At last - the photos of Penshurst.....

And they're really rather good.

We were taken to Penshurst straight from the airport (Gatwick) and given lunch there before touring the gardens Once again I was struck how people give voice to things that, even were I to think them,  I would never let pass my lips. In this case it was the woman who pouted at me 'Oh, you've taken the last sandwich in brown bread'. She said this in a tone of some  accusation which really quite surprised me. The sandwiches were on a large platter and were being passed down the table and reached me before they got to her although, given that she was sitting opposite the plate was readily visible to us both. I took two sandwiches and passed down the plate only for her to say the thing about the last brown sandwich.

Now had our positions been reversed I would have shrugged to myself and thought that I'd rather have had brown but I would make do with white. I certainly wouldn't have expressed a disappointment verging on anger to the person who had just innocently picked up a sandwich off a plate. All she needed to do was say, before I made my selection, oh I see there's only one brown one left, could you leave that for me? Or failing that, swallow her disappointment rather than be so rude. It wasn't a case of her needing brown bread, that would have been another thing, but we had all had an opportunity to give any dietary requirements to the organiser long before the trip ever began and there were separate plates fro some folk accordingly.

 

And being a bit too think skinned for my own good I got very defensive and prickly which is what  I do when faced with inexplicable rudeness, which became a bit of a default position for the rest of the time. Have I said we're not really group travellers....? I think I may have mentioned it in passing!

 

Anyway I had forgotten quite how nice Penshurst was until these photos arrived. The garden tour took so long that we passed on the opportunity to see inside the house as we'd only have had about 20 minutes which is ridiculous for a place of that size and interest, and should we ever find ourselves in Sussex again we'll try and see it properly.

 

 

And it seems five is all you get because the computer is resolutely refusing to allow me to upload any more just now.

 

And that finally completes our adventures in Sussex apart from the story of the very suave lawyer type I was sat next to for dinner at Glyndebourne. He  really should learn not to make assumptions about people, and/or to adhere to that law of polite society that decrees that religion and politics should not be discussed at the dinner table.

 

'Of course' he informed me ' we did a lot of work for the No campaign locally'.

'Mmm' said I. 'We worked for Yes ourselves. Perhaps we should just leave it there?'

 

I've never seen an expression on anyone's face that so encapsulated the concept of flummoxed. Presumably in his book independence supporters were 'poor, wee and stupid'. He obviously never dreamed he would encounter any at the opera.

 

How can people be bothered.....?

Today, because we are soon going away again, and because my nail gel had finally started to chip quite badly on my right hand, I went and had the gel taken off and replaced with normal nail varnish. I'd already decided to have the varnish rather than gels again, but if I hadn't the experience of getting the gel taken off would have made my mind up for me. It took ages.

The dark red gel has now ben replaced with a glittery light copper varnish which is a lovely colour but because the girl wouldn't put the heat and blow-y thing on to dry them I managed to smudge the right forefinger on my way out of the salon and my right thumb when I was getting out of the car when we got back to the house. So I was a bit cross.

 

Also  really couldn't cope with doing that getting the gel thing off every 3 or 4 weeks, so although I loved having it on I'll be saving it in future for very special occasions.  Too time consuming, too expensive and really  just not me. I'm not someone who feels that the beauty salon is her natural milieu somehow.

 

Basically I should have got all this out of my system when I was a teenager or a student, but I was less frivolous then than I am now!

Herstmonceux and Rye

The Penshurst pictures are, I am assured, on their way but meanwhile here are a few from our morning at Herstmonceux.

I have always pronounced this 'airstmonsur' in my mind but down in Sussex they say Hurstmonnsoo and as that's where it is they must know. The OH was of course very disappointed that there is really nothing left from the days when it was a Royal Observatory Site, although  there is a science centre there. However our break was called Opera and the Gardens of Sussex  or some such so we weren't there to see the science centre. 

 

It was a cold grey day in autumn but even so the gardens were fun. Like the other two we visited, they were split up into themed areas and although I expect they are much nicer to visit on a warm dry day when there are lots of flowers in  bloom I still enjoyed them.

 

A few pictures

 

 

Yup, it has a moat. It's really nice.

 

Virginia Creeper. I once went to a school whose walls were covered in this. It wasn't posh, but it did have a quadrangle.

 

An orrery. Love them. There is also an absolutely huge sundial, but it's so huge it's difficult to take a satisfactory photograph.

 

A statue from Zimbabwe. I never found out quite why but there are a lot of these dotted about. I rather took to them - difficult to say why. It would sound stupid if I said it was because they were so still, but some statues have a sense of movement. These had a sense of serene stillness. That's as close as I can get.

 

A rather bored peacock. Possibly he was a bit put out by the state of his tail. It certainly wasn't at its shimmering best.

 

I have no photos of the inside so maybe inside pictures were once again verboten. I don't remember. I do remember we had a soup and sandwich lunch there and that the tomato and basil soup should perhaps have been renamed basil and tomato. That said it was an interesting place to go.

 

I thought that Herstmonceux was the same day as we visited Rye but it can't have been as I do remember that the day we went to Rye the first thing we did when we fell off the coach was find somewhere to have lunch. We went to almost the first place we saw too, largely because it was called The Runcible Spoon which just appealed. The service was slow but the food was good. However should you ever be in Rye and find The Runcible Spoon jam packed, do not fret, because I have never visited anywhere with as many places to eat in as Rye has. I would say at least 50% of the retail units in the main streets are cafes or restaurants of one sort or another. Assuming you,re solvent, you need  never starve in Rye.

 

Of course we should have gone to see The Mermaid Inn and Lamb House where Henry James once lived but we didn't. Lest you should now think we are uncultured plebs of the first order I hasten to point out that we have been to Rye before, attended an all day function at The Mermaid where, to encourage us to leave, they switched off the heating at 4.00 pm although we weren't scheduled to finish until 5.00, and saw the outside of Lamb House. Since I am not a fan of either Henry James or E F Benson the outside was enough.

 

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with some Christmas cards that need writing as they are destined for overseas.

 

Whooosh!

Life is happening faster than I can blog it just now which explains why I am catching five minutes just to say I'm stil here and golly is that the time?

I know I haven't finished our adventures in Sussex, I haven't mentioned the UHI Postgrad conference, nor the new living room that greeted me when I got back, we were back in Glasgow doing exciting, mainly Scottish Opera related things last week and this time next week I'll be packing to go to Stockholm. After which we have a visitor straight away and then it will be about two weeks to Christmas....

 

Will I be ready? I expect so, it usually pans out OK although as I like to poit out to Certain People who shall be nameless it only pans out OK because I run around like a headless chicken making it so.

 

Meanwhile I'll be back tomorrow, and if I've had the pictures sent to me it will be Penshurst at last. Otherwise it might be something rather less exciting1

Project 60 - Number 39 - Glyndebourne

And although I didn't make a definitive list for Project 60, if I had then going to Glyndebourne would be on it. Because if you live in the British Isles and you're an opera lover wanting to go to Glyndebourne is a given. Which is why,  despite the fact that we had already been away more than was good for us this year, when we saw the advert back in April for the trip to Glyndebourne we signed up.

 

It wasn't the Summer Festival where you have to go in black tie and long dresses and arrive with your ancient family picnic hamper full of coronation chicken and vintage champagne (let's be honest, we're never going to make it to that, since the nearest we have to an ancient family picnic hamper is a green canvas picnic set that I got free with a purchase from Cotton Traders) No this was the Autumn Tour, which is an odd moniker considering that they're not touring but performing in the Glyndebourne Opera House as per. However this is the precursor to the tour; same production, same singers, just bedding in before being taken on the road.

 

Normal caveats apply in house about taking photographs ie you can't, but you can take them outside so voila

 

 

No I have no idea what the horses head is all about either!

 

Sadly both times when we arrived  it was too late in the day to wander round the gardens. so we had perforce to content ourselves with the art exhibition and the gift shop. In the gift shop I was not impressed with the fridge magnets, to the extent that I didn't even buy one, although I did invest in a couple of postcards and two tins of mints.

 

That being said we went for the opera, so how was that? The first night we saw their first ever Madam Butterfly, which was a strange production in some ways, but perfectly palatable. The Korean girl singing Butterfly was excellent; the first Butterfly ever to bring tears to my eyes during Un Bel Di. This is partly because in my mind that aria is inextricably entwined with the loss of the Scottish Independence Referendum, and as such upsets me regardless, but to imply that that was all it was would be to do a disservice to the young soprano, who truly was very very good.

 

The next night was Don Giovanni, which we had seen quite recently at Drottningholm and this was I think better. Donna Anna was sung by the same singer as at D which was interesting. Glyndebourne is of course renowned for its Mozart which probably accounts for this being streets better than the Butterfly overall. It was a very energetic and spirited performance that I enjoyed very much.

 

But here's the thing. Going to Glyndebourne is such a Big Thing, and I had built it up in my head as something that would be totally unforgettable. In the event, it was a bit of an anti-climax. Especially for the Butterfly for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling of 'It's just another venue for putting on an opera'. It didn't say 'special' to me in the way that say Sydney Opera House does. No buzz, no excitement, everyone was just a trifle blasé. I suppose this is what happens when the audience becomes more important (or consider themselves more important) than the opera.

 

Pleased I've been? Oh yes. Would I go again? Actually, no.

Project 60 - Number 38 Buying Boots

 

 

This is another thing that most people would have expected me to have done lots of times before I hit the ripe old  age of  60, but I truly hadn't.

 

As a teenager I went to buy a pair of boots when all my friends were out buying theirs and it was a disaster. The combination of wide feet, a high instep and chubby calves meant that even attempting to get boots on was nothing but an embarrassment.

 

Times having moved on it seems a little easier now. I bought the boots shown above last week while I was in Glasgow. They are from Hotter who do wider fitting shoes and boots which took care of the feet issue, and as they are ankle  boots it doesn't matter that my calves are still fairly chubby. The high instep was still a bit of a problem, but a combination of buying a size bigger than I normally would, and choosing a style that incorporates side zips solved that one.

 

I am sorry that the colour reproduction on this picture doesn't show their true colour, as they are a rather fetching shade of aubergine. I love them and have hardly taken them off since they were bought. Presumably the novelty will eventually wear off.