Ashburnham - a few pics

I can imagine Mr Darcy swooping over this bridge in his barouche.

Capability Brown was fond of the odd water feature...

This is a distant view of the stables.
I guess their horses were v high maintenance.

The family church.
We don't have our meetings in there,
we have them in the main house

The main house.
This was once three stories high all along,
but dry rot and death duties brought it low.

More pics tomorrow as we are off to Battle*.
"You may take our lives but you'll never take our freedom!"

Um, wrong I think you'll find...



* I know, I know, wrong battle, but Conquerer Bill (aka William the Bastard**) must be a bit unglamourous really 'cos Hollywood has ignored him completely.
** 'Strue, honest!

Go West!

Yes, even further west than Manorbier... we are off to America for August - Alabama and maybe a bit of Texas. Do I need to pack a jumper? :)

Means we'll miss an awful lot of stuff here though. The Cordell festival, Zoe and Jonathan's wedding - I was looking forward to seeing how stunning Zoe would be on her wedding day, Sharon and Chris's wedding, at which I was supposed to read :( Even the Brecon Mountain centre three day spinning demonstration which I was planning on living at.

But oh, the realisation of a lifetime's dream. Real heat, toasted earth, both a familiar and utterly strange culture seen up close. The food...mmm... steaks, gumbo, tex-mex. And we are going to stay with families, not a hotel or anything...and we are going for the longest time that we have ever been away but with a real point in mind (helping missionaries) What a chance to do something really different.

And then by September I will be desperate to get back home, to the green and the sheep and the Welsh accent. The first spin of the new term at Ponty Cross. And we will be back the first week in September, get over jet lag and hit life at a run once more.
V is certain that something amazing is going to happen shortly and I have never seen him wrong when he gets these things. Sometimes it is hard for me to see above the humdrum of my daily life...when the kids have eaten me alive that day and there is nothing but skin and bone masquerading as a mum, cooking the tea that they are probably going to turn their noses up at anyway. Sometimes it's hard to be a woman...I know get the flippin' violins out...all together 1,2,3.... ahhhh, poor Sian.

But there we are, that is life with its ups and downs, gains and losses, triumphs and disaster... and treat these two imposters just the same? I'll try Mr Kipling...

Lobster Quadrille Anyone?

This morning, right now, I don't think I can go. It is indeed a very long way away and I am certain that I would get as far as Staffordshire and want to come home. It is in Cockermouth, Carlisle is only over the next hill.
For some reason, due probably to a childhood travelling often to Scotland, Carlisle seems so far away. The border to another country as different from mine as Japan. But that's another story I suppose.
Just to say I'm in another state of mind to the militant spinner that goes to the ends of the earth for an opportunity to buy bison down. The internet has spoiled me. I don't ever have to leave my valley if I don't want to. I'm developing a village mentality. The trip to Cardiff should have shown me that one. Ha! I can't even travel forty miles without agraphobia setting in. ( That's not true by the way, it's just an illustration)

Cumbria would be good for me. Ohhh rats...I really can't decide

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you
Will you join the dance?

Woolfest...again

Well, the time is drawing near and I have got to make a decision. Do I go to Woolfest. I'm longing to go but the closer it is getting the squiffier V is feeling about me going all that way in my cronky peugot estate with only a spinning wheel for company and some sturdy knitting needles to protect my virtue if Hugh Jackson sees fit to attend and sees me across a crowded lace knitting demonstration.

I've offered to take Stephanie's dog with me as my heroic protector, but as she really suits her name (Tiny) and her defence mechanism is abject submission then I don't think my husband was greatly impressed.

So, if there are any massive, ferocious viking lookalikes, with mechanic skills and maybe a sideline in drop spindling, out there that fancy a wife sitting gig with all the wool they can carry home then just drop me a line at youmustbejokingifyouthinkimcavingtothehusbandoverwoolfest.co.uk

Its at the end of this month, Cumbria isn't that far away is it?