It was quite a day

Not to mention the night before…

I was in Brighton, with 5000 or so of my closest friends.  The WI were in town and on Friday night, there was a lively mix of weekenders, Hen and Stag dos and us. 

Although Brighton is a seaside town, it’s not your average seaside.  For a start, the beach was pretty busy, but look.  No families, no beachwear or deckchairs here.  Strange.

We had booked to join in the fun of a “fringe event”: The Brighton Belles WI had invited us to take part in “not your average Brighton tour” on Friday night and at 6 o’clock, we assembled at the Pier.

We sorted ourselves into teams, gathered a map and a local guide (or two) and set off in search of “treasure” – a set of photographs of specific things in specific places.  I posted the results in a Facebook album and have giggled at the memory of certain situations! 

You’ll know that I don’t post (recognisable) pictures of people here on my blog so I’ll leave the fun (and Nigel’s legs) to your imagination.  Suffice to say that we saw the sights and had a great time!

The evening finished in the North Lanes Brewhouse, where a table and a bottle of red were waiting with our name on!

It was a little noisy for the likes of us, so we decided to move on in search of something to eat.  The original Bills was not so far away, so we headed in that direction and though it was good, I missed the old style abundance, now it’s become a rather more corporate affair.

On Saturday morning, we were eager to find our places and get the day started at the Brighton Centre.

Our 101st year got off to a cracking start with the usual Jerusalem, experienced by yours truly sitting in the second row, thanks to a VIP invitation this year (ooooo!)

There was the usual lively mix of thoughtful (and passionate, at times) debate and excellent speakers.  In the morning, Rona Fairhead, Chairman of the BBC Trust spoke remarkably well, impressing me with her thoughts and leaving me with the distinct impression that the BBC is in good hands for the next four years at least.  The afternoon speaker was Baroness Da Souza (above), Speaker for the House of Lords.  She too was an impressive speaker but possibly rather less entertaining.  The afternoon slot is a challenge too, being right after lunch, but there was no way I could fall asleep, sitting where I was!

After rousing choruses of Happy Birthday, Your Majesty and a Proms-style singalong, the anthems were sung and it was time to go our separate ways again.

See you in Liverpool next year, girls!

Old or new?

Sorry for continuing that particular meme, but as I was falling asleep last night, my mind was reviewing the day’s activity and I found the events classified nicely.

A Bank Holiday Weekend approached and with no particular plans and no essential shopping to be done, a sunny Saturday beckoned and offered all kinds of options.  What shall we do?  My Hero came up with a suggestion along with my early morning tea, “How about Compton Verney?  There’s a Shakespeare exhibition on there right now”.  OK, so Shakespeare isn’t something which would normally inspire me, but safe in the knowledge that there would undoubtedly be something of interest there, we set off.

(caption: RSC prop – throne used by various kinds in a number of RSC productions)

No photographs allowed in the galleries, so I’ll simply link to the main website, a description of the exhibits here (almost word for word from the catalogue) and this review which accurately describes our thoughts and experience of what we both thought was a spectacular exhibition.  From the minute we stepped inside we appreciated the multi-sensory approach.  I’d spotted the Farrow and Ball colour swatches on the wall already, wondering the significance of such a thing before realising that the innovative exhibition design was all part of the show.  I realised that we were walking on creaky boards in that first “Tempest” room, without making the connection to the deck of a ship and sadly, I didn’t spot the tide mark mentioned in the review. 

(caption: RSC prop – David Tennant’s chair from 2013 production of Richard 11)

But once in the groove, we were captivated by the scene-setting, curious about the designer’s thinking and would have appreciated more background to the show to read and reflect upon later.  Still, the capable and ever-enthusiastic Compton Verney staff are always on hand to offer insight and interesting detail and on more than one occasion, we enjoyed a lively conversation.

(caption: RSC prop – net from 2006 production of The Tempest)

Highlights for me include the installation “Ophelia’s Ghost”, a life-sized projection into a pool of water, eerily lit and complete with bubbles!  I liked the atmospheric setting for Macbeth, with aluminium walls, spooky lighting and a strange chill in the air, peculiar to that small corner.  But most of all, I really loved the multi-sensory approach, with varied soundscapes (including the amazing performance poet, Kate Tempest, rapping her RSC commissioned What we came after, inspired by The Tempest) the rich colour palettes and atmospheric lighting which induced mood changes and brought the theatre into the gallery.  Very clever indeed!

Another, supplementary exhibit was of incredible etchings and prints from John Boydell’s Shakespeare Gallery which opened in 1789. Fascinating, but by then, I was getting hungry (and I still had to visit my favourite Shang dynasty vessel in the Chinese gallery, too)

The props in the photos above, by the way, were taken in the Compton Verney shop, where a few highlighted accessories from the RSC prop box proved to be conversation points!

So after a spot of lunch, what’s to do?  Go home or go somewhere else?  A signpost at the first roundabout gave the answer.  Charlecote Park, 4 miles.

I’ve written here recently about how the National Trust is changing.  How a fresh outlook is being brought into the properties, enhancing the visitor experience and increasing the accessibility in all senses of the word.  I’ve wondered about this and though I can hear the words “dumbing down” somewhere in the background our recent experiences at Hardwick Hall and Upton House have proved the effectiveness of this approach. 

So first impressions at Charlecote were good.  Here we were in the gatehouse, taking in the background of the Lucy family and looking forward to learning more inside.

It appeared the house was “set” in 1845, when the Lucys had just returned from their Grand Tour (which probably didn’t include New York) and brought back a few decorative souvenirs, probably not including these cushions!)

One of the first rooms to visit is the Dining Room, where in good old National Trust tradition, the table is set and roped off.  There’s little or no explanation of what’s going on, but there in the window is an altogether simpler, small table set with a few things.

Here is a somewhat half-hearted attempt to recreate “Mrs Beeton’s Dinner for 10 Guests Dining in May”.  Was this in 1845?  Who knows?

Beyond a short description of each of the (four) people sitting at the table, there’s no further background or information but there is a bowl of wine gums as a reward for getting this far.

Lacking the motivation to spend the whole afternoon “discovering the further treasures within the walls”, we stepped back into the sunshine and made our way around to the gardens.

On such a glorious afternoon, there was no better place to be.

Except at home, perhaps

I never met a flapjack I didn’t like

and I don’t buy bunches of mixed flowers either.  These are lovely, though, aren’t they?

We had a day out yesterday, driving down to Somerset for lunch.  We had to get the parking money purse out quick, though, when we suddenly found ourselves needing to pay a toll to cross the bridge.  The list of charges was many and varied but thankfully, there was a simplified version just along the way.

We were heading for Bruton and finding ourselves with plenty of time, decided to take a look at what was going on at Hauser and Wirth.

We found the exhibition of Subodh Gupta’s work “Invisible Reality” especially interesting, since our priority on arrival had been to head straight for the loo.  Bypassing the information desk, we began to view the exhibits in reverse without the benefit of notes and as a result, though we did indeed look more closely, we had no idea what we were looking at!

Pots and pans, certainly, but it was good to find out the background later!

I especially liked the series of crushed pots and pans with sarees embedded in the block and as we examined the individual pieces, we were distracted…

There is something special about coming across familiar faces in unexpected places and looking up to see our sweet Californian friends Mary and Diana there in the gallery beside us was a joy!  Of course, it wasn’t that much of a coincidence: We’d arranged to meet them for lunch at the Chapel later but to bump into them here was even better.  Hugs all round then and who cares about the art…let’s catch up on the goss!

Well, we did look at more art on our way out…

Sadly, they were only passing through, so it was a non-stop chatter kind of lunch and a couple of hours later, we drove off in opposite directions – they were heading for Heathrow, we were going home.

“See you in Charleston!” 

As for the first ever flapjack I didn’t like.  Well, serves me right for buying a mix, even if it was on special offer. 

Grumpy?

Hopping around the country, working here and there, I gather ideas along the way.  Whilst In Yorkshire a couple of weeks ago, I came across these.

Well, I’ll bet you’d have wanted a closer look at that pot too!  And then, having taken a closer look and tried to figure out how it was made (and failed), you’d have taken down the details from the ladies who’d been to the class and decided to have a go yourself, wouldn’t you?

Which is how I came to be in the garden centre this morning, buying a couple of plants because my “starter kit” came the other day and I’m looking forward to having a go.  But oh my, what a collection of sour faced people were there!  I know, it was a chilly day.  It had even tried to snow a little on the way there.    Enough reason to be miserable?  I don’t think so!

We were in Cambridge for a couple of days last week, remembering when we drove there at least six times a year at the start and end of each term, taking Edward and his belongings down this small drive into Peterhouse to a room with his name above the door.

For a few hours, we were proud parents again.  That’s not to say we aren’t always proud parents, of course, but it was especially lovely to revisit those days and spend a while “remembering that time when…”

Though I was teaching at the Cambridge WI office in Girton all day, we enjoyed a sunny afternoon in the city, musing over what had changed and what hadn’t, for it’s ten years or so since we’d been here.

We’d forgotten the bikes.  Not so much those parked here and there and chained to every railing and cycle park, but those being ridden rather fast, on the pavement and the wrong way up a street, catching us unawares.

I’d forgotten – or perhaps never really noticed – the number of people standing around on the streets smoking as well.  And those groups of youngsters from language schools!  On one corner, I stood and waited for them to pass, determined I was not going to step out into the road because one bunch was completely unaware of anyone else around them. 

Maybe I was the sour faced, miserable old woman on that occasion, then?  There’s no doubt that we were probably twice the average age of most people in town that afternoon and I’ll admit, I did let a couple of small things get to me.  But standing there on Kings Parade, we couldn’t help but count our blessings and thank goodness for bright young things, for sunny afternoons and happy memories, for no longer having to worry about examinations and suchlike but most immediately that afternoon, for Heffers bookshop!

Life is too short to be grumpy.

Arbella and Evelyn

I’m always interested in how information is communicated.  I suppose, in some ways you could say I’m more than just interested since it’s more or less what I do for a living.  Being a visual kind of person and one of those who can’t see words of any kind without reading them, I found our visit to Hardwick Hall last week particularly fascinating.

It’s another of those places we’ve driven by hundreds of times, but always on our way to somewhere else and never bothering to stop.  But on our way home from Yorkshire, it was the perfect place to spend a few hours.

Though we’d always associated Hardwick Hall with Bess of Hardwick, when we arrived, it was clear that the focus was a little wider.  In fact, we found Bess was given a mere cameo role in the story of the Hall, because the two exhibitions right now tell the stories of Arbella and Evelyn, two ladies about whom we had no idea. 

The first person we “met” was Arbella, The Lost Queen.

My first reaction was of slight irritation, since there appears to be a current inclination to hang all kinds of heritage upon the stories of lonely young women (think Sissi, Georgiana, Marie Antoinette and, I suppose, she who may have initiated the trend: Diana)  It’s a bit of a safe route to take: there are probably oodles of tales to be told about the overlooked women in wealthy and powerful families and I think it’s hard to avoid the cliché.  However, we soon became fascinated by Arbella’s story and though my Hero was into the historical references, it was the means of presentation that caught my eye.

The initial clue to what was to come was in the very first room where pieces of paper “flew” over our heads with a question:

Which adjective best described Arbella?  Wilful? Deceitful? Lovable? Unfortunate?  The answer was probably all of the (literally) above.

The historical facts were presented in bite sized chunks in an assortment of frames on one wall.  Though I can’t say I read every one, I paid particular attention to the story of Elizabeth 1, the Earl of Essex and William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, because we were going to the opera that evening and Roberto Devereux was on the programme and I knew nothing!  Those short paragraphs were perfect to capture my attention, because I am no historian.

But yes, I will read any words placed in front of me, especially if they are concerned with fabrics and textiles of some kind and are presented in an eye catching setting.  Like on a fabric hanging.

Or on a flight of steps.

(My hero and I had a discussion about which way around these should be placed – I stood at the bottom and read from the top; he read individual steps as he went and felt they’d be better ordered from bottom to top!)

It was hard to know where to look, such were the riches on every wall.  I’ve never seen so many tapestries in a single building before!

Even the walls which could not practically be covered by tapestries were furnished with interesting and attractive alternatives.

By now, though, we were getting quite a good picture of Arbella.

I still felt the need to go and read every cushion though.

Each one was different.

There were other artworks in the hall to look at as well.  My goodness, how could we have left it so long to come here?

 

Anyway, more information to take in.  This time, along a wall in the gallery where a tapestry had been removed for conservation, a rack of wooden boards with further chunks of the story were set out.

I didn’t re-order them but I did take an opportunity to interact.

The mirror was carefully angled and presented a few more details.  Nothing took too long to read and as we wandered around, we were learning quite a lot about Arbella and her sad story.

But suddenly, it came to a close.  Her residence at Hardwick Hall ended and the remainder of her story was told in a single sheet.  Did they run out of space?  I have no idea, but I thought it a shame that the exhibit fizzled out like this.

Because in the next room, we were to lurch into another timeframe altogether.

I read doormats as well.

Thankfully, our first queries about where Evelyn fitted into the general Cavendish/Devonshire family were answered by the family history laid out like a place mat on the huge dining table.  Evelyn was the current Duke of Devonshire’s Great Grandmother and lived at Chatsworth until the death of her husband, when as the Dowager, she moved to Hardwick Hall, part of the Devonshire Estate.  (Of course, the Devonshire Fell Hotel, where we’d spent Wednesday night is also part of that considerable estate too)

The principal attribute of Evelyn’s story was that of her interest in needlework and as a result, much of the information was presented on embroidery frames or similar.

In modern National Trust style, some places were set out for “audience participation” – a couple of chairs were set by a table with baskets of knitting and sewing.  I quite liked the cushions

even if I don’t really need a reminder of what a chair is for.

The stories of Evelyn’s life travelling the world were shown in suitcases.

And her interest in trying to conserve the wealth of textiles at Hardwick Hall was highlighted, too.  It seems that not only did she try painting in some of the faded areas of Elizabethan tapestry, she actually had a go at washing one of them and was horrified when it shrunk!

On the landing was, in my opinion, the weak spot of the exhibition.  One of Evelyn’s roles had been the “mistress of the robes” to Queen Mary and the gown she wore to the coronation of King George V had been recreated and displayed on the landing.

It was a good vehicle for telling the story of the relationship between Evelyn and Queen Mary, but I found the whole thing rather clumsy and less sensitive than other areas.

Or maybe it’s just my aversion to pink and white satin!

Her bedroom contained what was described on the pillowcase as “a modest bed for a Duchess”.

Surprisingly modest furniture too, but chock full of interesting bits and pieces.

Yes, of course I had a good poke around!

I really like the way the National Trust are starting to present information in this way though I imagine it takes quite some maintenance to keep it all crisp and fresh.

Handwritten letters such as this give a real insight to the person, I think, and I enjoy taking a close look at them.

It’s always worth opening that drawer that no-one else did, too, because you never know what you might find!

Throughout the house, we’d appreciated the lack of ropes and barriers to taking a closer look but it was only here in the last room that I noticed the “marker” – there on the floor was a wooden moulding which was surprisingly effective as a borderline not to be crossed.

The story of Evelyn’s life told, then, we felt it was time for a sit down, even if we did have to go and find the cafe!

I suspect it won’t be long before we return to Hardwick, too.  it’s another one of those “just off the motorway” places well worth visiting, if only we’d bothered…!