N C Wyeth.

Newell Convers Wyeth was more known as a book illustrator than as a painter. His son Andrew Wyeth is known to most of us, but the father less so.

This painting called 'Nightfall', is possibly one of N C W's best. For me it represents everything that is desirable, and possibly difficult, about country life.

I would love to own it, and have it on my wall.

The farm, I imagine, is Wyeth's own but to my eyes looks very English, other than the brown-coloured Silo. The folds in the landscape could be those of The Cotswolds, as is the colour of the stone from which the buildings are made. It is not at all the view of his son Andrew's barren plains and crumbling wooden homes that he so often painted. 

The painting represents pride, patience, and maybe some concern. I imagine that most farmers would recognise something of their own plight in the picture. One can only wonder what is going on in the mind of the little red-haired child. I suspect she is seeing her whole life ahead of her.

What a beautiful painting.

 

More Peaches.

Boo Boo's Peach tree harvest is long over. It produced a very large crop of delicious fruit this year, but sadly we were unable to eat them all. We put quite a lot in the freezer, but now we have two more trees that are over-producing.

These are what's known here as Peches de Vigne, the trees are quite commonly found at the end of vineyard rows; possibly planted to feed the hungry grape pickers. They are a more rustic variety than Boo Boo's, and are reproduced simply by the planting of a Peach stone.

As you can see, they are smaller than the more cultivated Peaches, but they don't lack in flavour, or juiciness. 

Both our trees are loaded. I always advise everyone here to carry a small pocket knife with them and eat a few every time they pass by, they really are delicious; and plentiful.

Our Figs are now also now ripening, and trying to keep-up with everything is impossible. If we were to be here through Winter I would bottle the Figs as I have always done in the past. But I'm not taking preserves back to the UK. There are peaches grapes figs and apples everywhere. The Hornets are already feasting on them instead of us!

The Reine de Renette apples (below) have done really well this year; last year there were none. They are the French equivalent of the English Cox; but nowhere near as good.

Rover SD1

This must have been the most dangerously fast car I've ever owned.

The 3.5 litre Rover SDI was a viciously fast sports car in saloon car clothing. You only realised how 'low-slung' they were when they were parked amongst other cars. They were fast, good-looking, and (for me) luxurious.

This is not my actual car, but it was silver and looked much the same.

To my eternal shame I remember one incident that I regret to this day. I was driving alone through France, heading North, on the motorway when I encountered two more SDI's. These were rare cars in France, and to suddenly find yourself in a row of three was very strange. The lead car suddenly started to speed-up, and we two behind followed suite. The speed soon became excessive but we continued; probably to the amazement of the other few road users who witnessed us flying by. I soon realised that it had become extremely dangerous and I backed off. The speeds we were doing were not only way beyond the legal limit, but were such that even the slightest 'blip' and we would probably have crashed and killed ourselves. It was that stupid.

Why I got involved in such a 'race' I don't know. It must have been part bravado, and part bravado! Knowing that you have a car that would do in excess of 130 mph needed testing; and that's what we did.

I'm pleased to say that that short (maybe 10 minute) incident changed my driving attitude for ever. I immediately realised how stupid I'd been, and ever since I've driven at my own choice of speed, and am no longer ever in a hurry.

When I look back to that day, I still feel that I'm lucky to be alive. It could all have ended so badly.

Since then, fast cars no longer interest me. In fact I soon swapped that Rover for a Renault 4, and have continued with a series of average speed utility cars ever since.

I just happened to see the above photo recently, and it brought back the horror of the occasion as if it were yesterday.

p.s. Back in about 1965 I was taken for a ride in a TVR Grantura Griffith 200. My friend who owned the car managed to reach about 150 mph along the Talgarth Road in London, on the way out to the airport. I don't think I've ever been as frightened in my whole life.

Such Massive Talent.

My daughter's Father-in-Law was/is a goldsmith/jeweller. He made exotic, and extremely expensive, items for the rich, royal, and famous. He was also the Vice Chairman of the Institute of Professional Goldsmiths Forum.

Below is one small example of his work. Buckets-full of 18 carat gold, a huge 500 carat carved Indian Emerald, Emerald and Diamond stem, and a pair of Peacocks dining on a plate of Diamonds. The whole is just 23 cms tall. His client owned the huge Emerald, and commissioned something to be built around it; as one would!!!

The standard of his work is second to none, and, as you can imagine, he was always in demand to make the most exotic creations.

Such things are not to my personal taste, but the craftsmanship is exemplary. I cannot imagine the process, or the time involved, of making such an object. I would love to show you more of his amazing creations, but without his permission; I'd better not. 

Anyway, well done 'Father Ted'.
 

Are you lost in the world ?

Sussex Cottage

Our 'library' here is quite extensive, it contains a good selection of classic novels, poetry, and children's books. It also contains most of our collection of art and reference books.

I have just forced myself to finish reading a very poor novel by Nick Hornby, and desperately needed something to restore my faith in 'literature'. 

I last read Esther Meynell's 'Sussex Cottage' back in the 70's. I have been friends with some of the current Meynell family since my London days, and her book appeals on many levels. I once wrote about the family's stunning old farmhouse home near Amberley which I consider to be one of the most beautiful, and desirable, homes in Sussex. But this book is about an altogether different house.

Being a Surrey/Sussex lad myself, I am fascinated by all the traditions of my county, especially its early domestic architecture. 

This book describes the building of a traditional village home by itemising all the materials, construction methods, the crafts, the craftsmen, the characters, traditions, and the very landscape itself. The cottage is in Ditchling, just outside Brighton.

It isn't a book that would appeal to everyone, but those interested in Sussex life, and it's vernacular architecture, would find it fascinating. Back in the early 50's my father built a lovely house which followed in the tradition of local architecture, with the upper story hung with hand-made tiles, etc. Reading E M's book, I note that her attention to detail seemed very similar.

The book also contains a small chapter dedicated to our old village of West Chiltington.

Not long now!

We now have just over a week left of our stay in France, and we have so much to do. With daytime temperatures of 40 C, working outdoors after about 9 am, and before 8 pm, is almost impossible.

Our guests leave at the weekend, and we've been obliged to shorten our own stay by one day due to our hotel being fully booked for the day on which we wished to travel. This has also meant that we've had to change our channel crossing time. Things are ganging-up on us.

Preparing the house for over-wintering is always stressful. As we shall be away for the next 9 months, nothing must be overlooked. The pool must be closed down correctly, all the excess garden growth cut back, and all the grass cut. Indoors everything needs to be dust-covered, services closed-off, and everything secured. The whole house will also need to be cleaned. The house is never in a better state than on the day we leave! It doesn't sound like much, but it all takes time.

One of my major tasks is to remove a very old, and extensive Vine. Its fruit hangs down in front of our covered terrace, and at this time of year attracts Hornets. Sadly, as beautiful and big as it is, it has to go. It will be replaced by a Wisteria which is already in waiting.

The fridges and freezer need to be emptied and cleaned, and all contents either eaten or disposed of. Nothing must remain that will 'go off' during our absence. All rubbish (and there's plenty of it) must be taken to the bins, and all the recycling taken to special receptacles.

And most importantly, Billy must have his pre-travel pill, and have it confirmed in his passport.

I really hate leaving here. It feels like having a part of me torn off without anaesthetic. It's the home I love the most, and after 50 years of residence in our village (and about 40 in this house) I'm being turfed out because silly people voted to leave the EU (although a part of me doesn't blame them).

What I must do now is make a list of tasks. Nothing must be omitted. Keys will have to be left in a secure spot, windows firmly closed, and outdoor water taps, etc, covered against frost. Everything must be LOCKED.

It's a really horrible feeling, and in many ways I can hardly wait until we hit the road for Blighty. Have it all done and over with!

I shall be very sorry to leave our peaceful little home, but equally excited to return to Busy-Brighton. The contrast is always intoxicating.