Weather

I've enjoyed the variety of weather this year as much as any I can remember. I'm not one for excessive heat, retiring as I tend to do under awnings and standing about with a Panama  pulled down over my ears. So a hot day that ends in a spectacular thunderstorm watched from a local pub window holds a particular appeal. And then to traverse my stretch of countryside as the clouds clear and the last of the sun spotlights the fields brings me dancing about on the wet grass verges. The only sound the odd bleat from the fields and my village church sounding the hour. It doesn't get much better than this.

What We Saw On Our Holiday

 

We've just spent a little time on the Suffolk coast. Southwold to be more precise, or Adnams-on-Sea as I shall now call it. It doesn't matter how far away from the classic town brewery I drink their ales, I'm always left with a self-satisfied beam on my face. But to drink a Southwold Bitter or, my current preference, a few Broadsides, within a handful of miles of the town is a very distinct pleasure. Anyway, Friday evening found us on Southwold Pier, running about like children as we enjoyed Tim Hunkin's joyful slot machine arcade called The Under The Pier Show. Gloriously old fashioned, utterly eccentric and delightfully bonkers. The one in the top photo is his Quantum Tunnelling Telescope, but sadly, like many seaside telescopes when the money runs out, the view from it was strangely absent. But it did make lots of noise.

 

More sedate was the Dovecote Studio at Snape Maltings. (Get your cow-shaped butter dishes here.) Snugly positioned in the stabilised ruins of the original 'cote', this is a Cor-ten steel  monocoque shell that was prefabricated and then dropped in by crane. The architects were Haworth Tompkins. I pondered its use for so long, but had I bothered to walk round it, instead of complaining when anybody walked in front of it as the sun came out, I'd have seen that it had windows. It's used by musicians and artists in-residence and, I expect, as a useful hideaway for the Snape Maltings staff as they discuss the latest balsamic vinegars. I love this kind of thing, practical innovative thinking for a building that not only looks good, but also fits in (literally) with its surroundings. A good place to quietly put a few Broadsides away, staring out across the lonely marshes towards the sea, Britten's Sea Interludes in your ear and... (that's enough arty-crafty Suffolk references: Ed.)

A Field in Unmitigated England

I have been much exercised recently by thoughts concerning Ben Wheatley's new film A Field in England. On the first viewing I got to the end with my mouth open wide, and at the end of my second viewing I got to the end with my mouth open even wider. By turns it is: infuriating, brilliant, masterful, disorientating and beautifully atmospheric. Shot with great care in monochrome by Laurie Rose, many will, and indeed do, hate it. I loved it. So much so that I said to The Boys "Why don't we do an homage to it?" They readily agreed, rummaged around for big coats and hats that held an extremely vague approximation to a mid-seventeenth century look and got down to writing the script over a hastily disposed of supper. The restrictions were manifold. It had to be one shot, two lines of dialogue at the most and the location within a mile of Ashley Towers. I knew we'd have a problem with the wind buffeting the tiny mike on the camera, but we had great fun, and for what it's worth here it is. Have a look at the real thing, and if you experience it on DVD you can make up for any misgivings by watching all the 'making of' extras, which are amongst the most informative and entertaining I've seen. Particularly the uncensored views of performer Michael Smiley and the practicalities of blowing somebody's face off.

Bonding at Reculver

So there we were, motoring between tall hedges with the twin towers above their lonely beach playing peek-a-boo with us as we edged nearer to Reculver on the North Kent coast. "James Bond came down here in his Aston Martin DBIII in Moonraker" I said. "Really?" she replied, somewhat suspiciously. Quite rightly. Bond's visit was in Ian Fleming's Goldfinger (1959): He came up with a crossroads. To the left the signpost said RECULVER. Underneath was the ancient monument sign for Reculver church. Bond slowed, but didn't stop. We did, and spent a happy hour wandering about the gaunt ruins and beach, trying to avoid being in that other photographer's viewfinder. "Don't worry" he said, "I'll Photoshop you out". On the pub verandah later I mused: That's what people will say about me. "What happened to Peter Ashley?" "Oh, he got photoshopped out". Read more about the church here, read the original James Bond books to see just how much they contrast with the gadget laden later films. I really like them, and think I'll read Moonraker again, this time following Fleming's narrative in the right order, instead of backwards trying to find the word 'Reculver'.

Cider with Molly

So, there I was, roaming disconsolately around 'History Live!' the new wizzy and slightly queasy name for English Heritage's Festival of History at Kelmarsh. Why do they do this? It's like the English Tourist Board now being 'Enjoy England'. Yes, I will, thankyou. Anyway, I wandered about under the lowering skies, looking at Roman soldiers on their iPhones, chatting up WWII nurses doing each other's hair and generally feeling glum at the lack of light for my pictures when 'lo!', I walked into the beer tent and saw this on the bar. Now I don't normally drink the fruit of the apple, but how could I resist this? Quite apart from my well known penchant (in certain select quarters at least) for white on red polka dots, I just loved the design. It took me a while to get to the small print, but '100% cider apples' and 'Herefordshire' did it for me too. So what's it like? Let's put it like this. Come Christmas I want a reasonable quantity stowed in the cellars of Ashley Towers. As it says on the label: 'Well rounded, medium, still.' Thankyou to Celtic Marches who made it and designed the label- just for me it would appear. 

Ightham Smote

There can perhaps be nothing more English than watching an event in the pouring rain.  Considering the recent spell of excellent weather it really was bad luck that the al fresco performance of Pride and Prejudice at the National Trust's Ightham Mote should have been greeted and terminated by a storm of Biblical proportions on Saturday night. We arrived as rain swept across the lawns, tripping over our folding chairs and picnic hampers as we desparately tried to find a viewing position that didn't involve other people's umbrellas and massed ranks of hooded kagoules. I sat on a packet of wet scotch eggs, chucked a big glass of rose over the people in front and tried to keep an even temper as my chair decided to fold itself back up again and slowly sink into the grass. It was at this point that a lady thrust herself upon me and asked "Would you like to buy a raffle ticket?" I expect to hear of my membership suspension from the National Trust shortly.

But sincerest congratulations to the Chapterhouse Theatre Company for such a valiant and utterly professional attempt to give us the play for half an hour before a classic lightning strike threatened to take out the entire Bennet family. Two for one in one case as the actor playing Mr.Bennet doubled up as a very convincing D'Arcy, presumably doing very quick changes behind a convenient and very damp shrub.

New Arrivals

I've made some decisions this week, quite apart from re-starting my blog. But first a very big thankyou for to all those followers who didn't disengage and who have kept the faith whilst I've been faffing about. I've decided not to Twitter anymore after I looked at the last one I'd 'tweeted' that used all the word allowance to ponder on why there was a teatowel from Leatherhead blowing on my neighbour's washing line. And the same goes for MugBook. The truth is I just can't be bothered with all that, but what I will promise is that these Unmitigated Postings will be as regular as All Bran. It's a forum I love, I've been away from it far too long, and even if there's only my immediate followers out there reading it I shall be very happy.

The idea for my 'first' posting came from the above tin that I found irresistible in Market Harborough's Market Hall the other week, and the timing for it's first appearance is hopefully obvious. And having just received the fabulously beautiful gift of my first grandaughter from Only Daughter, I'm all ridiculously babied-up at the moment. So here's to all new arrivals, royal or not quite so royal. (Opens bottle of Pimm's, puts a teat on it, gurgles it down in one, falls over. Smiling beatifically.)