventeen of the city's churches.  We decide to buy the passes, and quickly make our money back through visiting many of the area's religious buildings.  This ticks all my boxes; the churches are historic, they're a fascinating and intrinsic part of Venice's story, they are free from tour groups, and they provide us with regular breaks from the wild weather.  In the course of the morning, we visit San Polo, San Roco, Santa Maria Gloriosa Dei Frari, San Giacomo dell'Orio and San Stae, stopping in a cafe opposite the Frari for a bowl of pasta and a drink.  It is here that I note, with some humour, Lizzie's incorrect coffee order (I think she ordered an Americano, but got as espresso), whilst I choose a Coca Cola, understood in practically every language in the world.  The pasta comes recommended by the old Italian couple on the next table, whose smiles and gesturing in our direction suggests they are very satisfied with their meal.  The only other people in the cafe are a middle-aged English couple, who order their coffees in English and, it has to be said, get exactly what they ask for.  Don't worry Lizzie; at least you made the effort. ;-)

The church of San Polo

Lizzie enjoys her accidental espresso

The clouds break by the time we move again, although there is still a dampness in the air, and we decide to visit the recently-restored Natural History Museum.  Now, those who know me will know how much I enjoy a good museum, and here is one of the best.  The collection starts with prehistoric fossils and dinosaur skeletons, to taxonomy, minerals, and even a weird-and-wonderful section including an albino deer.  Even better, we have the place almost entirely to ourselves, with just one other couple, who seem to scurry around in a mad dash.  Whenever the security personnel disappear, I snap away happily with my camera, although eventually the same man appears in each room we enter, and the game is up.  Nonetheless, the museum presents a fabulous collection, well worth the admission price, and one of the unexpected finds of our trip.

Scenes from the Natural History Museum

Back at the Rialto, which is by now dripping dry in the late afternoon sun, we explore some more shops and discover the charming little church San Giacomo di Rialto, certainly one of the stranger-looking churches from outside, but cosily beautiful within.  On the Rialto bridge, which is lined with more tourist shops, I take a shine to an FBC Unione Venezia football shirt, but manage to resist.  The Rialto Bridge is undoubtedly the tackiest part of Venice, and one can find a lot of tat in some of the shops, but it is generally more low-key than many other tourist centres I have been to.  Besides, who can resist a rocking plastic gondola, or a glittery carnival mask?

The church of San Giacomo di Rialto

Inside San Giacomo di Rialto

The Rialto Bridge

The Grand Canal from the Rialto Bridge

 Changed, dried, and ready to face the world again, we make the short journey from our hotel across one bridge, to Tarnowska's, an American bar with an extensive cocktail menu.  The evening is spent in fine fashion, and I can't help but feel a little bit like Earnest Hemingway sipping on my Screwdriver.  Lizzie, meanwhile, orders a Bellini, but they're all out of peach, so she settles for a Spritz made with the Italian liquor Aperol.  The bar is a classy but inexpensive place, with colourful staff and a very anglophone clientele, and there is talk of football, and the upcoming European Champions League final, which the bar is screening in a couple of days time.  We recline, relax, talk about our day and soak up all the atmosphere, before wandering merrily back to our hotel, enjoying the sheer infectiousness of Venice.

An evening in Tarnowska's