Half-term break - Swindon, and Dyrham Park

This half-term we booked a short break at the Mercure hotel north east of Bristol, which is a country house hotel, very attractive as an early Victorian mansion or Rectory, now with a few corridors of hotel bedrooms tacked on here and there.

The amusingly bad hotel

Nothing was wrong with the room service or the reception service. Most of the staff were troupers. It is true that our bathroom basin had been badly cracked and mended with mastic by a lunatic (it seemed), and that the toilet was also cracked. It is true that the room was very cold when we arrived.  Our complaints were only about the restaurant staff. They were girls of about 18 who didn't know their job was to take orders and transmit them to the kitchen. They did not know anything! Therefore they made frequent trips to the hall to ask the receptionist what they should do. We found it amusing that there were so many staff, but the service was so bad. For example. they would bring you a pudding but no spoon to eat it with. This happened to the man at the neighbouring table and it was a long time before he got a spoon, the attitude of the waitress implying that he was making a lot of fuss about a little thing like a spoon - he was, in fact, remarkably patient. I was not patient, though! When we ordered our desserts, which were part of our package or we should have given up hope of them, they didn't come, and I think it likely that this was because the waitresses were meant to make them themselves, and no-one had told them this, and when they were told they did not know how to do it. The waitresses who brought our deserts on the second time of ordering, did not know which one was which, and we got confused too, so they had to make another agonised trip out to reception to find out what had gone wrong.

In the morning we had to ask a waitress for coffee, but knowing how she did not know the job yet, we suggested she ask us if we wanted tea or coffee. She denied that this was part of her job, and said that we had to ask her. We were amused by this. She brought a pot of coffee, which was fine, but no milk, so I pilfered some from another table. The rest of the breakfast was a buffet prepared by cooks who knew what to do. It was very good.

On the way out we heard another guest telling the receptionist it was the worst hotel she had ever stayed in! I can't imagine what they had done to deserve that. But it was clear to us that the restaurant manager must take the blame for his untrained, unled waitresses.

The first place we went to was Swindon, for the STEAM museum - the museum of the railway manufacturer. It was a terrific museum and very enjoyable but of course, sad, like all these museums that used to house a huge business of 4,000 workers, who took in coal, wood and iron ore at one end, and produced railway engines and carriages at the other. From the drawing board to the upholstery it was all done there - Swindon, and the workforce were proud of what they could do. Every summer the works were closed for 10 days, and the staff with their families loaded on trains - sometimes at night - and all taken to holiday destinations. So they worked, lived and holidayed together, in a tight community. There were jobs for women in the offices, and also in the upholstery-making. In the war they carried on the foundry and the iron work, and even made bombs, but after the war the men wanted their jobs back.

I looked for traces of Brunel, but there was not much there - then a glass case with his drawing board,  much scored, his T-square and his drawing equipment. Of course, Brunel didn't work there at all, his mechanical engineer friend Gooch did, and there was nothing of his on display. Interesting that the engineers not only designed engines but also ran the business for a good many years, putting out edicts about this and that, dealing with disciplinary matters like kings.

The saddest thing was some film of the engine driver working with the coal-man on the footplate. The fire-man had hard physical work, shovelling coal, and said that some drivers could burn the coal slowly and considerately, and others burn it fast and keep them slaving away. They didn't complain because the driver was the boss. They worked very long hours and of course, in all weathers, even being drenched by the sea sometimes, in stormy weather, where great waves come over the tracks at Dawlish. The fireman I listened to said that he had worked fourteen years at a skill that was made suddenly useless. Diesel engines came and the drivers could adapt, but the firemen were not wanted. This came back onto my mind the next day.

Apart from the museum, the other sheds contain shops - it's called an outlet village. Very good too, thought we only went to Marks and John Lewis. But we are quickly tired of shopping and I think that all the world will be tired of shopping soon. We have seen all the tat. We don't want any more of it.

Victorian industrial buildings were sometimes well-designed,
 but I can't find out who designed this one.
Brunel designed stations and workers' cottages;
did he design these? He once wrote to the Board
 of Directors telling them how much money
 he saved them by being his own architect.

So we enjoyed Swindon's large GWR museum. The next day we decided to go to Dyrham Park, where we went on a "deer walk" with a guide to tell us all about the habits of fallow deer - bucks and does - these have been in the park since Norman times. They are very carefully managed. At present it is the rutting season so we were able to see bucks with large antlers strutting around the group of does restlessly. They cannot eat at this time of year. They walk around making a strange deep noise and spreading their testosterone. This puts the does into oestrus. Then the doe chooses the buck - but how, I can't remember. The does are not often in oestrus. I didn't take any photos of real deer (I didn't get close enough) but this is what they look like:

The National Trust had put a lot of money and effort into Dyrham house, because they have had it for 60 years or so and then decided to renew the roof. The roof is made of lead, which was therefore taken off and re-smelted, and new lead added, and now the roof is good. For years the house was covered in scaffolding, but the public was able to go up and look at the work in progress on the roof.

Although I didn't take pics of the deer I did take pics of the trees in the park and the view - which was beautiful -green fields for miles!

This is a pear tree - with small pears on.

On the next day we went for a walk in the Mendips.

These "tumps" were created in WWII
to stop enemy planes landing on the hill

Things to look out for on Black Down • Bronze Age burial mounds on Beacon Batch • Rows of tumps (small mounds) created in World War II to prevent enemy aircraft landing. • Exmoor ponies • Devon ruby red cattle
We saw all these things, and the woodland was also very pleasant to walk in.

Fungi growing in a wood

Lunch at Yeo Valley head office. Sadly for us they told us our tokens no longer entitled us for a free lunch and that we would have to pay for it. I had beet burger - which was delicious.

Chandeliers in the art deco ladies loo

Glittery bin 

Framed photos in the corridor - Prince Harry is a favourite

In the restaurant:
Colanders as wall decoration

In the restaurant - squashes on the table

Savile Gardens again

Autumn in the Savile Gardens. I should try to remember this lovely afternoon because I sometimes feel very down and very fragile.

Three different views of a sculpture - lovely shadows. My son said the lovers look as though they are eating each other.

I enhanced this pic for clarity but it was an incredible grass with dead ends to the leaves which seemd to improve its impact

We particularly loved this yellow planting with yellow hot pokers

This planting was completely different from last year's

But the hydrangea garden is always gorgeous. I haven't enhanced these at all.

Now this new day

This day I am thinking about the leaves growing old on the trees, starting to crinkle at the sides. the beautiful tree on the green has already turned colour, yellowed, and the leaves are half dropped. There is a faint russetting around on the landscape. The morning looks hopeful, with chinks of pink through the clouds. I think of my small potatoes, some still in the ground - I must dig them up. I think of my niece and her baby boy - I must get those little fluffy bootees to her. I will not be racing in the race I was training for. I feel both disappointed and relieved. A race is a real thing; it will find you out, find out if you are fooling yourself. It was a long way and hard work to practice and there is a sore place on my coccyx. I wanted to use these calloused hands. They had a purpose - to hold the oars, try not to grip too hard, try not to seize up. When? When can I do that race? I am getting old. But not too old. Look at Fran, with her strange skiffing. Better for me than running. But I want to run. Good to run in the autumn when it's not too hot. Every day, I could run, like my friend Marie - oh, she says, I don't run very far. That's fine, because she runs every morning, and comes home for coffee!

I can hear my son in the bathroom. He runs the water for a long time. He does his teeth and his face. Last night he made his verruca bleed on the bathmat and came in to apologise. He should see the doctor about the verruca. He saw the doctor on Monday. He talked about his sore back and his noisy breathing. He must have forgotten to mention the verruca. I went to the doctor on Tuesday.  I had never seen this woman before. Middle aged woman possibly younger than me. She could see nothing wrong with my nose - referred me to a specialist. Little eyelid cancer - referred to specialist.

No more sounds from the bathroom. Today I must have a shower. Get Euros from the shop. Go to exercise class - might be fun. Last week I enjoyed the music.

Grateful for my computer. This morning I was sent a new picture by the Microsoft corps - sea anemones. So beautiful. The previous picture was of the desert: its hills, contours. This wonderful world.

Yesterday I wore my new glasses, found them a nuisance, kept putting them up on my head. I am surprised I am advised to wear them. "No" said the optician, "you can't stop yourself straining your eyes by turning the font to large." I do this with every computer programme - emails, internet, word - nice big font. So it seems to me the glasses are superfluous. I am very surprised by the wisdom of the optician,  but they have to sell glasses, don't they? A sceptic inside me.

Thackeray was an extraordinary man. To write so much journalism  in such good humour. Meanwhile his wife was mad, he had children - two - and his grandmother at home - I was reading last night his account of a hanging,  how it felt to be in a crowd for four hours watching, what people said, it seemed so familiar. You don't expect the crowd to have sense, it turns out the majority has sense. Vanity Fair is a great book, but too long. the long accounts of those charades! You just want to know what happens to the characters in the end, and in the end chapter everything rounds off so quickly. On the TV show, Amelia was a sympathetic character all the way through, and although foolish to idolise George, it was a mistake easy to make, and she was an angel to her parents and her child. Yet Thackeray gives her no credit. He doesn't consider her contribution - much - because she doesn't instigate anything, she is passive and at the mercy of events. He calls her crying - "having recourse to the waterworks".  He gives all the credit to Becky, for doing just what she wanted - dishonest striving to get to the place that seemed most  enviable - and then finding it quite boring. The Marquis of Steyne, what a bad character. Gloriously bad, black-hearted! Thackeray changes his viewpoint though. Like Becky, he can't make up his mind if he wants to be respectable or not. So he tries making a moral stand and calling her a monster - and making her at last a murderess! which is not in her character, as we have understood her throughout - but at other times she is bold and brave, cunning and clever, sparkling and dissembling, and he loves her.

Allotment Year 3

Well, let us start with things that went badly. Once again, we had no gooseberries as the berries that formed were eaten by some other species in spite of being covered by our mobile netted cage. We had not much luck with the apples either, although I did get one strudel out of the Bramleys; the rest were eaten by pests although this year I put black nets over the trees. The other tree had small red apples but the wasps loved them because they are such a sweet variety. I suppose I should have picked them as soon as they turned colour, but I thought they might grow a little bit bigger.

This Spring I weeded and fed manure to the roots of the raspberry canes, and they repaid me by not dying in the drought, but the fruit was very small.

The rhubarb was great - I forced some and it was tall and lovely to eat, but I fear the root died in the drought. One of the crowns puts flower heads up but I cut them off, and after you cut them they grow normal shoots from the base. Don't take any notice if you are advised to dig the crown up. The rhubarb didn't like the drought and I wonder how many of my crowns will come up next year.

The potatoes were tiny, and few.This statement reminded me of a picture that we saw in Germany, of the King of Prussia, Friedrich the Great. In this picture he inspects the potato crop.

If the Queen came along we would be in the same situation, showing her very small potatoes. But she is not interested in potatoes, unlike the Prince of Wales. I don't know if this will boost Prince Charles's popularity, as it did with King Friedrich. 

My problem is Europe's problem  -the Economist says - "The Chips are Down"

EUROPE faces a potato crisis. Around 53m tonnes of spuds are harvested in the EU each year. Germany, the biggest producer, usually digs up 10m-12m tonnes. But thanks to a dry summer, the tubers have come a cropper.
On September 26th Germany’s agriculture ministry announced a harvest 25% smaller than usual. This year’s spuds are littler and denser than normal. Belgians are feeling less than chipper over rumours that their beloved frites may now be one-third shorter as a result. But these fears are small fry compared with the wider implications.

Alas I don't subscribe to the Economist, (but they keep sending me tasters) So I can't tell you about the "wider implications" but take it from the Kaiser Chiefs, everything is bloody awful nowadays. Short video here

But no!!! Many kinds of vegetable did well. I grew a yellow courgette that prodigiously produced courgettes, and is still alive and going strong,  and three green courgette plants that did fairly well but died young. 

I grew two butternut squash plants that were fab, and gave very good tasty squashes. I haven't cooked many yet but they roast well. 

The other revelation was the cucumber plants. They were similar, grew everywhere and were so tasty! I watered them a lot of course but they survived periods of drought very well.

The tomato plants have produced excellent tomatoes, not tiny cherries but not full-sized either, somewhere in between. No sign of blight yet. 

Some leeks are in and are going well in the new bed.

Swedes are in and are also going well, except those inadequately netted, I think the birds got them. Other winter veg are just a token effort to keep something going - 6 red cabbage, 6 curly kale and 6 broccoli. 

I had a row of fairly respectable onions, - one of them was a model onion, large and handsome, and all very strong and tasty, and about half of my shallots grew to a decent size and have kept well.

I grew some amazing spinach. I would grow that again and again, as I love spinach and can make a few things with it. I also grew ruby chard, which continues to do well though the leaves seem tougher. Apparently these are even more nutritious than spinach.

I grew beans as usual and have them in the freezer. The runners are still on the canes but look a sorry sight - must come down soon. 

I put in a line of radiccio salad leaves and have 4 plants - they are so beautiful. 

I thought of putting my plot in for a prize but it wasn't well-kept enough and had too many marigold plants. It also doesn't have a proper compost heap.

The weed "crab grass" is taking over the allotments and inhibits the growth of other plants. Constant hoeing is the only way forward. 

I am now doing a website for the allotments. I made it and am doing a blog for it.