Nothing of interest to report

This is more by way of a log of my activity here for myself (the original purpose of this blog), so it’s not very interesting.

The temperature didn’t rise above freezing all weekend. The pond was frozen so I kept breaking the ice for birds and other wildlife, and pulled sheets of it out together with whatever was attached. Quite an easy way of getting rid of the leaves that fill the water.

Ben has been here to work on the chimney finally – the scaffolding’s only been up since about November last year. It hasn’t rained for about 10 days, so there’s no way to check if the new flashing has worked. Fingers crossed.

I intended to bring the logs down from the garage to the woodshed this weekend, but couldn’t get the big gate to stay open as the hedge was getting in the way so I spent Saturday afternoon hacking at it (the hedge) with shears, the trimmer and secateurs. I’ve actually managed to make it look miles better and am really pleased with the achievement because it’s always been the hardest part of the hedge to reach.

This weekend was hard work, what with grooming and mucking out the horse for Sunday’s ride as well but it’s such a relief, after all the rain in the last few months, to have been able to do something practical and worthwhile. I almost feel enthusiastic about all the other stuff that needs doing…

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Summertime?

Driving down the M4 today, in Wiltshire, I had the sudden feeling of passing through an invisible curtain, leaving behind a cold, grey Spring day and passing into Summer.

When we arrived, the cats went straight out and lay down to enjoy the warmth. I pottered about looking at what had changed in the garden in the last week.

I’m thinking about converting those disused cold frames into raised beds for vegetables. I didn’t think this would work but I discovered today that they have drainage pipes built into the backs of them, so I think it might. I’m a bit daunted by the idea of ordering almost a tonne of topsoil.

Last year’s herb planting is looking fine, although I probably shouldn’t have let them flower but they’re so pretty. The strawberries are all in flower too.

The peonies are out and I must prop this one up before it bites the dust.

Now it’s nine o’clock at night but as the farmers are hell bent on working all the daylight hours, three, no, sorry, four tractors have just gone past. The birds are singing their last notes as the light fades. I’m tired but looking forward to tomorrow.

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A glimpse inside

It’s cold. The sky is clear. Inside is best tonight.

 

 

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A year in the country

It’s good to look back over the last twelve months and a few things that happened. It’s so easy to let life whizz past you without noticing much about it. For instance, I’m surprised that it’s only last January that I was making bike seat covers, as this feels so much longer ago to me.

In January a huge, new cowshed was completed next door to spoil our beautiful view over Bridgwater Bay.

It was also so cold that the many birds that visit my garden were more than usually glad of some extra food. (I am turning into my in-laws with binocs constantly at the ready.)

In February, the weather was warmish and then cold, giving us daffodils, primulas and frost.

In March  the cash-strapped council still managed to open up our most local footpath almost over the road, which must have been on the planning list before the crunch. But hooray for it, as it’s the best way to get to our nearest walk.

In April, the days grew lighter again and Percy was confused about doors.

We had visitors from London, who inspired me to make some changes to the garden.

And I ticked a chore off my list by painting the garage, which needed timber preservation – a rather Swedish blue, natch.

In May, we stayed home and went out.

June was disappointingly un-sunny, but things grew anyway…

As July proved.

It was often not until the evening that the skies cleared and the sun came out.

By August, the wheat had ripened.

And we took ourselves for walks.

Then, in September, the harvest was brought in, changing the views.

In October, the neighbouring field gained some very ordinary cows. We usually have rarer breeds round here. I’m a cattle snob.

The neighbouring farmer cut down the hedge so that you could actually see Broomfield Hill from the garden.

Then as the days shortened in November, there was more staying in than going out.

Although, the occasional walk was managed.

Until the year ended in a grey and mild December; such a contrast to last year’s snow.

All in all, this has been a good and happy year. What more could I ask?  I hope your year was   also good and that 2012 will bring you all you wish for. x

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Curate’s egg

I’m exhausted after a weekend of cutting the hedge and general garden clearing up, in fairly high winds and intermittent rain. I imagined I would do some lovely gardening this weekend – a bit of deadheading and weeding – ornamental kind of stuff. But I thought wouldn’t take too long to trim the hedge. It didn’t but, of course, I’d forgotten how I’d end up distracted by clearing scraping lichen off the bench and sweeping up all the remains of the hedge. My hands hurt, my back’s stiff and I’m fed up. This isn’t how it’s meant to be.

This summer has seen few visitors to the cottage. Most of my friends have already been here once, so the novelty’s gone and I find that I have few takers, when I offer an invitation. Then again, I’m not very good at remembering to invite people with enough notice. Most can’t drop what they’re doing at two days’ notice, just to nip off with me.

So, Spring Cottage is making me feel a bit fed up. I hope it will pass but I feel pretty negative about it at the moment. I’m wondering if it was all a big mistake. Just yet another thing to be responsible for and have to worry about. Has the novelty gone for me too? Have I travelled too much this year for a little place in England to seem interesting? Do I just need to settle in to my normal rhythms and calm down? I should remember that it’s easy for me to feel negative when I’m tired.

On the good side, I went to the Co-Op to get some supplies and was surprised to be greeted by name by a woman, who was obviously on her way to a glamorous night out. I must have looked completely blank as she immediately volunteered, “Riding…”, at which point I recognised her face (but still can’t recall her name). I don’t think I’d ever seen her without a riding hat on. Lovely to bump into someone relatively locally – I never do, unless I’m actually in the garden and someone I know goes past the house. I know so few people here that I’m usually pretty certain that I will be icognito wherever I am.

P.S. It’s interesting how choice of pictures can influence the tone of something. The weekend was really more like the first picture, but the second one makes it actually look quite picturesque. Even the faded plastic parts of the wheelbarrow look like they’re a lovely pink.

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Living with change

Months ago, the farm next door started building the concrete foundations for something in Higher Close, the field behind the cottage – right up against the boundary with my garden. I can’t miss this, as the access to my garage, and the only place to park here, is some hardstanding on land which belongs to them but I have right of access over. The gate to the field has been missing for most of the last year, which feels kind of odd and uncontained. But it’s a field that’s used for arable farming not animals so it doesn’t actually matter.

Late last year I asked Bar-Lady, who lives at the farm, what was going on and was told that they were tapping into the spring that runs parallel with the lane for water to wash their vehicles down with. The spring used to be the only source of water to the cottage until the early 1960s, when mains water was first piped in. I still have two mains water feeds coming into the house – the extra one is presumably from the spring, although I don’t think it actually supplies any water, and you’d want to be a bit careful about the quality of the water if you did use it.

Since I was last here, two massive and very ugly tanks have appeared in the field, presumably to store water, the flow of which probably isn’t constant. You can just see the cottage peeking up above the hedge behind.

I’m not massively happy about this although once everything is in leaf again, they won’t be very obvious. I suppose I just feel a bit nimbyish at the moment. In the last six months, the unspoilt view has had a huge cow shed added and now this.

I hope they really hate the colour I’ve painted my garage. More about which tomorrow.

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Framing time again

Just thought I’d share some pictures I took one weekend in 2009,  that I’m about to print and frame in some lovely picture frames I bought from The White Company in the sale. I used to make picture frames myself, having learnt the craft at an evening class, but these days rarely frame anything unless it’s something very special.

The sea off the coast at Watchet, Somerset.

Cottage at Aisholt, Somerset.

Heathland near Dead Woman’s Ditch, Quantock HIlls.

Have a lovely weekend!

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It’s our turn

My cats would like to say that they haven’t been featured often enough on the Spring Cottage blog although they frequent Spring Cottage, well, frequently and love frolicking outside, where they don’t have to contend with about two cats per square metre, as they do elsewhere.

I’ve had other cat visitors at the cottage: a black and white and a ginger cat and, on one occasion, a beautiful blue Burmese, which scarpered as soon as I saw it. I was curious about the latter because I have few neighbours, and even fewer of the chichi cat owning variety, like me. I hope I see it again one day.

To make up for the omission of my cats, here are some pictures of the foolish things – they are called Percy (the big light coloured one) and Dixie, or Perseus and Eurydice in their pedigree incarnations (please don’t tell me that these were not a couple in mythology, I know that, but the abbreviated names went well together and these are siblings):

Er...

Er... do not eat the mistletoe!

Er... but we like your bed.

Er... it's not for you.

Er... well, you never make anything for us.

Er... isn't this a pillow?

Er... it's my turn to be silly.

Er... but I'm still sillier...

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My Spring Cottage Year

January

Floodtime:  We had a pipe burst in the loft over the kitchen and I learned to leave the heating on and turn off the water at the mains when I leave.

lkj

February

Repairtime: So many things wrong with the house all of a sudden that it became rather depressing to be here but we got through it.

March

In which my neighbour brought me some eggs from the farm, Spring Cottage had lots of visitors and I was reimbursed for the flood by the insurance.

April

When Spring arrived at the cottage, as did a lorryload of logs, and the house was painted. We also celebrated our first year here.

;l

May

Started with a bang. On the day I collected my new car, I had a crash. Racing, double-barrelled cow driving the other car, who then lied about what happened. I’m still annoyed…

l

June

We settled into enjoying the cottage this month, with visitors and summer times in the garden. Nice that the pace slowed down a little.

July

During which nothing much happened and blogging really almost stopped, only to be followed by…

;l

August

During which the blog went public. I had a holiday down here, and blogged like a woman possessed. I also journeyed to the beautiful Montacute House, south of here, and did lots of gardening.

September

Brought the discovery that what I thought was mainly an ornamental vine in the garden, actually had grapes on it. I also celebrated the first comment on the blog and went riding for the first time.

October

October arrived with the cheque from the insurers for the car accident in May. It took five months for them to settle the claim, because they are a pile of idiots. I started having riding lessons.

November

In which Spring Cottage had eight lads to stay and there was the first snow before Christmas for many years.

December

Was cold and frosty, with snow covering everything for the best part of a fortnight. It was frustrating not to be able to get to the cottage despite the Tank – although this was mostly cowardice rather than practicality.

Happy New Year! I hope 2011 brings all the things everyone wishes for, combined with good health and happiness.

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Quick getaway

Made a quick getaway this morning before the house stirred. With the car finally being repaired after the accident on its inaugural journey in May, I did the trip in my old car borrowed back from my friend J, in a record two hours and 20 minutes, as, for once, there were no roadworks or massive caravan tailbacks anywhere en route. My excitement always mounts as I drive up the hill towards the cottage but, as ever, it is mixed with trepidation about what will greet me after a fortnight’s absence.

This time it is the moribund part of the hedge around the back garden, which has finally succumbed. I wish I had known what’s ailed it since Spring – it was obviously well established and old. Now I have holey hedge problems in several places and will have to find someone to come in, with a view to an almighty trim and to plant some relatively fast growing thing to replace what has been lost to nature and the vehemence of the council’s hedge manglers. The house too, is subtly changed; a little colder, a bit more damp – it has obviously been raining a lot during the last two weeks. I take time to adjust to what I find, as the changes make me anxious at first – more challenges to be faced and chores to be done – and then I remind myself of the luxury that is mine to have these things to worry about, and pull myself together.

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Devon day

Weekend here with Boy, who can’t stop talking about his new job and about a flat that he wants to move into with some friends, for the first time in over six months. Nice to have some family time here together, although he is hell bent on going back to London as soon as possible. Hold on to them loosely to keep them close – I must remember this…

On Saturday, we picked up my new cabinet from Tracy at French Gray near Dulverton. She has a lovely farm on the fringes of Exmoor, where she restores tired pieces of furniture by painting and distressing them. Something that I’ve done myself but recently haven’t had time for. It looks nice in the living room, although the accent of the room has become twee-er, but hope to set that right with my new prints.

Then we drove to see JM, who was staying with his sister near Chard, about 45 minutes south of here. We went on a lovely long walk, unfortunately in the wrong shoes, so sore toes for me. It was interesting to see how the countryside is subtly different to the Quantocks – the local stone is a lot more flinty and electricity pylons, large and small, more prominent everywhere (but I think I’m particularly lucky in that respect – go another couple of miles north from Spring Cottage and they’re everywhere), but it was lovely to see another glorious part of the south west.

On our walk we found an abandoned-looking little thatched cottage, which would have made a wonderful project for someone, in a place called Cuckholds Pit. In rather a state, with a  collapsing thatch, but it was actually also fascinating to see what cottages looked like before they were gobbled up and made all delightful by townies like me.

Supper at the Traveller’s Rest – great steak today – and they have a new Otter beer, Otter Ale, which is much stronger than the bitter. So now I’m going to have to be much more specific about my favourite tipple.

Riding lesson was fun on Sunday: a hour in the arena with Sally and a horse called Spot, learning how to sit (I thought I knew that already) and control the horse properly. It’s rather like driving a car, with all your extremities needing huge amounts of concentration and coordination to keep them in the right place.

Cow posing

Even this pylon was fine looking

Echinacea purpurea – I must get some for the garden

JM and Boy missing the obvious

Lost, tired people

Yes, we did get a bit lost… despite a host of navigational aids.

Postscript: We drove past signposts to places that sounded quite delicious today: Beercrowcombe, Stewley and Curry Mallet.

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Warm walls

Looking forward to seeing the freshly painted Spring Cottage which is almost finished. Lady-Gardener reports that it’s looking ‘fantastic’, which is just as well since it’s costing quite a lot more than quoted. But that’s always the way. Going down tonight.

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Antidote for work

On days when work is just too much, it’s really nice to take a break at lunchtime and think about Spring Cottage. In future, it should be possible to work from there, as broadband is being installed this week. I hope I have the chance to spend a bit more time down there in the months to come. That should give me a bit of perspective.

But it is proving difficult to manage seeing friends in London as well and I am feeling a bit out of touch with people. The odd thing is that the pattern for the last 15 years or so has been that I was very static and people around me left London to live in other UK cities or abroad. Now I’m the one going away. It’s nice but strange to be the one with the activity in their life, when I’m so used to grinning and bearing it while sometimes feeling that I was watching life go by.

Going to the gym has become a thing of the past. Or almost so. But having said that the work on the house and garden is quite strenuous. One of my aims for next week is to get a gardener sorted out. Nothing grand, just someone to mow the lawn once a week would do the trick. Then I can get the hedges dealt with on a quarterly basis and then I can just do the nice bits: edging the flower beds, a bit of trimming here and there and weeding.

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Firsts

A weekend of firsts in many ways. Spring Cottage has turned from a building into a dwelling.  Boy got a first class degree and it was his first visit to the cottage and we made our first, and hopefully last, proper trip to Bridgwater.

Rented a transit van and drove two sofas, the kitchen table and my new mattress to Somerset. The result was unexpected – London house now strenuously unfurnished in certain areas, while cottage now manageable. Not quite my intention but things haven’t quite worked out as planned with my new table still stranded in Sweden and replacement sofas not yet ordered due to my indecisiveness.

First local walk. Really lovely weather. Quite hilly. Locals very friendly. Everyone says hello from their front gardens, which is very nice.

Hungry after our trip and unloading so we thought we’d go to the pub. First mistake, they only take cash and cheques and I had neither. Second mistake: drove to Bridgwater, which sounds much nicer than it is. It has only one discernible restaurant, but it makes up for this with copious amounts of teenage chavs doing wheelies in the pedestrianised centre. Barred from the rather naff pizzeria (no reservation) in what must have once been a lovely small corn exchange, we wandered the streets and eventually found ourselves in Oscar’s Fish Bar and took away cod and chips. Served by a twenty-something Turk who entertained us with stories of his mother’s pickled grapes, tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers – he showed us some of the creations on the menu: bolognaise sauce and chips; and chip wrap (a kind of bizarre tortilla). No wonder everyone’s overweight. What must he think of us British? Our intended picturesque supper on a bench in one of the few nice areas, a Georgian square full of solicitors’ and doctors’ offices, was scuppered by more teenagers. Reluctant to join their underage drinking party, we retired to the van again.  Bridgwater’s only saving grace is B&Q.

Sunday – lovely gardening before Boy woke up, more gardening while he read the paper. Not quite the scenario I had in mind but he did eventually help with dismantling the creative spiral stair construction. A miracle of engineering with some parts pendant structures and other supported from beneath. All precariously interdependent and easily wrecked. Three or four hours later, we abandoned the attempt, foiled by my leaving the scanty instructions at home, at which point we had one final go at carrying the headboard upstairs – upside down this time and MANAGED IT. Thank goodness. It would have been too terrible to have done all that and not have achieved the aim. Everything else will have to be flat pack or very small. I’m never doing that again.

Too tired to put the reunited parts of the bed together, we set off back to London, and rounded off the weekend’s achievements by dining in the van again. This time drive-in McDonald’s. Another first – this McDonald’s offered car service, a thing I’d never seen before, even in the  States, the vehicular equivalent of table service. A girl gamely carrying bags of food from the drive-in window to people’s cars. How lazy is that?

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Frustration

Very torn between needing to be at home for the exam period and needing to get things fixed up down at Spring Cottage. There is a mountain of things in the living room, which need to be taken there, and I need to check on how the painting is going. I have paid half the painter’s costs, against my better judgement, so I hope he has been doing a good job. Further frustration resulting from a last minute dinner invitation for tonight, which I’ve accepted, but which means I won’t be heading west until Saturday morning. I hate the feeling of there not being enough hours to do everything I want to do. Had a sensible talk with myself on the bus to remind myself that this is really the last weekend, that this will strictly apply. The next two are definite London ones as the exams will be in full session, and then the issue will disappear.

This weekend should see: putting up the house sign and mowing at the very least. I also want to test the mobile broadband which I have finally succeeded in installing on my computer after two weeks of fiddling and reading geeky blogs online. I hope the reception is better than in London (unlikely) or else it will be back to BT. All the other stuff – purchases, new blinds, etc., will have to stay packed up until the painting is finished.

This must be the most boring blog on earth.

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