england

The Ebbing Tide

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Tides are a fascinating phenomena. I first became aware of them when I was eight and we had a fortnight’s holiday in a converted train carriage in Wittering, West Sussex. Mum and Dad obtained a tide timetable so we could visit the beach at low tide when the sand ( sand flats perhaps a better description ) appeared and we were safe in the shallow water. My parents sat on the beach with a rug over their knees and no intention of going in the water. At high tide we abandoned the pebble beach for cultural pursuits such as visiting Chichester Cathedral. Staying for a fortnight illustrated the fact that times of the tides changed slightly every day, for reasons I still don’t understand, but the Moon is involved. So a  typical holiday agenda would be beach in the morning first week and by second week, beach in the afternoon.

Tides are at their most interesting when islands are involved, islands close enough to walk to at low tide, with the additional excitement of perhaps being stranded or washed away on the incoming tide. At Saint Michael’s Mount in Cornwall you can walk across a stone causeway or have a boat ride at high tide. By the time you have finished exploring the little rocky island the tide will probably have turned and you will return by the opposite method to your arrival. The Saint Aubyn family still live here and manage it with the National Trust. On arrival you can follow a steep path winding up to the castle. The harbour village has a shop and café. This is my favourite island, what fun to enjoy living on an island, while still being able to pop over to the mainland for your shopping. I love the sub tropical terraced gardens and the castle is very homely, just the sort of little castle I would like to own.

https://stmichaelsmount.co.uk/

We have also been to the mother ship, I mean monastery, Mont Saint Michel in Normandy, France. This island is on a larger scale, full of restaurants and tourists. You can walk all round the island at low tide and there are lots of photo opportunities. In more recent times no cars go over the causeway. There is a visitor centre with car park and a free shuttle bus across the causeway, or you can take a horse and carriage or walk. The tides vary greatly, at roughly 14 metres (46 ft) between highest and lowest water.

If you have ever travelled on the east coast railway line to Edinburgh you will have been treated to views of Durham Cathedral high above and the Newcastle bridges, but also you can look across shimmering seas to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. I instantly wanted to go there and we finally made it on a Northumberland holiday which included other great sights such as… you will have to wait for another day to find out.

The island has a causeway which you can drive across, though you leave you car in the car park to enjoy the peace of the island. Saint Aiden came from the holy Island of Iona on the west coast of Scotland to found an abbey.

When we visited, a bride was being driven across in a carriage pulled by black horses, she was being married at the castle. We wondered if the wedding guests would all get off the island again before high tide.

‘Warning signs urge visitors walking to the island to keep to the marked path, to check tide times and weather carefully.  For drivers, tide tables are prominently displayed at both ends of the causeway The causeway is generally open from about three hours after high tide until two hours before the next high tide. Despite these warnings, about one vehicle each month is stranded on the causeway, requiring rescue by HM Coastguard and / or the Seahouses RNLI lifeboat.’

https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/north-east/lindisfarne-castle

Tidal fun doesn’t have to involve an island. We once had a holiday on Grange-over-Sands railway station, Cumbria. The working station also had part of the  building converted to a cottage, it was surreal hearing trains go through in the middle of the night. Grange-over-Grass might be a more appropriate name as at low tide sheep were put out to graze, then sheepdogs rounded them up before the incoming tide. The station looked out over the vast stretch of Morecambe Bay. I have looked this up and can’t find holiday accommodation listed for the station or any mention of sheep. Did I imagine the whole thing?

You can walk across the bay at low tide, it’s a long way and the Morecambe Bay sands are renowned for their quick sands and fast flowing tides. Crossing the sands has always been dangerous. The King’s Guide to the Sands is the royally appointed guide to crossing the sands.

We did not try that.

What is your favourite island and more interestingly, have you ever been stranded on one?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Grand Designs

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Not another nail bar, beauty salon or whatever it was. Well I for one would not be setting foot in La Venue. I would be much too embarrassed for them to see my gardening hands. There was that advert when I was a teenager ‘Whatever you do, your hands show too’ I often think of that when I’m looking at my nails, it was an ad for nail polish.  My seaside hair was not seen in glossy advertisements either. I tried to peer into the window without being noticed, to see what they were actually doing and wondered if any of the girls had been trafficked into the country as slave labour. They all looked very glamorous and confident, hardly downtrodden. The interior looked very up market, but there was no sign of prices. Perhaps if you needed to ask, you could not afford it.

When I went to meet Becky for coffee I picked up one of the local papers left out for customer enjoyment. Low and behold, on the front page was a glamourous lady posing by the door of La Venue. Below was a short paragraph revealing her as the manageress with an introduction to her business.

…and has since decided to specialise in more ‘high end’ treatments. She said: “The landscape of aesthetic treatments is currently undergoing a revolutionary transformation where cutting edge technology meets personalised care to create unprecedented opportunities for enhancement and rejuvenation. The field is evolving and now offers more precise, natural and accessible solutions than ever before and we wanted to bring this to …”

I could not be bothered to read more, what on earth was she talking about? I passed the paper to Becky.

‘Nowhere does it say how much, if I win the lottery I’ll treat you.’

I thought no more about it as I went home to see if Amazon had delivered the author copies of my new book Grand Designs.

YES, I stroked the cover and silken pages lovingly, never had a book felt and looked so good.

Grand Designs by Hepsibah Hampton

I turned to the back cover.

It is 1689 and Queen Mary 11 and her husband William of Orange are invited to jointly reign on the English throne. Like any young couple they want to make lots of changes to their new home, Hampton Court and invite Sir Christopher Wren to do some grand designs. The story of their sadly short reign is seen through the eyes of the head gardener and a kitchen maid.

Gardeners, food enthusiasts and romantics will thrill to this tale of two very different love stories. William and Mary’s will end with her tragic death from smallpox in 1694, aged only 32. But life in the privy garden goes on…

Hepsi could not wait to tell Rebecca, who was also her agent. Rebecca was sure Hepsibah would fill the gap left by Hillary Mantel. Hepsi tended to think of herself more as Hillary Mantel lite. She had not done quite as much research into her historic novel, relying on student memories of being a room attendant at the palace, dressed in historic costume and chatting to visitors. She had also visited several times to read the room descriptions and take photos of the huge kitchen. As lots of readers were interested in gardening and food she figured they would warm to the head gardener and the kitchen maid. As she went to pick up her phone, Rebecca called her.

‘Do you want the good news or the brilliant news first?’

I told her the books had arrived  and they were fine, what better news could I expect.

‘I won a competition for a free visit to La Venue.’

‘Rather you than me.’

‘But it will be you because the brilliant news is I have booked you a place at the Hay Festival and we need to smarten you up a bit.’

‘You must be joking, I’m not famous or posh enough.’

‘Someone taken ill, I managed to get you in tomorrow. Visit La Venue this afternoon, then we drive down early in the morning.’

I could not believe any of this. Rebecca had never been an agent before and I was her only author. I tried to call her bluff.

 ‘Okay, I’ll go, but  as myself, a sort of intellectual image.’

‘More like just come in from the garden look.’

‘Nobody will see me in the unlikely event my bit is on Radio 4.’

‘The audience will.’

Relaxing in the reclining chair for dermaplaning I felt strangely calm, perhaps that was the inner cleansing health drink they had given me. I began to rehearse what I might say when I was interviewed, or was I expected to give a talk?

The afternoon passed quickly as I was dunked into warm salt baths, had lovely tingling things applied to my lips and cheeks and then lay on my stomach for some enhancements, whatever that meant.

I was trying to look in a mirror, but the eye brightener had left everything a bit fuzzy and I was advised to wear an eye mask for the next few days.

I thought Rebecca sounded a bit worried, but as she drove me to her house she sounded brighter and said an eye mask would add to my mystery and promised to sit on the stage with me. I noticed her sofa was much more comfortable to sit on than I remembered and she said that was the enhancements.

It was a great success, I think. At home I settled to listen to our part on BBC Sounds.  I couldn’t recall what I had talked about, but there was a definite buzz coming from the audience, before I even said a word. Those two chaps who are always on intelligent programmes on Radio 4 were introducing my interview .

‘…certainly not what we or the audience were expecting, less polite commentators might suggest she looked more like a Celebrity; a good deal of body work done and her face no stranger to Botox?’

‘But her revelations about late seventeenth century life at Hampton Court certainly entertained the audience, even if they had no idea what that had to do with her new novel set in the Great Depression.’

By this time I was beginning to come out of the haze that had enveloped me since my visit to La Venue.

‘Rebecca, I don’t understand what they are saying.’

‘Ah… well, at least you got some publicity, but it turns out they thought they had booked the other author called Hepsibah Hampton, some best selling intellectual.’

Silly Saturday – Not the Chelsea Flower Show

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Presenting a garden at the flower show is not simple, you want your flowers to be at their best all week.

One of this year’s themes was recycling and judges were thrilled with this reuse of decking.

The designer also used a classic bench from the end of the twentieth century.

A popular theme in the modern garden is rewilding. NO Mo May is in full swing, but it’s okay to mow some of your lawn so you can find your way to the washing line.

It takes great skill to create the impression that you have let everything run fashionably wild; a pot of blue paint has been used to great effect.

The blue theme unites different parts of the garden.

No gardener wants wheelie bins spoiling the view and this bespoke bin store attracted great attention from visitors to the show.

As did the recycled Belfast sink, originally from Birmingham New Street Station circa 1960s, though provenance cannot be proved. It has hot and cold running water, appreciated by gardeners and dog owners alike – fits most dogs. The terrace was created with recycled kitchen tiles, circa 1980s.

All the hard work and months of planning is worth it when the judges come round with the medals.

Tuesday Tiny Tale – The Long and Winding Road

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‘I don’t even need Satnav, I managed fine without it before.’

‘What about that time in Cornwall?’

‘That was your father’s fault.’

‘Your lovely new electric car, that you were so keen to have, comes with it anyway, so you might as well use it.’

‘I’ll be fine on the motorway, well as long as I can stick to one motorway.’

‘Precisely, you have three or four to tackle, depending which way you go.’

‘I can’t work out how you switch it on.’

‘That’s why I am going to put your destination in, then all you have to do is follow the route and instructions. Does this old school friend of yours even have a post code up there in the Scottish highlands?’

‘It’s not that remote, I’ve got it in her letter.’

‘Have you emailed her to say when you’re coming?’

‘She hasn’t got internet, she only ever wrote at Christmas till this epistle urging me to go and visit.’

‘When did you last see her?’

‘At school, don’t look so worried, you told me to get out and about a bit more.’

‘I meant Zumba Gold or U3A conversational French.’

‘Okay, it’s all set up, just don’t touch anything or switch it off. All you have to do is follow the map.’

‘It’s like a cinema screen!’

At first Jill found the constant instructions irritating as it told her how to navigate the wrong way out of her home town, but the rich Scottish baritone, apparently called Callum, was quite good company. When she saw a square flash up on the screen saying ‘The Long and Winding Road’ she agreed with Callum that a playlist of travelling songs would be pleasant. She touched the square, but no music came on. Jill didn’t dare touch anything else.

When she reached the point where she usually headed for the slip road onto the motorway, Callum told her to turn in the opposite direction. Jill found herself going down a pretty road with cottages and stables, then down a lane that led under the motorway. That did not make sense as she was now on the wrong side, she didn’t want to end up in the southbound lanes.

Now Callum was sending her down a long winding road past farms, houses and factories. The only thing that made sense was the fact that she was vaguely heading north and she had caught a glimpse of motorway services. All she had to do was turn into the services, have a cup of coffee, then head out onto the motorway. Callum was getting rather irate now as she had stopped listening to him. Jill was also getting irate as there seemed no way into motorway services except to climb a fence or plough through a pine forest.

She conceded defeat when Callum directed her to a road that went back under the motorway. For a while they drove along reassuringly parallel to the motorway, then she saw a sign that said 500 yards to Greenways Garden Centre. Just as Callum was frantically telling her to take the turning on the left she spotted another sign, 25 yards to Greenways Garden Shop, Café and Emporium. It was too good an opportunity to miss, she needed a break.

Parking was easy and Callum seemed to shut up when she turned the engine off. Greenways was just the sort of place she loved. Clean spacious toilets, elegant café and interesting glimpses of plants and garden furniture. When she looked at her watch Jill was surprised it was lunchtime already.

Looking around at the other customers they were obviously here to enjoy lunch with their friends, not on an arduous journey. There were free local newspapers to read and her cheese scone was delicious. She was enjoying this part of her adventurous journey.

Jill set off to stroll round the plants, looking for a pot plant for her friend that would survive the journey. She couldn’t decide so headed past olive trees and palms to a showy gift section and spent a good while choosing for the friend and her sister’s birthday. A few steps from the till were racks of clothes, an opportunity to get a couple of tops and maybe a skirt for her stay in Scotland. Searching for changing rooms she went through a door that led her into Greenways Emporium and Antiques Centre. The sort of place Jill and her friends adored, with all sorts of thing you didn’t know you needed. The other people looking round were just as interesting as the objects on display. As Jill held up a delightful glass paperweight to examine her phone startled her,  she delved into her bag.

‘How are you getting on Mother? Are you at motorway services, it sounds noisy.’

‘No, I have stopped at a glorious garden centre for lunch.’

‘What junction did you come off at?’

‘I haven’t got onto the motorway yet, Callum sent me all over the place.’

‘Where on earth are you now?’

‘According to the local newspaper in the café I’m in Upper Ridlington.’

‘Is there an air base nearby.’

‘No idea.’

‘Have you seen the time?’

‘Oh four o’clock already!’

‘I’m just looking at the map on my computer screen, I don’t understand how you ended up there.’

‘I don’t think the Satnav works very well and the music system doesn’t work at all.’

‘The car hasn’t got a music system.’

‘The Long and Winding Road came up on the screen so I clicked onto it.’

 ‘Oh no, that’s what the journey option avoiding motorways is called!  The best thing you can do now is set the Satnav with your address and come straight home.’

‘But I don’t know how to work the Satnav…’