Wednesday, July 30, 2008

The Chiswell Walled Garden

I have written about Chesil Beach before...that thirty-five foot high wall of rocks that protects the causeway connecting the Isle of Portland to the mainland. That protection, however, is not infallible. When Mother Nature is having a really bad day, she is capable of sending waves over the top of that bank. Modern day engineers have constructed massive retaining walls made of wire, rock-filled cages and channels designed to divert the water away from homes and roadways. But the history of the Chiswell Walled Garden goes back to a time before the engineers showed up.

Since the 1600's, stone quarrying has supported the families of Portland. In 1804, one of those most prosperous families built a fine stone house, Jacobean in style, there in the village of Chesilton with only Chesil Beach to protect it from the Atlantic Ocean. Just twenty years later, the Great Gale of 1824 swept over the Chesil Bank, taking the lives of twenty-six residents and making 180 homes uninhabitable. Some of the homes were eventually rebuilt, but the 1804 Jacobean was not. For years it sat in ruins, right in the middle of the village that grew up around it. Part of it was demolished to widen the main road through town. In the 1940's, it was converted into a concrete air-raid shelter. In the 1960's, it became a public urinal.


Today, however, thanks to community efforts, it stands as a lovely garden. The exterior walls have been rebuilt while vestiges of the original interior walls still stand, as does a fireplace. The roof is open. Volunteers maintain the garden for the enjoyment of the public...a place of remembrance and reflection.


Moments like this make me glad to be keeping a journal. Without it, the ten minutes I spent exploring this garden would soon have slipped from memory. (Perhaps it was the possibility of a good blog post that led me in there in the first place!) But years from now when I reread these entries, I'll be grateful to revisit this garden and to remember the citizens who created it.

The Naming Ceremony

We have been in this hotel for going on three weeks now, and when you see the same people day after day, it's only natural that some kind of relationship develops. I am friends now with two Jennies; one Jenny usually does up our room, and the other works breakfast. It's breakfast Jenny that I want to write about today.

We were hoping for a lovely day on Sunday, as that was the day of her new grandson's naming ceremony. It was to be held outdoors, down on one of the terraced lawns overlooking Chesil Beach. The day turned out perfect...sunny and warm. Today Jenny brought pictures and other mementos of the event to show me, and I was delighted to see them. First of all, I had never heard of a naming ceremony. Reading the printed program, I decided that it was sort of like a christening but less formal...perhaps a bit less ecclesiastical. The chaplain who conducted the ceremony made references to God, but readings took the place of prayers. Instead of godparents, young William got mentors, a couple who committed to staying involved in his life and helping to steer him down the straight and narrow. The friends and family who gathered as witnesses were likewise charged with similar responsibility.


Following the ceremony, lunch was served. Jenny had prepared for each guest a white paper bag (the fold-up kind with a paper handle) and attached William's hand and foot prints, printed in blue ink, to the sides of the bags. Sandwiches, crisps, fruit, sweets, and a beverage were all in there...a proper Sunday picnic. Everyone sat on blankets spread out on the grass and enjoyed a lovely day together.


Some day those pictures, that white paper bag with his hand and foot prints on it, and the program that his grandmother saved for him should be very meaningful for William.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Monday Quilt Group

Today I had the pleasure of sitting and stitching with three English ladies...a group that has been meeting in each other's homes every Monday for more than twenty years! Pam, today's hostess, was hand quilting a Project Linus quilt that will be given to someone in need of such a special gift. Jenny was doing a bit of applique on a block with flowers, ribbons, and a butterfly. Pat was doing some English paper piecing, a very labor intensive method but with dazzling results. I took my basket quilt and did some hand quilting. We all brought our sandwiches, and once our lunch break was over we went for a walk in Pam's lovely garden. She has perennials mostly and quite a variety of them. She also has a greenhouse where a bumper crop of grape tomatoes is starting to produce. The fish pond was covered by a layer of lily pads and their beautiful purple blossoms. I stayed until about two-thirty and then ran to catch the #5 bus back into town. I was delighted to be invited to join them again next week at Jenny's...looking forward to that.

A Trip to Portsmouth

Portsmouth is the home of the Royal Navy and final resting place of three of England's most famous battle ships. On Sunday we drove over to have a look. Pictured here is the HMS Victory, launched in 1765, and still the flagship of the Royal Navy. Among the most notable names from her illustrious past are Admiral Lord Nelson and the Battle of Trafalgar. We also boarded the HMS Warrior, whose design and steam engine power were considered leading edge technology in 1860. The Mary Rose, who sank on her maiden voyage, lay at sea for 437 years awaiting the technology needed to raise her. Still to this day she is kept wet with a continuous spray of special preservative liquid until restoration can begin in 2009. In addition to the ships, there are several museums devoted to British naval history. It is an impressive site in a lovely city, one that merits another visit.

On the way home, we made a stop at the seaside village of Poole, where we walked along the waterfront and saw some incredible speed boats...Sunseeker Yachts...proof that naval architecture is still alive and well in this country!

Portland Walks

We continue to enjoy our daily walks around Portland. Limestone quarries are still in operation around the island, and there are several historic displays showing how quarrying was done years ago. A creature whom history has not treated too kindly in these parts is the poor rabbit, considered a symbol of bad luck. Even saying the "R" word is considered a tempt of fate. The island is blanketed in brambles and, like Br'er Rabbit of Uncle Remus fame, that species' preferred habitat. The only time rabbits are seen outside the brambles is when they sense the earth moving, usually associated with the collapse of a quarrying operation. While we often see evidence of their presence, yesterday we saw our first actual rabbits...five of them. No catastrophe to report...yet!

Our Townhouse

On Saturday we were able to have a look at the townhouse in Weymouth. It is booked by the week during the busy summer season, but starting late in September we can rent it for the rest of our stay. It's in a great location: a short drive to Dwight's office and an easy walk to everything for me. Kellaway Court is part of the restored Brewer's Quay complex, right in the middle of Weymouth's historic harbor district with its scenic walks and great restaurants. The train station and major retail areas are within a mile.
The main entrance is a few steps up from our parking space and has an outside table on a small walled terrace. The first floor has a large and well-appointed kitchen and the dining room. The second floor has the lounge (we would call it a living room) with fireplace and balcony as well as a full bath and a small bedroom. The third floor has two more bedrooms and another full bath. (Lots of steps to help cancel out those slices of French cake from right across the square!) We will be very comfortable in our English home and look forward to getting settled in when we return in September.

Fascinators

Any men readers have permission to skip this post, as it will most likely be of no interest whatsoever. I do want to document, however, a fashion item I have never seen in America, the "fascinator". A fascinator is worn in or on the hair, but it's less than a hat. The picture here just shows three of them, as I wanted a close-up, but in a store, a whole section of the accessories department would be devoted to them. There would be a variety of colors and styles to match most any ensemble. While they are all dramatic in some way, some are more "froufrou" than others, with the top of the scale being those with the longest and most plumes. When I was in Debenham's today (Weymouth's version of Dillard's) there was a pair of pre-teen girls mesmerized by them and picking out their favorites. Our friend Marilyn, whose daughter is being married next month, will wear one to the wedding. Their appeal here seems to be universal. I wonder whether they will show up on the American fashion scene.
This just in: My "fashionista" friend Connie says that the character played by Sarah Jessica Parker in "Sex and the City" wore a fascinator, a bright teal one, in the wedding scene. Be watching for them at a store near you!
More just in: Cousin Gina reports that Red Hatters are also into fascinators. She had not heard them called by that name however.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Victoria Sponge

Well, I did it: I went back to Time for Tea and had a slice of cake...the Victoria Sponge. That was the one with the double filling of both cream and raspberry. Dreamy! And I walked to Weymouth! The first twenty minutes were all downhill, of course, but the rest was a steady hike that took an hour and a half, door to door. And after my cake and tea, I walked most of the way back!! It was only at the base of Portland's three-hundred foot cliff that I looked up at our hotel, looked down at the bus stop, and caved. Best investment I ever made!

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

My New Favorite Place

This was today's find, a place called "Time for Tea." It sits on Hope Square, right outside the door of the malting houses where we hope to rent an apartment starting in September. There are several pubs, cafes, and tea houses in that area, but for some reason this one called my name. When I went in, the first thing I noticed was the music; it was Charles Trenet, a famous French crooner to whom my friend Ruth Kaye had introduced me years ago. Then, looking at the menu, I found that everything was written in French first, with the English translations below. It's a small place with a simple menu. They're only open from 9:30 in the morning until 5:30 in the afternoon, so the offerings are on the light side. Looking around the room, I spotted a sideboard where a half dozen cakes were on display: tall, double layer cakes sitting high on pedestals. One had two layers of filling, one creamy, one raspberry. Another was mocha with walnuts on top. Another was the deepest, darkest chocolate. I asked my server which was her favorite and without hesitation she said the Dorset apple cake. Now, I've been really trying not to go overboard on the sweets while we're here, so I chose the salmon and leek tart with a side of lightly dressed salad and a pot of Earl Gray tea. But while I sat there enjoying it, I could not help noticing that everybody else was having cake or maybe scones with clotted cream. So here's the plan: When Dwight and I move to that neighborhood, we'll go to Time for Tea every Saturday afternoon. Each of us will choose a different dessert and we'll share bites. Then we'll walk all the way around to the far end of the promenade and come home the long way. And anyone who has clotted cream has to go around twice.

Monday Quilt Group

Just got off the phone with Jenny Feltham, the lady I was referred to by the quilt shop. She belongs to a circle of quilters who meet in each other's homes every Monday to stitch, chat, and eat lunch. I belong to just such a Monday group back home and was delighted to be invited to sit with our English counterparts this coming Monday. She said I can get there on the #5 bus, so I need to study the route map and figure that out. Dwight and I will go by car and "do a visual" this weekend. I am so eager to meet these ladies and to see what they are doing! I'll take my basket quilt, which I am hand quilting, and also some redwork to stitch on. Will report back.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Beach Glass

Just three weeks ago we were in Maine, sitting on Back Beach taking in the sun and the view. I remembered the jar of beach glass that my Mom kept on the kitchen windowsill... colorful little pieces of glass that had been tumbled in the surf for so long that they were no longer shiny with sharp edges but rounded off and satiny. That jar was like a stained glass window of greens, whites, browns and blues, and most of them she had gathered on Back Beach. The stones on Chesil Beach are likewise rounded and smooth from a lifetime of rolling against each other, so it occurred to me that there might be beach glass down there as well. Today I went looking.

As I wrote earlier, Chesil Beach is a thirty-five foot high wedge of smooth rocks that form a barrier along the shore between here and Abbotsbury. The slope of that wedge is not consistent but rather a series of slope and shelf combinations. It is on the lowest of these shelves that the tide drops its daily cargo, so that is where I started my search.


Lots had been deposited there: sea weed, lengths of rope, fragments of netting, plastic bottles, chunks of wood, empty lobster claws. There was glass, but it was a newcomer to this surf riding business; it was still transparent, its edges still jagged. In an hour's time, I didn't see even a sliver of beach glass. I would have settled for a nicely polished chip from a tea cup, but it was not to be had.

As I made my way back, two fisherman crossed my path, and I stopped them to ask if they fish that beach often. When they allowed that they do, I asked them if they ever see any beach glass. They didn't even know what I was talking about. They told me that the locals call it "Dead Man's Beach" because the conflicting currents just off shore make for hazardous sailing. They listed all kinds of grizzly things that get washed ashore down there, none of which would be pretty sitting in a jar on a kitchen windowsill.

So I headed back up the hill empty handed...if not for that seaside kiosk where I stopped for a double dip cone of toffee fudge ice cream. Maybe I'll resume my search tomorrow.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Weekend in London

We were up and out early on Friday morning to catch a train to London. Dwight had business meetings there, and I was along for the ride! We got there at about the time of the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, and the cab taking us to our hotel was about the last vehicle allowed to pass before the road was closed off. What a sensation it was to have all those hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people roped off and filling every sidewalk while we drove through. It was as if they had all come to see our taxi pass by!

The Royal Air Force Club was perfect: great location, great room, great price! Dwight's contact was there to meet him, so they got right down to work while I hopped on the Victoria Line and made my way to the William Morris Gallery. William Morris was a nineteenth century English artist, poet, and publisher but is perhaps best known for his fabric designs. While his patterns have never gone out of style, he seems to be getting more attention lately, at least among quilters who are drawn to his classic floral motifs and pleasing color palette. The gallery is located in the building that was his boyhood home, and it provides a well documented, chronological account of his life and his development as an artist. The docent on duty was kind enough to allow me to take pictures. I think some day I will do a program at my quilt guild about his work. After leaving the museum I made my way back to the hotel, stopping en route at Liberty House, Fortnum & Mason, and some of the other Oxford, Regent, and Bond Street shopping Meccas.

After breakfast on Saturday, Dwight and I hit Harrod's, which was having one of its biggest sales of the year. The place was absolutely mobbed, but we stayed for a look around. It is impossible to resist some of the temptations to be found in their food halls, and I made a few small purchases. From there we did a bit of museum, church, and park hopping until time to pick up our tickets for the afternoon performance of Mamma Mia!. What a show! What a SHOW!! For years I have heard people rave about Mamma Mia!, so I knew we would enjoy it. I wasn't prepared, however, to be so totally overwhelmed by it. All I can say is that you should never, ever pass up the opportunity to see it if you haven't already. It's out as a movie now, and I suppose we will go see it, too, but I don't see how it can even approach the impact of seeing it on stage.

After the theater, we went for a pizza at Spacca Napoli on nearby Dean Street. Earlier in the day, we had stopped at an Italian gelateria for an ice cream cone to tide us over until dinner. The young man working there was Italian, so I asked him about an Italian restaurant I had seen not far from there. He said that if we wanted to eat good Italian food, the place to go was Spacca Napoli, and how right he was!! Best pizza we ever had outside of Italy, and even better than some we'd had in Italy! They even had my favorite Italian wine, prosecco, produced in my favorite prosecco town, Valdobbiadene. That plus a pizza, hot from a wood-burning oven, made the perfect end to our day on the town.

Back at the hotel, we checked email and found one from our neighbors alerting us that our irrigation system had stopped working. Luckily, our lawn man had been there and sized up the situation in time to override the power problem and save our dying grass. A couple of calls back to Florida and our minds were at ease once again. Where would we be without good neighbors?!

We continue to enjoy lovely July weather here on the Dorset Coast. The sun is out, the sky is blue, but the temperatures are in the sixties...delightfully cool. Dwight came home at lunchtime to go for a run and came back with this report: A woman walking her dog along the same path he was running had said to him, "I don't see how you can run in this heat!"

Trip to King's Sutton

The train ride up to Banbury went perfectly: a smooth ride over rolling countryside with pretty views all the way. Bev was there to meet my train and drive me to King's Sutton, the village she had moved from two years ago when her husband's work brought their family to our neighborhood. King's Sutton would not be an easy village to leave. Its stately manor houses and tidy cottages (some half timbered, some thatched roofed) had beautiful gardens -- billowing banks of hydrangeas, roses, and lots of begonias...big, lush ones. It's a complete village with every shop and service you could ever need, but its narrow and curvy streets made everything feel cozy. And then there were the girlfriends! Bev had invited four of them to come for lunch, and what a good time we had! Pictured above, from left to right, are: me, Vickie, Sarah, Bev, Barbara, and Rona. Lunch was delicious and the conversation was lively...punctuated by gales of laughter. These were women whom Bev had known for twenty years, and their fondness for one another was evident. What a joy to be in their midst! Way too early it was time to return to the station and catch my train back to Weymouth, but I came away feeling I knew Bev better, knew more of what she had left behind and better understood the longing she sometimes feels for a place called home.

Reality Sets In...It's Laundry Day!

After nearly two weeks in a hotel, Dwight finally ran out of underwear, so today was the day I went to an English launderette. I sorted our stuff into three loads, packed them into our largest suitcase, and stopped by reception to stock up on coins. (It took 3.5 pounds sterling per wash, or about $7...a bit less to dry.) Getting down to Fortune's Well, the village at the base of our cliff, was easy as I was pulled along by the rolling suitcase. Afterwards, I could have caught a bus back up the hill, but I decided on walking to atone for last night's clotted cream with raspberries dessert. It's a steep climb anyway, but hauling a suitcase behind made for quite a workout! The clothes that I took out of the dryer early are strewn on towels over every available surface here in the room, and the windows and door are open for circulation. While I am thus confined to quarters, I'll update our blog.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Brewers' Quay

This is the entrance to Brewers' Quay (say: "kee"), an area of Weymouth that was once home to a brewery. The tall, red brick buildings are still there, but they have been transformed into tea rooms, shops, pubs, and condos. It is here that we hope to reserve a furnished apartment as soon as the busy summer season is over. It will be just steps from this very pretty harbor and an easy walk to almost everything else in the city. While in town today, I picked up a bus schedule that covers all of Weymouth and also got a Senior Rail Pass, so I am ready to roll! My first excursion will be tomorrow when I travel to Banbury to spend the day with Bev. Then, on Friday, Dwight and I take the train to London, where he has a business meeting scheduled. His contact there was able to book us into the Royal Air Force's Officers' Club for two nights. It's located in the heart of the city, so we'll have a couple of days to poke around London before heading back to Portland on Sunday afternoon. Not a bad way to spend our first full weekend in England!

Monday, July 14, 2008

Victory!

Well, that was slick! The bus into Weymouth stops right outside our hotel, across the street. The driver sold me a ticket, and twenty-five minutes later I was within a five minute walk of the train station. I hit the info window at a quiet time and was able to get my ticket and all the transfer instructions I need for a smooth trip to Banbury on Thursday. Have already talked with Bev, who will meet my train at 10:52. I have needlework with me to help pass the three and a half hours spent in transit. I have a feeling, however, that most of the time will be spent looking out the window at the passing countryside.

Once finished at the train station, I continued yesterday's exploration of Weymouth. I was very surprised to discover that there is a small quilt shop in a shopping arcade that has taken up residence in a former brewery. Fabric is all from the U.S. and very expensive, but at least I know there are quilters in these parts. Will hunt them down later.

Tonight we ate "pub grub" at a place right on Chesil Beach that Peter had recommended. I had sea scallops and Dwight chose curry. We shared a slice of Dorset apple cake (with ice cream) for dessert. All yummy.

On that sweet note, I bid you a fond good night.

PG Tips

It's Monday morning, and Dwight has left for work. My first solo day. Every English hotel or B&B we have ever stayed in has had tea-making facilities in the room, including this one. I've brewed myself a lovely cup of PG Tips tea (with milk...the English way) and have settled in to update this blog.

Yesterday was another blue-sky day with temps probably in the high 60's. Fortified by our full English breakfast (eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, toast and a grilled tomato) we headed down the hill for a look at nearby Weymouth. We were amazed by how many people were out so early on a Sunday morning. ASDA ("A Member of the Wal-Mart Family"), where we had gone to find an adapter for my laptop, was jammed with shoppers at ten AM. Leaving our car in ASDA's parking lot, we struck out on foot.
Our first objective was to find the train station, which turned out to be central and very convenient. From there we made our way a couple of blocks to the seashore and found that it, too, was already quite animated. It was Seafood Festival weekend which may have accounted for the crowds, and all the ice cream kiosks, carousel rides, chair and umbrella rentals and even an outdoor Punch and Judy puppet theater were all doing a lively business. From there we wandered back to the car by way of the pedestrian shopping streets and the Sunday farmers' market, and were back at the hotel by early afternoon.

We changed into our hiking shoes and followed the Dorset Coast Path down to Chesil Beach (pictured above). From our hotel, which sits at over three hundred feet elevation, Chesil Beach looks like...a beach! I had heard it refered to as a "pebble beach," but once we got down there we found that the "pebbles" are smooth, round rocks as big as a fist, and they are piled thirty-five feet deep! Walking was sporty, a sort of step and slide combination that was fun as we headed toward the water but much less so as we struggled to regain elevation. The sound of the beach was interesting: the familiar sound of waves lapping against the shore was followed by a new sound...the wet rumble of rocks playing leap-frog back into the ocean. I want to remember that.

The highlight of our Sunday was afternoon tea at the home of Marilyn and Peter Gleave, colleagues of Dwight's. We sat in their lovely garden amidst an amazing collection of fuchsia plants (who ever knew they came in so many colors?) and enjoyed our tea with scones slathered in clotted English cream and fresh rasperries. Heavenly! Peter and Marilyn are a delightful couple who have already been so helpful at getting us settled in and making us feel welcome. I look forward to getting to know them better.

Now it is Monday, my first solo day. I think I will try to learn the local bus route and see how long it takes me to get to Weymouth's train station. My English friend Beverly from back home is here this month for her annual visit with family and friends up in the Cotswolds. We plan to get together one day, possibly this Thursday, so getting to Banbury is what I need to figure out. It would be a hoot to have a cup of tea with Bev in England! Will let you know how it goes.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Day One


We are in a beautiful place! The Isle of Portland is more like a peninsula, jutting out into the English Channel and connected to the mainland by a narrow pebble strand called Chesil Beach. Portland rises more than three hundred feet above sea level and is home to several limestone quarries. Our hotel sits on the island's highest point and offers panoramic views up and down the coast, back up the causeway, and across the patchwork mainland. Today was sunny, and the views spectacular! We have already been for a walk along the Coast Path and watched a lovely sunset from the dining room of our hotel. Time now for some overdue sleep and dreams of my first full English breakfast!

Friday, July 11, 2008

Starting Out

This message comes to you from the Atlanta airport, where I am awaiting my flight for London. Dwight arrived there on Tuesday and will meet my flight. Can't tell you how happy I am not to be picking up a rental car! In time, I will learn to drive on the "wrong" side of the road, but I'm glad that doesn't have to happen after an overnight flight!
Next posting will be from Portland on the Dorset Coast. Butterflies in my stomach! This is going to be great!!