Jam paradise

Our weekend in Kent has certainly left an impression. I have county envy. Well county envy during this period of mellow fruitfulness when every tree and bush we looked at seemed to be ladened down with fruit. Kent is a jam and chutney makers paradise. We went on a walk and saw blackberries, sloes, damsons, apples, greengages, Victoria plums, crabapples - all for the taking growing by the side of the path. If I lived there I could go out every day and come back with a pot of jam for the making.

It's not only fruit. We walked through fields of lettuce. Of course I know these aren't free but it's something we would never see up here in the north. And of course we saw hops growing up strings. It took us a while to click that one. It was an unfamiliar and exciting landscape to us.

All this plus our main reason for being in Kent made for a wonderful weekend...............

Rapunzel Diaries 6: The Shard

I have had a lovely summer of towers. A tower fest to be sure. And the Shard was the tallest, not the most impressive but pretty near. It's obvious to say it but it does indeed look like a shard of glass piercing the London skyline. It's a bit of a wonky shard if you look directly up from the bottom - probably an illusion as it's so high. It's the tallest building in Western Europe but interestingly the second tallest structure in the UK after Emley Moor transmitting station. It was designed by Renzo Piano, a rather cool name to have and a rather cool place to say is your vision.

We caught the lift to level 68 for our first glimpse of London below us. It is breath taking. You can then climb the stairs up to Level 72. There are observation scopes around one of the levels so you can zoom in on places to find out what they are. It is fascinating to identify all these myriad famous places before you.

Our friends, S and R, got married very quietly last Saturday and went up the Shard as apart of their celebration. Congratulations. May your lives be full of interesting towers!

The Build: Week 14

So near, yet so far. We are so close to finishing this build. The architect thinks about another week but there appears to be so much yet to do. Finish the kitchen, lay three floors, complete the electrics, fit a Juliette balcony and so on. Lots of things and people that need to come together to finish a job.

We are fed up. We are fed up of living in a dusty mess where we can't find anything. We want to cook a meal, sit down at a table to eat it and then plunge onto a sofa and watch TV like we used to 14 weeks ago. People are lovely though and tell us it will all be worth it in the end. And it will.

The builder has had another job on this week and we feel left in limbo with fingers and toes crossed he will give us his undivided attention next week. He hasn't let us down thus far but I have learnt quite slowly over this project that successful builders appear to be successful builders because they can spin a tale. I call it BSing.....being 'blooming silly' but perhaps you can think of another term that fits.

We do now have an oven that works. But even the promise of buns hasn't lured the builder back. There is always painting to do as we have elected to do the decorating. I have become an expert on the mist coat: the layer of paint that goes on new plaster to seal it. I fear I will be dreaming soon about brushes and paint and misquotes and amorphous overcoats.  Alas and woe is us but what we can do is have a hot luxurious bath and a refreshing power shower. Yes the bathroom is finished....hooray....oh apart from the fact it hasn't got a door nor skirting boards nor a radiator that works.

M25 smugness

I listen to Radio 2 now and then. Ergo I listen to endless national traffic reports. Ergo I hear a lot about the M25 and the stationary traffic thereon. Inevitably there is always a report about this motorway winding around London. Traffic isn't moving anti-clockwise, cars are at a standstill, there is very heavy congestion moving at a snail's pace clockwise. It's attained a kind of mythical status in my mind of a ribbon of cars encircling London that just don't move. You drive on to it at your peril as you'll be stuck there forever circling round and round such is its image in my mind.

This last weekend David and I travelled 520 miles to Kent and back. We had to travel on the M25. I don't mind confessing as we approached this legendary road, I was slightly nervous to be meeting it. Why would anyone join the M25 just to be stuck in a queue? Would we indeed have to sit on it as I anticipated? Would we be part of the slow moving snail travelling anti-clockwise?

Of course we had Radio 2 on in the car to keep us abreast of the current M25 situation as we approached this circular highway at 5.30pm on a Friday evening. Surely as M25 virgins we would meet heavy congestion during this last rush hour before the weekend. I drove on to it from the east, going in an anti-clockwise direction at about 6pm and we held our metaphorical breadths. About an hour and a half later - hallelujah - we had endured no tailbacks, no jams and were off it. We felt relieved, spilling over into smugness as we cheered when Junction 5 appeared with no queues having been endured.

We were very lucky. Our friends who tried to join the M25 to the north of London at the same time as us were not so happy. They ended up in a three hour standing queue. They could have set up camp at the side of the motorway and phoned for a take away (delivered perhaps by scooter driving madly down the hard shoulder). The motorway was closed with them on it due to a suspicious man and package. Oh dear such was their frustration and despondency that when they did get going again they just turned their backs on the M25 and went back home and did not rendezvous with us at our final destination.

We took on the legendary M25 and we won.....some of us anyway.

PS More about our final destination in Kent in a later post - suffice it to say it was a towering experience (a clue there).

Blackberry picking

I love picking blackberries. Get my dish and off I go to find a blackberry bush. This year they are the juiciest for a good few years. It's so satisfying picking free fruit and then making them into crumbles, pies and jam. This year I'm having to freeze before use as we still have no kitchen.

I must admit it's also quite a sad time this year. I have always blackberried 'at home' on the farm. I knew where all the best blackberry bushes were but this year there is no 'home'. My mum's house was sold in February and I guess this annual blackberry hunt has had to change location. As a child I always knew when the blackberries were ripe as my Auntie Mary and family would turn up from Sheffield to pick them. One year she fell into a blackberry bush - I could show you which one. Even my Dad would sometimes grab a little pan after working on the farm and fill it to the brim with succulent berries. These were usually made into a pie or stewed with the late addition of golden syrup by my mum.

My mission is to go out every day and fill a container until they end. Of course I must stop on Oct 1st for by then the devil will have got the little black berries. Rural folklore or is it just plain sensible not to pick berries passed their best?

Hula hooping away

Can you hula hoop? I used to be able to do it. But alas now I cannot. My daughter is a genius at it. She can hula hoop for hours and amuse us walking around doing her hula hoop chicken walk.

My husband has tried and he can't. We've had all sorts of theories to justify why we can't do it. Our centre of gravity is different? The hula hoop isn't big enough? There's too much in the way when you are a grown woman (my excuse of course)! And when it's all too much we have sulkily taken our hula hoop home with us and been heard to mutter why would we want to hula hoop anyway? I fear we just can't hula hoop it.

We once saw an act which consisted of a woman just hula hooping. It was mesmerizing. She could hula hoop round every part of her body and with multi hula hoops. She definitely had skills.

Off to practice now.

Rapunzel Diaries 5: Hereford Cathedral Tower

What do most churches have? Answer: towers. They are a very good source for tower climbing especially in September when quite a few churches open up their towers for the Heritage Open Weekend. Cathedrals often have tours of their magnificent perpendicular lofty regions throughout the year. We've just been on holiday to Herefordshire and am happy to report that Hereford Cathedral had a tower tour on that I and my children couldn't resist. The other five members of our party did decline to climb up though - funny folks!

Hereford Cathedral used to have two towers but the western one collapsed in the 18th century but we were willing to risk a climb of the 218 steps up the existing one. With cathedral climbs you get to see the building from the inside and from different perspectives. We got to walk across the ceiling and see it from the inside and view the cathedral down from the Lantern gallery appreciating the mosaic floors and the scale of the church. It is truly amazing when you contemplate that this building dates from the 11th century. How did they do it?

The reward is superb views of the Brecon Beacons, Malvern Hills and Herefordshire but the fascinating aspect is looking down on Hereford itself and seeing the gardens and nooks and crannies you just don't know or imagine exist.

Anyway we knew we had to descend again when we shouted down to David and our friends (sorry we broke the cloistered silence with 'Oi we're up here, you lot') and were greeted with fingers pointing at watches and then mouths. How could they favour lunch over a tower adventure...those perpendicularly challenged heathens.