Pumpkins, Spiders, Candles and Leaves!

Well, October has been and gone, the clocks have gone back, dark nights have arrived, the weather has been truly awful, and winter seems to be well on the way, so it’s a bit late for an autumnal post, but I’m doing one anyway for this week’s Saturday Snapshot. 

Table Scene for Hallowe'en.

First up is a Hallowe’en photo, taken by Elder Daughter when she and her boyfriend visited us a couple of weeks back, and I created a seasonal table centre. I crocheted pumpkins and leaves, and made pompoms,and balanced them all on this spooky spider (it’s really a cardboard cake stand – part of a Marks and Spencer donation of goods to Oxfam), and there were Hallowe’en crackers (M&S again, gifted to Oxfam – I couldn’t resist buying both items). And I dug out my little pumpkin candles (saved from last year) and bought chunky orange candle, and hey presto, we had instant table décor, with very little effort! And I know self-praise is no recommendation, but I still think it looks pretty, and I didn’t forget the food (after all, it’s the meal that’s important), so I cooked cooked nut roast, with added cranberries and pumpkin seeds, for myself, and chicken, roasted with fresh rosemary and grated lemon rind for the carnivores, who tucked into both dishes with great relish, so it’s just as well I did 
plenty of the veggie recipe!

My 'rescue' embroidery of a Woodland Cottage in
Autumn, complete with trailing threads!

Next up is an autumnal embroidery. A friend of my mother’s started doing it years ago, and gave it to mum to finish, because she felt she wasn’t up to working on it any more. Mum said her eyes weren’t good enough for cross stitch, so she gave it to me, and I’ve been working on it (on and off) over the last six months or so. It’s not quite as easy as I thought, because the lady who was stitching it worked inwards from the edges, and I continued that way, although I always find it better to start at the middle and work out. However, although the edges are now finished, the central panel is not aligning correctly, so I am following the chart as best I can, adding in compensatory stitches to fill the gaps in some places, and missing some stitches out altogether. Hopefully, because there’s a fair amount of flowers and foliage, no-one will realise there’s anything wrong!

There only seems to be a black and white image with
the instructions, but it's supposed to look like this,
and was a kit from the Craft Collection Ltd

I want to finish it because the lady who started it died recently, and she was such a nice person, and was a such a good friend to Mum. Anyway, I love the autumnal colours, and the shapes of the leaves and seeds around the edge, and I’m sure it will be OK when I finally complete it. It should look like the picture above.

A Chestnut Tree in MacGregor Park - it's lost a lot of
leaves since I took this.

Continuing the autumnal feel, I have some photographs I took a few weeks ago, showing trees, leaves and berries before the bad weather kicked in, and we were still at the stage where I was thinking of Keats – you know, the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ and so on, and so forth.  I love that poem. 

Hawthorn berries- I can always recognise these!

The sky was blue, and the sun shone, and the trees were still full of leaves, which were just beginning to turn colour, and there were berries, and fruits, and seeds. It certainly doesn’t look very mellow or fruitful at the moment: there are tattered dead leaves blowing everywhere, and lots of fallen twigs, and the outer casings of conkers and beechnuts, and broken wings of sycamore seeds, and acorn ‘cups’ (the acorns have disappeared).

Oak 'apples' - they are made by some kind of gall wasp.

And everything looks very wet, and it’s quite blustery, but there are still bright scarlet berries on many trees and bushes, and if you look closely in the wooded areas you can spot fungi growing through the debris.

Beautifully coloured leaves were everywhere in the Town
Wall Nature Reserve, and this was one of the nicest.

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Melinda, at West Metro Mummy - click to follow the links to other participants.

Some kind of fungus in Alvecote Wood.

Saturday Snapshot: Getting Back into My Stride

Lakeside view:  Tamworth's Borrowpit Lake is fringed by
bushes and trees, and provides a home for water birds.

For some reason the walking has gone a bit to pot over the summer, and I’m not really sure why – partly, I think, because there were several days when I didn’t go out because I thought it might thunder. I know, that’s sad. I’m sad. Anyway, I got out of the habit of taking a regular walk, but I have been busy in the garden over the summer, which is good exercise, and I did a lot of walking on our various trips.

The Snowdome has a ski slope with real snow, a pool and a
gym. From this angle it doesn't look too bad, but it;s a
hideous building, which dominates the landscape.

However, I decided I must get back into walking again, because it makes me feel so much better, mentally and physically. So on Tuesday morning I donned a jumper (it was jolly cold outside), and my wonderful walking boots (I still love them, and the pink laces) and set off to see what’s been happening in the Big Wide World. And I'm posting some photos for Saturday Snapshot to show you where I went - including some shots of Tamworth's modern buildings (which I tend to avoid), alongside photos of nice things! The town may not be very big, but it's very built up, and I really value our little 'wild' areas and parks. 

These vivid yellow flowers added a welcome splash
of colour to the day.

Anyway, I went down the road, under the Arches (which I've written about here), into the Castle Pleasure Grounds, across the the Snowdome car park, round the edge of Borrowpit  Lake, over the River Anker, alongside the drainage channel and over the road to Ventura Park (our out-of-town shopping area). 

This is the Holiday Inn which, like the Snowdome doesn't
look too bad here, but from the other side it's vile,
and the photos don't show how big  the buildings are.

It was very grey, and bitterly cold, but there were flocks of ducks and geese on the water, and the two mallard crosses, which are much bigger and darker than the others, are still there. Back in the summer I was pleased to see they had young - I had wondered if they would breed, because sometimes hybrids don't, but this week there was no sign of the youngsters. I know they would be well grown by now, but their colouring was so distinctive they would be quite unmissable if they were around.

Part of our out-of-town shopping area. This was very early
in the morning - by 10am the car park is always packed, and
vehicles are circling round, hooting, and fighting for a space.

Grey squirrels were scampering about, and there were plenty of birds (but I could only recognise pigeons and magpies!). And there were still masses of wildflowers blooming in the grass, along the river bank, in the car park, and in the Castle Grounds. I spotted a drift of pale purple balsam growing on the very edge of the River Anker. I think this is Himalayan Balsam, which can grow quite tall, and is very invasive, but it might be another variety. At any rate, it looked pretty. But flowering season is coming to an end. The leaves on some trees were just beginning to change colour, and there were lots of berries on the trees, some of them still green or orange, rather than the bright red they become later in the season.

From the front I think this flower looks like an
open mouth! Is it Himalayan Balsam?

Over by the shops I had to indulge in a spot of retail therapy – just to keep warm you understand! I was sooooooo cold I couldn’t move my fingers! It was FREEZING, and it’s only September, so I hope this is not a foretaste of what’s to come. In any case, I need to find my gloves, which I stashed away in a safe place at the end of winter, but it’s such a safe place I can’t remember where it is!

In another couple of weeks these berries will be a glorious red.

What’s that you say? What did I buy? I bought a pretty notebook and matching file to keep things in, because I got an old printer working with my new laptop, and went mad printing off crochet patterns, and maps and information about the local nature reserves! And I got some some vitamin pills  and Echinacea tablets, in the hopes they will help ward off winter colds, and some loose tea, because I love the ritual of making tea in a pretty china pot. 

I love the pretty design on this notebook and file.

By the time I’d warmed enough to venture outside again, it was raining, but it was so nice to be out walking in the fresh air that I really didn’t mind, and I made my way back through the Castle Grounds and up the road to home. (Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Melinda, at West Metro Mummy - click to follow the links to other participants.)

The Castle is the most beautiful building in
Tamworth.

Copper Sinks and Chinese Silks

The poshest back door I've ever seen! Much nicer than
the front I think. 

It seems a while since I posted a Saturday Snapshot – we’ve been away three times over the last few weeks (the Man of the House teaches, so he has to take time off during the school holidays) so we’re completely out of routine at the moment. Anyway, the new term has started, so normality is slowly re-establishing itself, and for this week’s Saturday Snapshot I thought I would post up some more of the photos I took when we visited our elder daughter and her boyfriend in Plymouth.

Saltram's front entrance,

These were taken at Saltram, a beautiful Georgian mansion about a 20-minute walk from Lucy’s home in Plympton. During our visit we looked at an old map on the wall and were fascinated to discover that the housing estate was built on land which once belonged to the ‘big house’. We were also intrigued to learn that the house featured in Ang Lee’s film of Sense and Sensibility (the  where Emma Thompson played Elinor) – Saltram was ‘cast’ as Norwood Park, the home that Mrs Dashwood and her daughters are forced to leave when her husband dies.

Part of the saloon, where guests would have been
 entertained. It is very ornate indeed!

The estate gets its name from the salt that was harvested on the nearby river estuary, and the original house seems to date back to Tudor times, but was extensively altered and enlarged in the 18thC, when it was acquired by the wealthy Parker family, who became Earls of Morley. It was they who had it fitted out in the fashion of the day, with no expense spared. Each generation added and embellished, keeping it sylish and luxurious. Most of it was designed by the great Robert Adam, and the ornate drawing room (or saloon, as they would have called it), with its decorative plasterwork and furnishings, is considered to be one of his finest interiors. The walls are packed with paintings, and there;s golden gilding, and glittering crystal chandeliers, and it's all very beautiful, and very opulent, but a bit overwhelming - almost intimidating. A room to impress visitors perhaps, rather than somewhere for the family to curl up and relax.

Oh dear, this is saved upright, and it's doing  that weird
thing again, but you can get a glimpse of the ceiling, and
the chanderliers, and some of the paintings. 

At the same time formal gardens were created, and a landscaped park was established, forming artistic 'natural' views from the windows.

Is it time for lunch yet? I love  the clock
perched up on the roof.

There are so many rooms and corridors I wonder if guests or new members of staff ever got lost! I certainly would have done: I have no sense of direction, and without the Guide Book I might still be wandering round and round searching vainly for the exit! There are the most incredible bedrooms, with four-poster beds and adjoining ‘dressing rooms’ – the walls of one bedroom and dressing room are covered in exquisitely hand-painted silk, all the way from China, showing little Chinese scenes. And there’s a grand staircase, and a dining room with a table laid out with out with silver cutlery and delicate china and glasses. It all looks so posh I would be terrified of eating or drinking, but I guess this was what the Parkers were used to. 

Oriental Art: A room papered with hand-painted
Chinese silk..

Then there's a mirror room (more Chinese paper and decorations here - chinoiserie was very popular in high society), a garden room, a map room, a study, and a wonderful library, lined floor to ceiling with leather-bound books, and there were lots of little bookshelves in the other rooms, so I like to think the family enjoyed reading. I get the impression they were very cultured; they were certainly patrons of the arts, and the place is packed with paintings, many by Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was a friend of the family (he was brought up in Plympton, where his father was in charge of the school).

The big hearth, with its open range and roasting spits.

But, as with so many period houses, it’s the areas where the servants lived and worked that are the most unforgettable. There must have been an army of people employed here (in the house and on the land) to keep the family in such luxurious style, and it must have been such hard work. With no electricity, the only form of heat and light would have been open fires and candles, which must have created a lot of smoke and soot, so the maids must have been constantly sweeping and dusting and cleaning and polishing. There were clothes to be laundered and pressed, bedding to be regularly aired, acres of carpets to be beaten clean, and what seems like miles of woodwork to be polished.

Copper pans on the cooking range. This was state-of-the-art
kitchen equipment in the 1880s. The range would have been
buffed  to a shine with black lead.

In the kitchen a whole host of staff must have been kept busy cooking for the family, guests, themselves, and their fellow workers. The servants ate plain, filling fare made from cheap ingredients - the sumptuous dishes served up in the dining room were obviously considered to be far too good for them, and I guess there was the cost to be considered as well. Kitchen staff didn't just do the daily cooking. Sure, they baked and roasted and boiled and fried to produce meals for everyone, but there were no fridges or freezers remember, so food had to be preserved using traditional techniques, which were very labour intensive. There were jams, pickles, and chutneys to be made; meat to be cured, and fruit fruit to be bottled. Butter was churned here, and I am sure they would have made cheese as well. And on top of all that food preparation, there was cleaning to be done...

The original slow cooker: A hay box, used for long, slow
cooking in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

The kitchen was remodelled in 1913, but still has the great hearth and roasting spits, as well as open range installed around 1810, so you get a pretty good impression of what it was like working here a couple of hundred years ago. And the huge, cast-iron, coal-fired closed range which stands in the centre of the room also predates the early 20thC revamp, dating from 1885. There’s a pantry, a scullery, a butchery, a larder, and the most incredible collection of copper utensils I’ve ever seen – some 600 items ranging from minute intricately shaped sweet moulds up to gigantic, plain saucepans, and all gleaming like new pins. There were even copper sinks in the scullery for washing the pots and pans! Just imagine the scouring and polishing that must have gone on to keep it all in tip-top condition!  I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: progress is a wonderful thing where housework and cooking are concerned!

Dining in style - but this room was a long way from the kitchen.

There must have have been an awful lot of fetching, carrying, and lifting as well. I bet most of the staff ended up with back problems. They were cooking for vast numbers, and the pots and pans were enormous - they must have been so heavy when they were full of food. In addition, the kitchen quarters are a fair old distance from the family rooms (this is always the case at these places - the landed gentry didn't want to be disturbed by common things like cooking smells and noise). So food, and hot serving dishes and everything would have been carried backwards and forwards to the dining room, which must have been a task and a half. Makes you wonder how much stuff got dropped, spilt and broken!

No, it's not a giant's watering can - it's for filling baths
with water, and you have no idea how heavy it was!

But the worst job of all must have been carting hot water along the corridors and up the stairs to the bedrooms, where it was poured into 'hip' baths so the family, and their visitors, could wash themselves. And when they had finished, the dirty water had to be heaved away and disposed of!  Metal hot water cans, which look like watering cans for a giant's garden, were used to transport the water. When full, one of these containers weighed around 13kg, which is 28.7lbs, or just over 2 stones - and it took around six of them to fill a bath! It was one of the duties allocated to chambermaids, who were usually about 15 years old, and I cannot imagine how they coped. Neither my daughters nor I could lift the full can displayed in a sink in the scullery, and even the Man of the House struggled to move it, so how these young girls managed I just don't know. They must have staggered under the weight, and walked along with the hot metal can banging against their legs, which must have been permanently bruised, and hot water slopping over their feet. 

The family make a new friend!dd caption

The gardens and grounds would have been just as busy, for Saltram would have been pretty much self-sufficient, producing fruit and vegetables for the estate, raising animals and poultry on the estate farms to provide meat, milk and eggs, and even growing its own grain and brewing beer. Timber was grown on the estate woodlands and sold to shipyards and barrel makers in Plymouth, so foresters were employed, as well as men to work in the sawpit and the mill where wood was processed (though neither of these has survived). But the stables can be seen, as well-built as the house itself: top quality accommodation for top quality animals - race horses were bred here. 

In the pink! Waterlilies in the formal pool.

Exotic plants from all over the world can be seen in the formal gardens, which were largely developed in the 19thC, and are a joy to behold, with winding paths leading you through all kinds of little areas, and fabulous flowers and foliage, all very lush and green. 

The orangery. Isn't it beautiful?

There's an amazing orangery, built in 1773 in neo-Classical style - so says the Guide Book. I'm never sure exactly what that means, but it has pillars, and lots of glass windows, and is all in proportion. It looks like something from Versailles, and best of all, it is still used to over-winter citrus trees. How cool is that? We were tremendously excited to see little green fruits hanging from the branches (the trees were all lined up outside in the largest of large pots, and appeared to be thriving, despite the vagaries of the English weather). We so hope these are oranges, but one small, unripe citrus fruit looks much like another to us. However, the trusty Guide Book only mentions oranges, so I shall assume we have seen oranges growing outside an orangery, and that makes me happy!

Citrus fruit growing outside the orangery - you can see from
the water droplets that it was a bit rainy that day.

We even saw a ha-ha, a kind of ditch, running along the edge of the lawn in front of the house to separate it from the fields where cattle still graze, down at a lower level. I’ve read about ha-has, but don’t remember seeing one before, and there's a duck pond, as well as an ornamental pool with a fountain and water lilies. 

Don't push! Younger Daughter and the Man of the House
by the ornamental pool.

The house and its lands remained in the hands of the Parker family for more than 200 years. They were still here during the Second World War, when an American army unit set up camp in the grounds. But the property suffered bomb damage, the family fortune dwindled, and life changed - people were no longer prepared to spend a life of drudgery 'in service', and by the 1950s there only two servants left to look after the elderly fourth earl, who was childless, and his bachelor brother. So when the fifth earl succeeded, everything was transferred to the National Trust.

A shady spot in the garden.

Like all NT properties, it isn't cheap to go round, but the house is wonderful. There's masses to see, including photographs and portraits of the family, and lots of information about the way (and their servants) lived, with a special focus on the late 1700s and early 1800s.  And the gardens are an absolute delight - there are plenty of labels telling you what the plants are, which is nice if you are not much of a horticulturist. You could spend a day just roaming around outside, and I gather the remaining parklands have become a wildlife haven, with rare species of plants and animals, which I think is rather nice, but you need to know what are looking for.

Don't let Mum loose in the library - we'll never get her out!

We thoroughly enjoyed our day out, and saw so much it's hard to know what to write about. In addition to the house and garden there's a lovely little cafe, a shop, charming follies in the grounds, and the old chapel has been turned into a gallery for local artists and craftspeople. And there were second-handbooks stacked in one of the old stables. Just for once, I didn't find anything I wanted, but I thought it was a lovely touch. 

And so to bed!

Saturday Snapshots is hosted by West Metro Mummy - click to follow links and see photos from other paticipants.

Hooky Happiness

A rosy view of life...

Today Hooky Happiness is the order of the day… And half-finished hooky happiness at that. I love crochet. I’m not very good at it, but you get such quick, colourful results, and you can work the same designs in different yarns to produce a chunky flower or a delicate snowflake. And, as long as I’m not following a complicated pattern, I can sit and hook while I listen to a good play on Radio 4, and watch an old film, preferably in black and white. Something like Brief Encounter, or Casablanca. When it comes to books I like a happy ending, but when it comes to films I love sad love stories and, odd though it may sound, I really enjoy sitting weeping into my wool.

Squaring the Circle: I'm sill trying to decide how to
get straighter edges and corners on this!

But I think I must have a low boredom threshold, because I like to have several projects on the go at once, preferably in different colours and designs, so I can pick and choose depending on my mood. So, at the moment I’m working on a blanket for my elder daughter, all in shades of black, white and grey. It features a large circle, edged into a square, surrounded by five smaller ‘square circles’ to make lots of blocks. I’m going to join them so they’re offset, rather than is straight rows, and fill the gaps with more of the smaller ‘square circles.

 The design is from Dorien, at Just-Do, who gives lovely clear instructions (although you need to be aware that she uses American terminology, but it’s simple enough to write an English version, which is what I do, because otherwise I get confused). Her completed blanket is fabulous, in a rainbow of colours, and her technique is much better than mine. I must admit, I’m having problems with edging and corners on this one – I’d like it to be much sharper and more geometric looking. . I’ve put in an extra chain on my corners, as she only uses one, and I think it’s better with two – the crocheters (is there such a word?) among you will understand what I mean. Hopefully, I can steam or block into a better shape by damping it down and pinning it out, which is something I don’t usually bother with, but on this occasion I think it will help. However, I’m not sure whether to do each individual square, or create the larger six-piece shapes first. It calls for a bit of experimentation I think.

Work in Progress: I'm going to unpick the red edge,
and add another two squares, so I've got six in each
panel. And I might try some with navy instead of red.

Then I’m doing a very different blanket for my younger daughter (it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t do them one each!). This one is lovely and bright and cheerful, with lots of yellows and reds and turquoises, and I’m still fiddling around with the design, but basically I’m using traditional granny squares, and making them up into panels, edged with red. Grannies are very forgiving if you’re not always as accurate as you should be! 

Sitting Pretty!

And I’ve made a round rainbow cushion cover (thanks to Lucy at Attic 24 for the idea). This is so so easy to do: you just keep whizzing round and round, increasing as you go, and using colours that please you. My work buckled up now and again, but it was easy peasy to remedy – I just skipped an increase round, and did the same number of stitches as the previous time! Occasionally I had to unravel before I could put things right, but it was like magic! And I was surprisingly sensible, and kept track of what I’d done, so I had a pattern to follow when I hooked the back (using the same sea-greeny turquoise as the outer edging), so back and front are exactly the same size and shape. Clever, huh?!

Bead Feast!

Then I made a lovely, wavy, lacey edging, with glassy beads (threaded on to the wool at the start) which will probably make it most uncomfortable to sit on, but looks sooooo pretty – all shiny and glittery, which doesn’t really show in the photo. I’ve still got to stitch this together, but it was an absolute joy to work, and I’m going to try making another one, using lots of different stitches, like bobbles and clusters, to create texture and interest. 

Keeping Cosy!

Then there’s my cosy which has transformed a manky old plastic container into a handy hook holder, and is very environmentally friendly, and ideologically sound, because it uses oddments from the scrap stash, as well as something that was going to be thrown away. It’s so useful, and I’m so delighted with it, that I’m going to cover a collection of old jars in rainbow hues to store pens, pencils, scissors and all sorts of other things. 

Ring-a-Ring-a-Rosy.

Finally, more creations from the scrap stash…. little two layered flowers! Please don’t ask me what they are for, because I don’t know. I’ve made them before, for my Easter wreath, and a garland, so I am sure I can turn them into something – but basically I do these because they are so much fun, and I love them!

Snapshots of a Camera

This week's Saturday Snapshot is really special to me because it shows my Father's old camera. Dad died nearly seven years ago, just before Christmas, and this camera lay hidden in a cupboard for a long time because I felt tearful every time I looked at it. But recently I took it out and prised it open, and made a little display on a shelf, a kind of memory corner, with a couple of shots of Dad holding the camera, and a few of the pictures he took with it, and a photo of him and Mum at their wedding.

It's a No 1 Pocket Kodak Camera Autographic model manufactured by the Eastman Kodak company some time between 1926 and 1932, and it must have been old he acquired it (he was born in 1922) but it was his pride and joy for many years, and he kept it long after he stopped using it. Other cameras came and went over the years, with assorted lens, filters and flashlights, but this one  outstayed them all, and it must have meant a lot to him because he hung on to it, even though was (and is) unusable without some kind of restoration work being carried out.


Personally I think the name is a misnomer, because you'd never fit this into a pocket - the leather case is around 2mm thick, and it measures about eight inches, by four inches, by two inches, and is quite heavy. 

The concertina bit that pulls out is actually called a bellows, and now lets in little pinpoints of light along its edges and points, so there's no way you take pictures, because any film put through it would almost certainly be badly fogged and damaged by light, but film is still available which would fit it, and I would love to know if it could be repaired.   

The original film, which is no longer manufactured, could be written on with a beautifully decorated metal stylus which looks like a pen or pencil and is clipped to the side of the lens. Apparently the stylus slotted into into a hole, and could be used to write the date on a film, or the place where a photo was taken, or the name of the person in it.  people could write the date on the film (there is a little hole at the back that the  

The photos taken on it were all black and white (I guess no colour film was available in those days) and they were quite small, and some of them seem quite fuzzy, but the camera is surprisingly sophisticated, with variable shutter speed and all kinds of features. 

Dad loved taking photographs. The more complex a camera was, the more he liked it, and he took everything very seriously, checking the position of the sun, and his light meter, and the distance from his subject.  Sometimes he spent so long setting things up that we all got fed up, and would wander off, but it was worth being patient because he took some beautiful photos when we were on holiday, and lovely portraits of my brother and I when we were young, and of my daughters when they were small (but not on this camera, of course). 

Anyway, now I have the camera on display I find I can look at it and smile at the memory of Dad taking his pictures and think of how much pleasure it gave him.

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Melinda at West Metro Mummy.

The Great British Bake Off

Hurray! As I said on my other blog (The Book Trunk) on Wednesday, The Great British Bake Off is back, and promises to be every bit as good as the previous three series. The lovely Mary Berry is still there, every bit as nice as ever, even when she’s being nasty, and the gorgeous Paul Hollywood is still there, every bit as nasty as ever, even when he’s being nice (how does he manage to sound and look surprised when he likes something?). Sue Perkins and Mel Giedroyc are still there, every bit as funny as ever, and every bit as supportive as ever to the contestants who are also still there (obviously – without them there would be no show) and are every bit as innovative and emotional as ever. The only person missing so far is the Bake Off Squirrel, but he made a token appearance inside a cake (a replica sculpted from chocolate and nuts you understand, not the real thing – that would be silly, and cruel).

The Great British Bake-Off: Judges, presenters and contestants
line up ready for action.

It’s hard to explain to explain the allure of TGBBO to anyone has never watched it. It’s real edge-of-seat viewing, but it’s the reaction of these amateur cooks to their triumphs and disasters which makes for such gripping TV. And the comments of the judges, and their facial expressions, are just as wonderful. There’s no shouting, swearing or bitchiness. Laughter and tears are the order of the day, and everyone remains friendly and helpful. These are ordinary people who love cooking and are not seeking fame. They all want to win, but they’re philosophic about their chances: they know they can only do their best, and believe that what will be will be. It’s all very warm and gentle, and very understated in a very English kind of way, and I just adore it. I watch it, then watch it again… and again…

A cake fit for angels: Some contestants struggled with
Mary Berry's recipe for Angel Food Cake.

 Perhaps it’s a nostalgia thing. I grew up surrounded by people like this. My mother, and my aunt, and their friends, would cook and bake, and make jams and preserves, and try new recipes with new ingredients alongside the old family favourites – and there were always ‘special’ cakes for birthdays and other occasions. And they all belonged to gardening clubs and allotment associations, and if there were only a handful of entries in the cookery section they would dash home and whip up a quick batch of tarts or biscuits ‘to make a better showing’ for the public, even if ‘entries’ were added to the tables after judging was complete.

As far as GBBO goes, at the beginning of each series it always takes me a while to sort out who’s who and match the names to faces. Sometimes it takes a few weeks for the various ‘characters’ to develop and for my own favourites to emerge. This year I’m slightly more confused than usual because there are 13 competitors instead of 12, so there will be one week when two people must leave the tent. Actually, a Baker’s Dozen seems such an apt number for a programme about baking that I can’t understand why no-one has thought of it before.

Anyway, I’ll have no problem remembering Deborah the Dentist, because she is shorter than everyone else (like me!), and I feel a show of solidarity is required, but this may be tricky because I hate the way she pulls faces, especially when she doesn’t like what the judges say about her food. And I won’t forget Christine, because she has my name, or Howard, because he is a fellow migraine sufferer who can’t eat chocolate, which was unfortunate really, given that this week’s Showstopper was a decorated chocolate cake.  Actually, he turned out to be surprisingly adventurous and produced a gluten-free passion fruit and coconut sponge using rice flour and xanthan gum which, amazingly, won approval from Paul and Mary. 

Mary Berry: Nice, even when she's nasty!

Then there’s Frances, who designs children’s clothes and is obviously very creative. Her Victoria sandwich was – a sandwich! Served up in a paper bag made from moulded icing! I thought it was absolutely brilliant, and such a simple idea. And there’s Rob the Spaceman, who designs space satellites in Hertfordshire and approaches cookery as if it were an engineering project. He is incredibly scientific – thanks to him I now know about the crystalline structure of chocolate.

This week, as you may have gathered, was all about sponge cakes. For their signature bake contestants had to produce a classic Victoria Sandwich, with a novel twist of their own. Next up was the technical challenge: Angel Food Cake. Basically, this is a fatless sponge, and therein lie the problems. Do you grease the tin? And should the egg whites be beaten to stiff peaks or left soft? Finally, it was time for the Showstopper. A decorated chocolate sponge using at least two types of chocolate. Cocoa loco as Sue Perkins described it.   As ever, there was much gazing into ovens, and timers bleeped away in the background. There were injuries aplenty, and by the end everyone seemed to have acquired at least one blue plaster. There were tears of despair when things went wrong and smiles of delight when things went right. Items were dropped, lost, over-baked, under-baked and unfinished. But there were moments of sheer perfection when everything worked out exactly as it should.

As always, I found myself wondering if some contestants had actually watched the old programmes, let alone taken note of them. Why put yourself through the heartache of producing something which has already proved to be a Bad Idea? Take heed bakers, things involving strawberries or rhubarb have a tendency to fall into this category because the fruit leaks moisture into the cake. And Paul doesn’t like strong flavours, especially rose. And anything that smacks of the seventies is a bit of a no-no (remember Brendan last year). 

Paul Hollwood: Nasty, even when he's nice!

Odd recipes included a grapefruit sponge (which got a thumbs-up from Paul, who didn’t expect to like it) and a thyme infused chocolate cake. Odd equipment included balloons (for Rob’s choccie baskets), while Mark, a kitchen fitter, called for Selloptape to stick a chocolate wrap around the edge of his cake! Hopefully, he wasn’t serious, but you never know with GBBO. He was also memorable for telling us he planned to carve his Victoria sponge so it would look like a lemon ‘if all goes well’. Naturally, it didn’t, and it didn’t, if you see what I mean. It’s tempting fate to make statements like that.

If you’re planning to catch-up at a later date, and don’t want to know who was Star Baker, stop reading now – there are SPOILERS ahead! The accolade was awarded to… long pause to heighten the suspense… Spaceman Rob, whose cakes looked much too beautiful to eat, but apparently tasted absolutely delicious and that, after all, is the whole point of any cake.

First to go (don’t forget SPOILER alert is still active!) was Toby, a dishevelled young man with an engaging smile and a puzzled expression, who lost his ‘thingy’ at the start and never really found it. His Victoria sandwich was OK, but his technical bake was more devilish than angelic, since he used salt instead of sugar (John, who made a similar mistake last year, went on to win, but Toby’s days in the tent were numbered). By the end of the programme he had cut both thumbs, making it awkward to work but, as Paul pointed out, that doesn’t affect how long you leave something in the oven. No sympathy vote there then!  Gazing upon Toby’s chocolate disaster Paul, never one to mince his words, gave his verdict: “It’s a mess.” It must have tasted pretty horrid as well because Mary, anxious to say something positive, thought very hard, gave her kindly smile, and announced in happy tones: “It’s three layers are exactly matching.” 

Star quality! Spaceman Rob was the first Star Baker of the
new series.

However, even she found it impossible to say anything nice about Ali’s effort. Her remarks are always well tempered (unlike some of the chocolate adorning this week’s masterpieces) but she told him his Showstopper looked ‘a little bit childish’, which was pretty tough for her. Then, obviously feeling remorse, she sweetened the pill by adding: “You’re sad about this, and we are too.” That’s part of the charm of GBBO. Mary and Paul love cooking, and they want us to take pleasure in it too, and when things go wrong they don’t tell people off – they are sad! All pictures from The Great British Bake Off website at http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b013pqnm 

Make Hay While the Sun Shines

eep your fingers crossed for lots of sunshine today, because according to an old weather forecasting rhyme, used by country folk long before meteorologists came into being:

If the first of July be rainy weather,

‘Twill rain, more or less, for four weeks together.

Most of this old weather lore seems to revolve around attempts to predict bad weather. I suppose people must have marked the seasons by looking for patterns in the weather, watching the behaviour of animals and birds, and noting when plants bloomed or seeded. When you’re dependent on harvesting crops so you have enough food to see you through the winter, then I guess it’s really important to know what kind of weather lies ahead – after all, bad weather meant the harvest as ruined, and that meant no food.

The month was named in honour of Julius Caesar – before that it was known as Qunitilis, or the fifth month (the Roman year started on March 1). And Caesar’s reformed calendar was used throughout Europe, until it was superceded by the improved Gregorian system in the 18th Century. 

Traditionally, it was the hay-making month, and was consequently known to the early Anglo Saxons as Hegmonath, and if you look at illustrations from those wonderful Medieval Book of Hours manuscripts you find that pictures for July invariably show peasants out in the fields, cutting golden grass with their scythes – like this one from the 15th Century Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry. I just love that glorious blue, and the two men hard at work with their clothes as faded as the sun-bleached field. 

Hay was especially important, because it provided fodder for animals: if the grasses failed to thrive and ripen then animals starved to death, which was disastrous. And if the hay wasn’t cut and protected before bad weather set in, and it got even a little bit damp, it would go mouldy and make the animals ill. The expression ‘making hay while the sun shines’, must have been coined when it was vital to seize the opportunity and gain benefit from harvesting dry, ripe hay while you could, and is still in use today.

In Tudor times,when Thomas Tusser wrote his Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry (all in rhyming couplets – just imagine the effort involved in that) hay-making was still the most i portant task of the month for farmers. He tells us:

Go, sirs, and away,

To ted, and make hay.

 If storms draw nigh,

Then cock apace, cry.

Let hay still bide,

Till well it be dried.

(Hay made) away carry,

No longer then tarry.

For centuries hay-making was one of the big events of the farming year, with whole communities turning out to help, and suppers provided by landowners when it was all gathered in – similar to the harvest suppers laid on later in the year. It also inspired writers and artists. Think of the hay-making scene in Thomas Hardy’s ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’, or this painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder, packed with activity. Look closely, and you can see all kinds of activity going on. I particularly like the man sharpening his scythe, on the left-hand side of the picture, and the people who look like aliens with spiky heads, who are actually carrying hay in baskets on their heads.

Anyway, if you want to celebrate the first day of July, you could mow the grass - after all it is the haymaking month! If that's too energetic, take a gentle stroll through a field of long grass and wildflowers... Or read 'Far From the Madding Crowd'.... or the Edward Thomas poem 'Haymaking'... And listen to Catatonia, 'Make Hay Not War', which is really called 'Dead from the Waist Down', and you'll find it here, with a fabulous video heavily influenced by The Wizard of Oz, Worzel Gummidge and goodness knows who else...