Where am I?

I’m in a kind of shopping centre this morning.

It’s a place where the WH Smith magazines are at the rear of the store, not right by the front door.

The front shelves are reserved for tea towels

and shortbread.  Was there ever a more “British” WH Smith?

The Olympics are a strong theme here too, with a dedicated shop selling all kinds of souvenir of an event which is still to come.  Perhaps there is another word for that? (My Hero suggests "prevenir”.  Discuss)

For some reason, people here love their Toblerone and there is a huge display of the biggest sized bars.  I’ve yet to work that one out, too.

But I love the art and always smile when I pass the horse-with-a-lampshade-on-his-head.

Maybe you’ve guessed already?  Perhaps you need no further clues?

We’re sitting at Heathrow Terminal 5, waiting for our flight. 

See you when we get there!

Food for the soul

We woke up this morning feeling replete. 

More than, actually.

We spent most of yesterday working with the legendary master baker Clive Mellum at Shipton Mill, at one of his breadmaking workshops.  We learned the basics from Clive a couple of years ago, since when we’ve baked bread regularly, usually with “Clive’s Mother” providing the necessary ferment.  My hero is the breadmaker in chief and having found a failsafe formula which we both love, we’ve lacked the confidence to explore alternatives, to stretch the parameters or stray from the prescribed method.  We needed another boost of confidence from Clive, and seized the opportunity to take his “advanced” workshop yesterday.  With our friends Arthur and Barbara and two ladies from Herefordshire, the six of us had Clive’s undivided attention for the day.  How lucky were we?

The basket of breads we were introduced to at the start of the day contained an impressive range of shapes and textures – surely we couldn’t expect to create such magic in just a short time?  Clive had other ideas!  With the first hour, the rye sourdough starter was at work and we’d got our hands in the dough.  In what seemed like a very short space of time, Clive was pulling our first loaves from the oven – attractively cracked crusted rye breads, proved in floured baskets which gave them that lovely stripy pattern.  Were we impressed with our work?  you bet!

No time to interrupt the workflow though, and in a matter of minutes we had other doughs in our boxes, rising there under the table in the warmth of the bakery.  We quickly made a couple of sourdough pita breads each, watching them inflate and bake in just three minutes in the oven.  The other dough in the photograph above is an open crumb, made using something Clive referred to as a “flying sponge” – there is always more to learn!

Finally, we needed to shape our baguettes – another nifty technique, explained and demonstrated in seconds by Clive but probably needing a couple of pages in a book.  We set out our beauties on deckchair canvas and went off to get some fresh air whilst Clive prepared our lunch.

Didn’t I say what a treasure he is?

The mill is in an idyllic setting on the bank of the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal and as we took a breather, entertainment was provided in the form of the tipper truck delivery and the occasional boat passing by.

We sat in the sunshine, thinking how good life is – taking the opportunity to photograph some of those lovely reflections in the water.

Of course, when the call came to say lunch was ready, we didn’t really expect such a feast!  Could there ever be a more appetising bread and cheese lunch?

In the meantime, Clive had put our baguettes into the oven and look what beauties resulted?  That loaf with a G on it was described as “top baguette” by Clive – and yes, it’s mine! 

More baking – this time a half and half rye and white flour loaf which turned out like this

And then, the “open crumb”, focaccia bread was baked

Last but not least, there were some seed doughs there we’d made earlier, which needed shaping and baking.

Clive demonstrated a new (to us) method of snipping the top of the dough with scissors which all of us loved – one loaf was snipped, the other slashed and into the oven they went.

And that was that.  3.3opm and one box of the yummiest, most attractive baked goodies later, we were done.  Yes, my snipped loaf does look like an open jaw with very sharp teeth!  The plastic bag contains the flying sponge for the next focaccia bake and, best of all, because both my Hero and I did the workshop, there’s another, almost identical box of baking to bring home as well!  I think that there’s going to be one full freezer here, but how good is that?

Oh, and you might recall the reflections I was admiring at lunchtime on the canal?  Well, after the baking workshop, we drove to Symphony Hall Birmingham, to a concert and sat by the canal there for a while, enjoying the unseasonably warm evening.

Did I think the reflection at lunchtime was good? 

Bah!

Birmingham did better!

In the still evening air, the water was like glass, until a flight (flotilla?) of geese decided to mush it up by swimming along it!

The concert was terrifc.  Andris Nelsons on tiptop form and a well filled hall is almost guaranteed to make the evening special and we left feeling bowled over by the experience.  If you can Listen Again using the link, you might get a flavour of the atmosphere there in Birmingham, if not, you’ll simply have to believe me that it was indeed a dazzling evening.

What a day. 

What an evening. 

What an aroma in the car when we returned after the concert!!

The busiest day

It was the most beautiful Autumn morning and with a day to myself and the Stanley Spencer exhibition coming to a close at Compton Verney, off I went.

Needless to say everyone else had the same idea and when I arrived, shortly after opening time, there was the longest queue I’ve ever seen to get in.  Not only that, I’d just watched two coaches pull up and keeping an eye on the large groups descending, decided to consider my plan carefully to keep one step ahead.  My first stop was to go and book a table for lunch!

I loved the exhibition, found I was able to stand and gaze at each painting without hindrance or obstruction and scribbling away in my little notebook, I very much enjoyed the privilege of seeing some of his most lovely work – because this was an exhibition of gardens and the subject matter was rather less troubling than some of the more obsessive religious and sexual subjects.  Most of the time, I was intrigued by the proportions, the unusual perspectives and in the case of the painting  entitled Bellrope Meadow,  the placement of the michaelmas daisies bang slap in the middle with the two village buildings merely playing a cameo role in the top corners.  Lovely – and way better than that picture the link takes you to!

My favourite is probably The Hoe Garden, commissioned by Plymouth who I read were surprised to get this rather “warts and all” impression of a garden.  Far from pretty, the old duckboards and doors with peeling paint create what I think is a rather lovely background to the plants themselves, set out in pots in lines in more of a nursery setting than a garden. 

Having paid homage to the Gloucestershire link – the Cottage Garden at Leonard Stanley and the painting of Village Life, Gloucestershire 1940, I was ready to move on, to visit my favourite Compton Verney piece, there in the Chinese Gallery.

As I stood looking at this lovely Shang Dynasty vessel, marvelling for the umpteenth time at the wealth of pattern and texture there on the surface, one of the CV guides came over and gave me the very welcome news that last week, the decision was taken to allow photography in this part of the gallery.  How timely was that?

Better still, Peter had a few minutes to spare, to tell me more about this incredible piece and I was only too happy to listen and learn more.

Yes, it’s an owl and it’s 3000 years old.  It was bought by CV three and a half years ago from a gallery/museum in Buffalo, New York for a considerable sum of money.

£4.1 million.  A bargain in my opinion (and if someone else is paying!)

No wonder I like it ;-)

He pointed out that it has a handle, but no spout.  Probably used for millet wine, that must have been ladled out rather than poured.  I love it and every visit I spot a new little design which I then draw into my small notebook – I don’t think I’ll ever run out of patterns to spot!

In the same gallery were two rocking horses, one of which had been placed there by Sir Peter Blake as part of the “Folk Art Interventions” exhibition.  In my haste to see the Stanley Spencer, I’d overlooked this other interesting arrangement, so picked up a leaflet and enjoyed looking around a few less familiar objects in surprising settings.  A clever idea to draw attention to items which benefit greatly from a little (metaphorical) spotlighting.  There in the corner too, was a spookily familiar face – that of Daniel Lambert.  Now this man has been the subject of several discussions around here recently, initially in a conversation with two friends who visited Leicester Museum, thereby provoking a conversation about memories of our time in that neck of the woods.  I recalled taking classes of children to the museum and their great interest in the picture of this enormous Leicester character (claimed by the Leicester Mercury as “an icon”, no less).  Since then, dear old Daniel Lambert has popped into further conversations, so much so that when I was able to recall his name and further details about his life at a lunch party the other day, I felt I needed to explain the source of such arcane knowledge.  After all, who carries such stuff around in their heads? (not me, usually)  So, imagine my surprise when I entered the gallery and was confronted by a painting of the man himself!  I brought home a postcard and hope that now this particular ghost can be laid to rest.  Enough already!

After lunch there was time for a quick look around the Capability Brown exhibition which was, for me, rather less interesting than the other parts of the gallery.  Looking out over that landscape, designed by the man himself, I did wonder what he might have made of the huge rocking horse which now sits there, centre stage?  Just one of the quirks which for me, makes this place special!

As I left, I remarked to the volunteer by the door how busy the place was today. “The busiest day since March” she said.  Interesting!

Saturday

A fine September Saturday with nothing in the diary, so what better way to spend it than out in the fresh air with a bit of culture thrown in?

If it all comes for free as well, thanks to our ArtFund membership, then all the better!

Friends had recommended we pay a visit to Tredegar House, not a million miles away from us and yet somewhere neither of us had been before.  We had no idea what to expect, didn’t bother looking anything up (beyond noting the time of opening on a Saturday) and arrived feeling pretty relaxed and with open minds.

A walk around the lake was a great way to pass the hour or so before the first guided tour.  We’d heard from our friends that this was really very good indeed and were delighted to find we were in a small group of just six visitors.

Our guide, Chris, was superb – the amount of knowledge he shared was incredible, the stories were fascinating and the way in which he brought the Morgan family and their history to life was marvellous.  After nearly two hours of taking us into almost every corner of the building, the wealth of background information all generously told with a wry sense of humour left me wondering why we’d left it for so long to come here.

Sadly, no photographs inside, but there are a few pictures here and the Tredegar House Blog contains a flavour of some of the stories of the more colourful characters we learned about.

As usual, I had my notebook and pencil and scribbled my way around, noting a few things to find out more about later.  There were some really great portraits about the place including one by GF Harris (Rolf Harris’ grandfather, I learned) and another, of Lady Katherine Morgan, by Augustus John.  Perhaps my favourite note is the list of labels on the drawers in the Housekeeper’s Sitting Room, written down quickly as we were picturing the scene when cook came “cap in hand” to request the particularly valuable ingredients kept safe in the Housekeeper’s care.  On the set of drawers contained within a wall to wall cupboard, I read

Spice

Spice

All Sorts of Seeds

Barley Sugar

Cocoa and Chocolate

3 Sorts of Almonds

Pistacia Nuts

Hartshorn Shavings

Isinglass

With the new series of Downton Abbey just starting and features popping up all over the place about life in a grand country house, “downstairs” was all a little more familiar to use than it might have been this time last year.  We almost expected Bates to come through the door at any minute!

Tredegar House is owned by Newport City Council but the management of the property will soon be taken over by the National Trust.  Having encountered a remarkable group of staff members today from the minute we stepped inside the door, we left hoping that the delightfully friendly attitude will remain and that the change will bring only improvements to this great place.

Finally, any excuse to watch the Newport parody of Alicia Key’s Empire State of Mind on YouTube is welcome in this household. (I linked to the version with subtitled explanations in case you’re not familiar with the vernacular!)

Ouch

Yesterday, whilst making soup, I grated my finger.

(Lesson learned: Microplane graters are SHARP!)

Fortunately, the blood/vegetable ratio was sufficiently weighted on the vegetable side that we didn’t notice a difference in flavour.

All day I’ve struggled to do the most ordinary of tasks.  It’s extraordinarily painful and in a really awkward place, just where my right index finger bends around a knife, a pen, a peeler…  I was making a cake because after many months of phone calls requesting a meeting, we caved in and agreed to a visit from The Bank Manager this afternoon.

Washing up was a particularly painful job, because even though the waterproof plasters claim to be waterproof…they aren’t (and those Magimix bowls don’t go in the dishwasher).  Fortunately, by the time The Bank Manager arrived (with his colleague, Another Bank Manager), all was cleared up and hunkydory, if somewhat d-u-l-l.

So I was really very pleased that WyeSue posted this fun link this afternoon, because it is really very clever, doesn’t need a pen or paper, can be done with my left hand (because it doesn’t matter how poor my drawing is!) and it made me smile after a dreary afternoon sitting at a table talking about interest rates.

Have go…

(with apologies to any Bank Managers reading)