Father's Day, 21 June 2015: Hero, Family of the Year

"...So let me go
I don't wanna be your hero
I don't wanna be a big man
I just wanna fight with everyone else

Your masquerade
I don't wanna be a part of your parade
Everyone deserves a chance to
Walk with everyone else..."

Friday Five: Things to Buy This Weekend

 

1. Couple of large-ish Long Toms for my olive trees, currently wintering out in the glasshouse;

 

2.  Half a dozen large-ish terracotta pots for my tree saplings, currently wintering out on the terrace steps;

 

3.  Bags of charcoal and plenty of firelighters; if we're to have a warm weekend with Cs into the mid-teens, let's get cooking;

 

4.  Even more packets of seeds, specifically mini cucumbers so I can recreate my Jerusalem breakfasts...

 

5.  Another box of purple latex gloves; one must at least attempt to be stylish when sowing one's seeds.

 

Valentine's Day 2014: The Little Land of Me

 

I came across Naomi Johnson, creator of these gorgeous little artworks at her workplace last year. She is as lovely as her creations.  If only you saw her range of Christmas decorations, each one handmade to Naomi's meticulous standards. Guess the price of the red felt heart above; £3.00.

 

And this perky little key ring; £1.00.  Yes really, a pound! I've ordered several for little stocking fillers ready for next Christmas.

But the green wreath above is my favourite decorative item this spring, and is going to feature heavily in my Easter decorations in the weeks to come. 9cm diameter an absolute steal at £2.00.  Two pounds!

 

http://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/TheLittleLandOfMe?ref=l2-shopheader-name

 

If we are to reflate our economy, we must support young, skilled British designers like Naomi.  For as William Morris so perfectly stated; "If you want a golden rule that will fit everybody... Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful."

"A Life Lived in Perpetual Peril Can be Exhilarating..."

I'm freezing, and have taken to wearing a cashmere sweater and tomato red jeggings from Marks just to get through the day.  I did however, decide to leave my pashmina in the  car at Sainsbury's, as I thought that was just overdoing it when everyone else was in shorts and tee-shirts.  It always takes me a couple of days to acclimatise when I return from (and go to) the Middle East.

 

Hot, hot sun and bright blue skies. Sunnies and Factor 50. Flip-flops and bottled water in the car.

 

Olive trees full with fruit and the stony, weed-free understory.

 

Simply wonderful.

Bread & Fish Roasted Over Charcoal

Pile the barbeque and set light. 
When coals white and ready to transform words into food, slip whole fish, cleaned and gutted, oiled and thymed, onto charcoal fire and roast gently.
Serve with bread you bought at 5am that morning, and consider the nature of friendship and overwhelming mercy.  
Dishes of chermoula, olive oil and za'atar optional.

Next Month in The Holy Land: Palestinian Olive Oil

 

And given the appalling expense of Palestinian olive oil in the UK, it can't come a moment too soon!

Quercus petraea: Sessile Oak

I woke myself up this morning with a nightmare.  It's one I've dreamt before; no doubt I'll dream it again.  I'm strangling someone but with insufficient conviction.  I hauled my sorry a***, racked with a filthy head cold, sore throat and aching ankles out of bed and made a cup of tea and a couple of maxi-flu paracetamols.  An hour or two later and I'm feeling perky and ready for a longish walk and some fresh air.

 

Driving down the A38 listening to Classic FM on the way to the National Arboretum and the weather is cold and blowy with occasional snow flurries.  Perfect Easter Bank Holiday Monday weather.  And then this came on the radio ---->

 

 

And we walked all through the trees and as always here, found new memorials and plaques of remembrance. One tree on the outer edge of the Merchant Navy Convoy Memorial was dedicated to a teenager, a little naval apprentice who spent his 18th birthday floating on a raft after his vessel was bombed, and where he died 10 days later. 

This memorial is densely planted with 2,535 Sessile Oaks representing every British flagged merchant vessel lost to enemy action during the Second World War.  The Sessile Oak, Quercus petraea, is native to Great Britain and mid-Europe. Significant botanical differences with English Oak include the stalked leaves, and the stalkless (sessile) acorns. It is found more frequently than English Oak in upland areas that have a higher rainfall, but also the lighter soils, which it prefers.  The Royal Navy was once said to be founded on “Hearts of Oak” – a reference to the stoic nature of British seaman.

Caudwell's Mill In Light Snow

I'm thinking cassoulet.  What about you?

Cerinthe Major Purpurescens at Blakesley Hall

 

I have coveted these beauties since I saw a stall holder at Bakewell farmers' market including them in her hand-tied garden flower bouquets.  Oh wow, I thought, why haven't I thought to grow these flowers.  Growing them couldn't be simpler, you just throw the seeds into the soil sometime round about mid to late spring, cover lightly then wait until they flower in earlyish summer.  And, as these little fellows are prolific self-seeders, you'll have plenty in your borders next year.  They'll need a bit of protection over a hard winter, given that they are Mediterranean evergreens, but these glaucous leafed delights are worth even this little bit of effort, especially if you treat them as a hardy annual.

The Cerinthe here were covered in bees, even in October, so you'll be giving your local bee colony an autumn treat if you get a bush or two into your garden.

 

The only difficulty I've had with Cerinthe is getting hold of the seeds in the first place.  You'll have to shop online (no great hardship), but if we are as a nation and a global community supposed to be taking action to reverse the global decline in bee colonies, it might help to shift these seeds into the budget range at B&Q.

 

 

And don't forget, December's farmers' market is held a week early for Christmas, on Saturday 22 December.  See you there.

First Sunday of Advent 2012

It's not that I've been slackering about for the better part of this year; quite the contrary.  I've spent most of this year with clients, my new favourite clients in particular. 

 

 

Here we are at the end of the year / start of the new year and we've restored huge tracts of their walled kitchen garden.  In the next month or so I want to make a start on a new orchard.

 

 This isn't their house - theirs is Victorian, this is Tudor; Blakesley Hall, a timber-framed house built in 1590 by Richard Smalbroke, a member of one of Birmingham’s leading merchant families.  I dropped in earlier this autumn on the way to or from Birmingham airport with the Irish rellies.  I rather like the juxtaposition of perfectly preserved and restored Tudor buildings, underneath the flight path of a major international airport...  Castle Bromwich Hall Gardens is as bad! 



 

One of the lovely young graduates working at Blakesley Hall has an Etsy shop, selling lovely, lovely, gorgeous things, and when she gets the mice-shaped Christmas tree hangings on there, I'm snapping the lot up.  Click on into her shop TheLittleLandOfMe and check for yourself!

The Slacker Diaries: The Prequel

What beggars belief is that I have the effrontery to finally post a post...  backdates to follow...

On The Inevitabilty Of The Channel Tunnel

"I don't know why I was surprised.  You can't spend ever increasing amounts of time exploring the south coast and not at some point expect to hear the words, "Shall we nip across to France?"
 

35 minutes.  35 MINUTES!  And the carriage insides really do look like London Underground carriages, although mercifully without that oik that eats his breakfast cereal on the early London train.  And you just drive off, through acres of brilliantly lit apron and straight onto the A16 then the A26 for Lens.  How cool is that?

Why Lens?  It's where the rellies are commemorated, of course!"

And yes, rather like tomorrow's post, this post was partly composed at my desk until the phone rang, I answered, and the rest, as they say, is history.

 

How To Travel With Undergraduates

Drafted in 2010:
There comes a moment when rebellion bursts through whatever carefully laid plans you think you've made; unmissable in its incendiary effects. The seeds of that rebellion, however, are barely perceptible and can pass you by unnoticed. Not by this mother.

Last summer the ungrateful wretches spent a small fortune and most of their waking hours texting, phoning and emailing their sweethearts back in England. This year, I booked the four of them onto flights for a fortnight's holiday, printed out their tickets then said "Cheerio!" as I dropped them off at Departures. They flew into Dinard and got a taxi to our house in France, got a bit of shopping in and sorted out the bedding. This gave me the rest of that day free to pootle on down to Portsmouth, careering right on down the Newbury by-pass (remember the horrific suicide dash across Robin Hood roundabout in those pre-by-pass days?) a lovely picnic lunch on the shingle beach at Portsmouth followed by a quick tour of the junk shops in Southsea looking for pretty blue and white plates to add to my collection. Sigh...

A Solero and a short drive to the Cross Channel port and on we go, Brittany Ferries at its finest.  Find the cabin, draw back the curtains and explore said cabin. (I don't know why I do this; it's always the same and there really aren't any hidden cabinets or secret hideaway places in a Brittany Ferries cabin!) Throw the bags onto the berth and straight back out to the restaurant for the first meal in France, usually starting with a salade Nicoise and a glass of wine.

"Is this Heaven?"
"No.  It's Iowa."

Robert Marnock Garden Sheffield

Oh beautiful hellebores, my heart belongs to you.

Arum Italicum: Lords & Ladies

Sheffield Botanical Gardens in early May.

Sheffield Botanical Gardens 2

Doesn't that purple leaved hazel look just fabulous against the muted colours of the spring bulbs and Brunnera macrophylla Jack Frost?

Sheffield Botanical Gardens 1

On Winter Gardening & Bone Idleness

One of my greatest failings is Bone Idleness.  That and a refusal to hire any woman who at interview blathers on about her addiction to chocolate and buying shoes.  I always collect my interviewees from reception; that way I can work the conversation round to these two deal breakers.  Never fails.  I've yet to recruit a female balloon head. 

I've loads of photos of my perfect, beautiful, wonderful kitchen garden, and stacks more of all the lovely places I've visited over the winter, including some corkers from Canterbury, (incidentally my New Favourite Place).  I just can't be bothered to catalogue, upload and add cheery dialogue to some much needed posts.  Some of my photos are simply breathtaking, especially those taken in the rain during November.  Since discovering both the zoom and the macro/super macro button on my camera, there's been no stopping me.  Now if I can only summon up the energy to download and work through my Photoshop disc, I'll be well away. 

I was over at Chatsworth  last year, and have some stunners from the kitchen garden there.  They call it a kitchen garden, but really its Horticultural Envy writ large.  What do you think?

Oh squeaky green brassicas, my heart belongs to you.