An August weekend away

Seeing as it’s been greyer than grey for the past few days, I thought I’d stay back in time, for a bit of colour and something a bit different from the late January gloom outside. I know I always say it every time I post pictures from my father-in-law’s house in the Cotswolds, but why we don’t go here more often is beyond me. I think it has something to do with the fact that we have an only child, so with him in mind we try to go with friends when we do go, which takes a bit more planning. Anyway, last time we went we arrived a few hours earlier than our friends, so I walked around the house taking pictures.

Nice, isn’t it? My interior taste is changing and I’d love more old stuff in our house too. Actually, we’ve inherited two of these style mirrors - I just don’t notice them anymore. Do you find that too? That you can’t see your surroundings properly, a bit like being snow blind at home?

To be honest I am a bit in this house as well. It wasn’t until S, who had never been there before, said how photogenic it all was (she’s an interiors nut like me too), showing me the pictures she’d just taken of it, that I realised that I should pay a bit more attention to it again.

Like this fireplace. Why have I never noticed this red brick beauty before? I know I’ve noticed the newspapers jammed into it, but not the thing itself.

And who have we here? Bella, that’s who. A new addition to the H family and very well she behaved too. She’d finally gotten over her manic puppy phase from the last time I saw her.

And yes, of course we went on our usual walk. This time Mr Famapa pointed out the skeleton on one of the headstones. Can you see it? Bella clearly didn’t.

I love this tree and how it hugs the ground exactly right. Surely someone must be trimming it to be like that?

Along the walk the blackberries were already out and kept us full. Thank you nature.

Ahhh, so nice to see this green again, and to also know that it will come back in a few months time. I’ll lose my winter swimming, but I’ll gain SPRING.

On the way back from the walk there’s two ways to come down the hill; the sensible one (my personal choice)

or the steeper one, that some people can’t not run down. I’m just too scared that I’ll twist my ankle or something stupid, and seeing that when I last twisted my ankle, it took 10 months before I could go out running again, I ain’t taking my chances.

Just by the front door of the house there’s a few plants, cheerily welcoming you home, and this rose was a rather color delicioso.

And next summer I better plant some Cosmos in our plant border at home, or I’ll be very cross with myself.

Tea for three and three for tea

Celebrated my 46th birthday in August, and Mr Famapa had booked afternoon tea at Sketch as a surprise. We went there for my 40th as well, and the David Shrigley art on the wall has changed since then. I watched a live Art Fund webinar on Art and Humour the other night, and he was one of the panelists. I really like how his brain works.

There were so many birthday gatherings in there, so I guess some live music elevated the atmosphere. I don’t often find myself in a place where there’s say, a bar pianist, or like here a little string trio, but when I do I feel really awkward. Do you? The sight of patrons just continuing with their eating, drinking and conversations, as if the musicians aren’t there tenses me up, and how no one claps when they’ve finished. But then, as a musician, especially with the crappy two years we’ve had, I’d assume you’d be very happy to be out playing again, even if the all the mfs in the room don’t acknowledge you, haha. Anyway, we stuffed ourselves full, and I love any foods that come in small portions and that you can switch up flavour wise as you wish. I also like that you can order more of anything that you especially like. I think Oomoo managed to eat the most, he being a growing lad and all.

The atmosphere was more enjoyable than on previous visits, as it felt like people were genuinely pleased about being able to go somewhere for a treat again. Less selfies, more talking.

This dude found my picture taking quite annoying last summer. I see his point, but he’s seems to be over it now. Phewf.

Shrigley’s stuff isn’t just on the wall, it’s also on the table, and if you have cash to burn you can buy it.

Too steep for me though. Haha - get it? Steep? Tea joke.

The staff are really nice in here and not snooty at all. And I love the interior (by India Mahdavi) and am glad that it’s still there. I think there was talk of it changing a while back, but I think the proprietors realised that you shouldn’t kill off such a popular design too hastily. At least this is a good design that happens to be Instagrammable, rather than an interior that’s been put together solely for the purpose of people posting from there (neon? check. plastic flowers? check. mirrors? check. pastel colours? check.). Gosh, I sound like a very grumpy lady today… No idea why, but piss off if you don’t like it. JOKE JOKE

The cloakroom on the way out. I like it a lot.

You know, I’ve never paid attention to the actual building before, but it’s very clearly Georgian with the fanlight window above the entrance (and the exterior of course!). I’d love to see the face of whoever owned it back then, seeing what’s happened to it since. Speaking of which, I looked up our house on the census from 1921 the other day, and there was a family of three living here then, but all the age of what we will be this year (50/47/13). How crazy is that?! Charles Carter worked as a bank cashier and Kate Carter’s occupation is down as “Home Duties”, and they had a daughter called Jean. They also had a live-in servant at that point which is such a strange concept, but much more common in the old days. I’m assuming the help slept in the study, where I am now, in the smallest room of the house? They would’ve just lived through a pandemic too, which is another crazy coincidence. I also checked out the 1911 census, and they lived here then too, but without the servant. I would love to know what the house looked like then. There’s a brilliant BBC series, A House Through Time, that finds out about all the tenants who’ve lived in a particular house, and then gives their lives a historical context. You can watch the latest series here (another programme I watched when I had Covid). It’s such a brilliant idea, and fascinating too. I wonder if the Carters, a hundred years ago, also celebrated birthdays with afternoon tea. I’d like to think they did.

A walk in Ramsgate

Like I said in the earlier post; at one point in our Ramsgate stay I went out for a walk on my own to have a look around. These stairs led the way from the marina walk up to the top of the cliff above.

I had no real idea of where I was going, apart from that I wanted to find the house that Vincent Van Gogh stayed in when he worked as a teacher at an all boys school here in 1876, in the years when he was trying to find his way, before he devoted himself completely to painting. It’s really interesting to walk around somewhere unfamiliar on your own, it feels slightly surreal, but also adventurous? Maybe one day I should go on a trip on my own, just for a different experience. I remember decades ago, when I used to work on a magazine, and I had to go to Folkestone for the day to take pictures. It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. Not for any reason in particular; just the strangeness of being somewhere new, with no one else to share it with.

Even as seed heads poppies are so beautiful - aren’t they?

A Victorian wind shelter being used.

I had no idea where I was going at this point. I just followed my nose. This flint stone church looked really impressive.

The Granville, a huge Victorian Gothic style hotel that was converted into flats in 1947. Apparently the tower used to be even higher, but got truncated at some point. So quirky!

This sign above the entrance to the Ramsgate Tunnels caught my eye. I mean, how could it not? The Ramsgate Tunnels used to be part of the Victorian railway, that went straight out of London to the Granville Hotel. In WW2, on today’s date in 1940, 500 bombs were dropped over Ramsgate, destroying over 1,200 houses, and as a result about 300 families moved into the tunnels, that had already been added to so it could function as an air raid shelter. People lived there for the next five years, turning it into a subterranean town with shops, barbers, an underground hospital, and it even held concerts. You can see old footage of what it was like here.

The Pulhamite rock garden on Madeira Walk, built to entice holiday makers to spend more time in the town. Pulhamite rocks are in fact not rocks, but rubble and cement put together to look like natural rock.

And to our 21st century eyes it’s obvious that they’re fake.

How’s this for a mishmash of styles? And why is the brown and pink house turned on an angle like that?

Getting closer to the Van Gogh house now. I thought this Art Deco (I’m assuming) block of flats looked cool.

And this former deli, now a house, looked interesting too. Look at all them vintage pendant lights innit.

Knitted ice cream bunting. Well I never.

Saw a few of these flint houses. This one was the cutest.

And, the colour of this pub got my approval.

Tadaa! And here it is - Vincent’s old digs. I don’t know if you can see them though the curtains on the ground floor, but there was a vase full on sunflowers there. Like an homage.

And from sunflowers to weeds. I was out for a lot longer than I though I would be, so I started on my way back to the house via the marina. You have to admire weeds for being able to grow pretty much anywhere, like through the cracks of the marina wall.

Time for reflection.

And finally, these strangers, having some fish and chips, with a seagull eyeing them up.

Dreamy Ramsgate

Hey peeps. How’s summer been treating you? Ok I hope - despite everything? I’ve found it a bit strange and melancholy. I didn't feel comfortable or quite frankly flush enough to go abroad, and the successive lockdowns feels like it’s quashed most of what was our social life. But hey, there has been some good things too, and good people, and some new places to discover much closer to home. At the beginning of July me and Mr Famapa headed down to Ramsgate to visit some friends for the day, and being there was positively exotic.

So exotic that for some people it was perfectly acceptable to walk around with your shirt off. Well I guess we were by the sea, so why not?

Ahh the sea. I mean is this a view or is this a view? Our friends house is a truly eccentric beauty (more on that later), which they have done up beautifully . We thought we were only coming for lunch, but it turns out there was a miscommunication, and we were expected to stay the night. Luckily Oomoo was already on a sleepover, but unluckily I didn't have my glasses with me, or spare contact lenses.

So we hopped on bikes and cycled into the town centre, where at an optician’s I was kindly given some extra contact lenses for free (people can be so nice!!), and then got ourselves toothbrushes and everything else we needed from the chemist to see us through the night. At least I brought my camera, eh?

Lucky us though, because it meant we got to spend the night in this beautiful bed, with the view in the picture with the view that is a view.

The house used to be a photographer’s studio in the late 1890’s, and was built straight onto the cliff wall, as in the back of the house is the cliff wall.

And the whole front wall into the dining and living room area is just glass, with the most amazing light, or silhouettes - whichever you prefer.

A & E have impeccable taste, and I love how they salvaged a broken table football into a cool piece of wall art.

When they found the property it had been on the market for over a year, and I’m so glad they were the ones who got it, as they have turned into such a great space, with utmost respect to the house.

Yes, that view again.
Sorry (not sorry).

The lady of the manor, making me miss having short hair.

And this has to be the nicest shower room I’ve ever seen! Imagine the daily joy of looking out to a different seascape every day. Sigh.

Remember how I said the house was an eccentric beauty? Well, through a door from the utility room, off the kitchen, you come out into a set of tunnels that were old smugglers caves. There’s also a staircase in the rock wall that goes up to a hotel at the top of cliff, that Queen Victoria used to use (amongst other less historical hotel guests - all though probably not at the same time) to access the sea easier. In its heyday Ramsgate was a very popular sea resort, but the town has lost its glamour since the advent of charter holidays, like almost all British seaside towns.

Ironically, since I’m now a cold water lover, swimming in the North Sea is much more alluring now than any tropical beach. At one point in the day I took my camera out for a walk to check out the town and have a look at the architecture, but that’s a whole other post in itself.

Please don’t poo on me.

When I got back from my walk the house was asleep. All that sea air seemed to have tired everyone else out. As we didn’t know that we were staying over I hadn’t brought my book with me, so I had a look in the book shelves for something to read. To my surprise and relief I found the book I was reading! ‘Great Expectations’ by the brilliant Mr Charles Dickens. I managed to find where I was in it, but I also for some reason read the blurb on the back - which gave away the ending - doh. It was an old copy of the book, which might’ve explained why the publishers thought it was a good idea to do so, but a blurb should never give away the ending, right?

A had earlier in the day bought this puzzle in a bric a brac shop, and while I was away it had been put together, but with Ireland missing. A puzzling mystery indeed.

Once everyone woke up from their naps, we cycled to a pub for pre-dinner drinks in a nice spot by some sort of shallow pool and views across the sea (not in this direction obviously). Our phones thought we were in France and pinged with messages telling us so. If nothing else, my phone has at least been abroad this year.

Cycling back to the house.

Had to lie down for a bit and rest my legs and feet, from the walk and the bike rides.

A putting the finishing touches to our dinner that he had cooked outside in the wood fire oven.

The following morning, with the tide in, me and A went for a swim (I had at least packed my bathing suit!) in the +16c water, which was a perfect temperature. I stopped swimming in the Ladies Pond when the temp got to +19c in early June, as it was like swimming in soup and way too busy for my liking. But here in the sea we were the only ones in it, with people looking at us like we were crazy, or as one lady said as we got out to A: ‘Can I touch you? You must be Superman swimming in that cold water!’ A perfect way to end our 24hrs in Ramsgate - which now looking back on it felt a bit like a dream. Everything worked out perfectly, without us being prepared, and it made me realise how good it can feel to not have everything planned. To go with the flow. Must remember that as we head into an autumn/winter, wondering what’s coming next.