Wartime Farm

  (Many thanks to the BBC for the use of this image)


This is the new series following on from Victorian Farm and Edwardian Farm, and starring historian Ruth Goodman, and archaeologists Alex Langlands and Peter Ginn.  The first part of Wartime Farm was aired last Thursday and is going to be obligatory viewing for the next few weeks, plus the book and DVD of the series are officially on my Christmas list.  I was particularly looking forward to seeing this production as it is filmed at a place I know very well, just a few miles from where I grew up, and where I walked, played and rode in childhood and walked and rode as an adult.  I know it as Cricket Camp, but it is now officially Manor Farm Country Park. 

I have written about it before, HERE, so you will get more of an idea what the farm and area are like, and also its wartime history and importance to me.

I have such happy memories of riding there on dear old Snowy, and later walking my dogs Tara and Misty through the woods, and along by the River Hamble, not to mention nearly having an unofficial bath when I rode an ex-steeplechaser Tim (acronym for his racing name, Time is Money) and he started pawing at the water when we rode into the river and a lot of energetic leg aids and some yelling just managed to forestall him sagging at the knees and having a bath!

There were more wartime memories today, as after we had spent a long morning at the car boot sale at Laugharne, we took up the offer of a cuppa from the lovely couple Simon and Min who run the 1940s museum there, and had a lovely long chat, sat in the little two room cottage which forms part of the museum.  There was vintage 1930s/40s music playing on a gramophone and as we sat round the table and talked, we could almost have been back in WWII.  We have been pleased to donate a couple of family items from that period to the museum and it is good to see them in use, and my husband's mother's little aluminium pan is part of the wartime story told about the Anderson Shelter, as she used to take that, the tea caddy, and the ration book into the shelter whenever there was an air raid.

Now an early night is called for I do believe, as I can hardly stay awake.  Oh, and cow number 400207, if you belch like that again when I am picking blackberries the other side of the hedge, I shall report you to the methane police!

I love cooking

At a recent car boot sale I found a book called Ann Carr's Recipe Collection.  c. 1987 but it had my sort of recipes in and tbh, 1987 still seems like last year to me!

Then when in town today I couldn't' resist a copy of the BBC Good Food series "One Pots" from which I wanted to try just about every recipe, so it seemed good value at £3.70 - you get 100 recipes for that.  I keep my food magazines for years anyway, so feel it's a good investment.

I really enjoy cooking but I have to admit that since the girls have left home my horizons have been closing down on me as they are the ones who like "interesting" food (e.g. tasty!)  My menfolk like their food fairly plain and boring.  My husband's idea of fancy cooking is corned beef hash!  So now and again I get some inspiration to cheer myself up.

Talking of the kitchen, I got some paint for it today as I am sick of it being white.  It has always been one shade or another of yellow and it just didn't look right white - we painted it that colour to make it look lighter to anyone viewing.  Well, no-one is viewing and we have to live here, so s*d it!  I spent the afternoon painting the bay window walls in Buttermilk, and it looks like it should do and a deep Clotted cream colour rather than yellow.  I was also Very Good and I set to and cleaned the paintwork and windows (inside and out) and scrubbed the floor there too.

The sleepy late-summer feeling of early Autumn has now been replaced with winds and rain.  I look at my apple crop and hope it will get larger before the birds peck every single apple off the trees . . .  The apples are like this year's blackberries - where they are present, they are very small and hardly worth picking.  The elderberries are virtually non-existent (although one of the bushes in the yard has cheerfully begun to flower again) and several people have said there are no sloes, so I am glad I have some of each in the freezer from last year.

What is the wild harvest like in your neck of the woods?

Losing patience . . .

Once again, Google blogger has informed me that I no longer have enough space for any more pictures.  I think I may be going to move my blog to a different provider, so watch this space . . .

We have had a busy week here, and several early starts.  I am feeling somewhat jaded this morning.  I had planned a stroll up the hill to pick whatever pathetic blackberries I can find, but I've just looked out of the window and it has started raining . . .  Damn - that means I have a date with the ironing instead!

Anyway, last night's rain drove one of our wanderlust cats back home, as Jarvis reappeared on the scene after a heavy belt of rain had arrived and done its worst.  He'd been gone about four days, little wretch, but will be tucked up on our bed later on, with his head on my pillow (there is a patchwork quilt between he and it.)  His brother Alfie has been a bit lost without him.  He doesn't get the same wanderlust and is always around the house or garden.  They will be thundering up and down the stairs once I leave the kitchen door open.

We thought that little Ban would be lurking up in the attic once the rain had driven her in last night, but when we came out into the hall, there was a rustling of newspaper and we found her in one of the two bags of screwed up wrapping paper we had retrieved from amongst the car boot china yesterday.  She was as warm as toast and had she not moved, would probably have been totally overlooked and spent the night there!

I had one REALLY positive discovery over the weekend - how much singing will help my Asthma.  I haven't sung for years and yet I used to love singing along when we were playing folk music CDs.  Anyway, having been belting out an accompaniment that sounded rather like a sack of stray cats, I did my peak flow and found it had shot up from 350 to 400!  Now 400 used to be my peak flow average pre all these chest infections.  The woman who was formerly my Doctor told me before I left her practice that I would never reach 400 again.  Well lady, how wrong can you get?!  However, I have also discovered that if you spend the day at a car boot sale and forget to drink the big bottle of water you took with you, dehydration is sufficient to knock this back to 360.

We have had a positive week in many ways though, with our son and heir returning safely from foreign parts.  He is job-hunting in Swansea today and planning to leave home and get a flat/house share with friends and next year, he and his best mate intend to work in Australia and/or New Zealand.  We knew that something along these lines would happen once he had realized that the world is your oyster.

We really WILL be rattling around here once he leaves.  How I wish a buyer would come our way . . .

Blackberrying with cats . . .

Last night it was such a lovely evening that I walked across the lane to the field opposite, to try and find a few blackberries (believe me, it was a FEW as well - about 2 dozen!)  I found I had a trio of cats following me - Banshee (who spends all the warm days of summer in this field), mad Miffy (the boys' mother), and on the cow highway above the bramble bushes, grey tabby and white Sheba (aka Misery Guts) was yowling for me in her deep Eartha Kitt tones).  Ban and Miffy were running around the field like they'd never been free before.  Sheba carried on moaning, because she didn't know how to reach me.  I nursed my dodgy knee and tried not to turn my leg in the poached areas where the lame cows had been hopping round that week.  Sheba finally found her way through a gap in the brambles and joined us, but kept her distance from the other two - she doesn't like any of the others At All. . .

Anyway, we had had a very long day and I am surprised I had any energy to move as we had been up since 6 a.m. and not home till 4.15, having been to a small car boot sale all day.  It was finally worth the effort, when our two rocking chairs went to a new home at a knock-down price, to a dealer on holiday . . .

The photographs are the views from our recent day out in Laugharne.  What an idyllic spot beside the marshes.  I watched Swallows and House Martins swooping low above the brackish tidal stream just flipping their beaks and wings beneath the water and then soaring upwards again in a thousand silver drops.  Gulls and other seabirds floated on the still waters of the high tide.  A swarm of other waders flew up as one from the mudflats as something disturbed them, jinked in a cloud of wings and disappeared from view in a parabola of movement.  A heron stalked at the water's edge, stiff and hesitant like starched grey silk.  Holiday-makers walked below the castle, intent on visiting Dylan Thomas's boathouse.  They paused for photographs - lingering and making the most of the scenic backdrop.

After delivering some artifacts from my husband's family to the 1940s Museum (they were delighted with them and part of my husband's family history is now part of the tour!)  we visited St Martin's Church , and found the grave of Dylan Thomas, marked by a simple wooden cross which people had left seashells and pennies on.  His wife Caitlin is remembered on the other side.  (She survived him by half a lifetime . . .)

Today our son is home from his travels and we are having a celebration meal (roast pork with all the trimmings was requested).  I think we will all sleep well tonight.

A Little of What You Fancy Does You Good

Here are our recent indulgences.  This is quite an early piece of Torquay pottery with a raised hand-painted decoration of Cockington Forge (writing is on the reverse).  No back stamp to say which pottery produced it, and I have yet to track it down as for date etc on the Internet.  Probably first decade of 1900s.  This cost me £4.

A photo showing my entire collection on the shelf above the sink.  I haven't specialized yet - just collecting various pieces and I will decide on which to keep long term at a later date as I learn more about them. 

My husband and I also like Doulton's huntsman design stoneware pieces because they don't pretend to be anything other than utalitarian pieces for country kitchens.  The mug has a large crack behind out of sight (£2) and the teapot has a broken spout (£4).  We can live with them until we can afford undamaged pieces.

Most of our collection lives in the kitchen.  There are a couple of pieces too large to fit on the shelf so they live elsewhere.

The "copper pointy thing" we bought recently, which is in fact a late Georgian/early Victorian copper and brass ale/cider warmer.  It would have been put into the fire, pointy side down, to provide a warm drink for chilled travellers.

I have been thinking, now it has been packed away for the past three years, perhaps I could live without the Portmeirion pieces we had as wedding presents.  I far prefer the wide selection of Torquay pieces, which tie me to my Devon roots. . .

At the Antiques Fair again

 Winstanley Cats.  What's not to like about them?  I shall put one on my Christmas list one year!


We had a wonderful day out last Saturday when we took ourselves off to the Antiques Fair at Builth Wells.  It's about 100  mile round trip, but worth it as it is just our sort of favourite day out and we only go twice a year, when it is on.

Below is a view from the Balcony:

We didn't spend a great deal, and brought a picnic lunch from home to save on spending a chunk to eat at the Fair, as it soon adds up.

The weather kept fine all day and so we were able to have a saunter around all of the outside stalls, and also a good wander around the stands in the sheds.  The posher stands in the Halls we save till last and just window-shop as their prices are not usually within our range, lovely though some of the items for sale are.  To be honest, there is a limit to how much upmarket glass and ceramics you can take in before your eyes glaze over, regardless of how gorgeous it is.  It might be different if we were out to actually BUY a piece of it of course!

My husband was drooling over this stand as it had lots of manly swords and other weaponry.

Lots of stalls had various items of jewellery on, but that's not my thing, so I usually scoot on past.

We love good furniture and this table was one we both lusted after.  No price tag . . .

This is the best photo I could get (the lighting was good here) of all the different ceramics on offer on one stall.

For once, I bought ceramics.  I had a really good look at all the pieces of Torquay pottery on offer, and bought a lovely early piece with a relief pattern and hand-painted decoration of Cockington Forge.  The name was the only give-away as the style was soft and very old-fashioned looking.  We also bought two (damaged thus cheap) pieces of Doulton huntsman pattern stoneware which we also like - a mug and a teapot.  I'll try and remember photos tomorrow.

I think we walked miles as we went round twice, plus back to the car for our lunch and as my knee was giving me jip I had to just amble round and fortunately it held up for the day though it is back to complaining again now and having to be iced.

A day at the horse sale

Sorry about the dearth of postings this week but I have had a busy week, one way and another.  Now today I am feeling hornswoggled after a really good day out at the Antiques Fair up at Builth yesterday, but more of that later.

On Thursday I took myself off to the Horse Sale at Llanybydder.  I forgot my camera, so I will just put up a couple of photos from previous years.

I suppose it is a good thing . . . in a way . . . that the horse sale here is a shadow of what it was in pre-Passport days (horses cannot be sold without a legitimate passport, which documents their markings, colour, distinguishing features etc) which, since it costs money, has partly quashed the indiscriminate breeding of feral ponies.  Ponies which, sadly, often had only one new owner, and that was the meat man.

Now, whilst there are still some ill-bred, unhandled, poorly fed horses and ponies coming through the sales, their numbers are less.  It is still a dumping ground, however, for horses and ponies with medical problems (some unseen without an x-ray - beware the flashy 16.2 hunter which has a wonderful track record under saddle but sells for 400 or 500 gns as it probably has been diagnosed with something incurable - navicular, blindness, wind problems, kissing spines, arthritis all spring to mind.)

Others have behavioural problems - did the "backed and turned away" 5 year old turn out to be a nutter, or just badly started?  Sometimes there is a clue in the wording of the catalogue, for instance, "has been known to buck" or "not 100% in traffic" or "strong ride" or even "goes all day without stopping"!!!  There's presumably no legal come back then . . .  Known vices are supposed to be mentioned - "has been seen to crib", this demonstrated by the horse grabbing on to the metal railings in desperation.

You do get some decent Welsh Cobs going through on occasion, and there are some nice unspoilt youngsters at times and bargains to be had.  Some of the entries are distress sales where people can no longer afford to keep their horse or pony and these may find good homes.  Some ponies are saved from the meat man - a friend bought an elderly and starving little grey Welsh brood mare and gave her four happy years before she went over Rainbow Bridge.  Indeed, our own Itsy was rescued from there and bequeathed to me and is now in the most wonderful forever home, so there are good outcomes at times.

Coloured cobs like this chap are the life-breath of Llanybydder, although the prices they are expected to fetch (often by Traveller owners) are shall we say, exorbitant at times.

Tack is obligatory for horses and ponies considered "broken in".  It is often as old as the hills and quite frequently fits where it touches - either hideously large, small, broken-treed and I've seen bits literally hanging out of ponies' mouths before now.

I do not allow myself to think about the fate of the horses and ponies.  Some I know go for meat.  Some go to less than suitable owners.  Mares (of whatever shape or persuasion) can always be bought to get a foal from and just turned out and forgotten all winter. 

Hooves are usually in shocking condition - one horse last week has feet which had grown really long and then chunks were broken off.  A dark brown brood mare had such shocking sand cracks that some ran from the coronet to the ground and one hoof was split so badly she was almost cloven-footed.  She made under 200 gns. . .

Anyway, I went principally for the tack sale, so missed out on what prices horses were fetching, but I did see an unbroken 3 year old unreg presumably Welsh Cob colt of about 14.1 or so go for just 50 gns.  Had you seen his conformation you would have understood why he went so cheaply . . .