Mom's Birthday

I'm posting this on the right date, but admit to being rather late on this, which sort or surprises me. If there is any birthdate I'm ready to remember, it's Mom's. But life has been rather busy lately and much of it has had me thinking of her.

I always think of her when I'm sewing, but also when knitting. She taught me knitting and crochet when I was very young - 7 or 8 years old. I remember making a crochet poodle, named Pierre when I was 8. I'm sure I had loads of help. 

I also remember one Christmas in my 20s when she gave me a dozen sweaters she'd knitted for me in the previous year. I was astounded. I'm sad to say I can only recall a few:

a grey cardigan

an oatmeal coloured dolman sleeved sweater (jumper)

3 vests (waistcoats) in baby blue, light pink and purple

short sleeved sweaters (jumpers) in cranberry and another a red

I know I still have the first two and the blue waistcoat up on the attic. I'm sad I can't remember the other five sweaters, perhaps they'll come to me in time. They were all made with acrylic yarn except the dolman sleeved thing which was cotton. They weren't exactly up to date styles either, but I wore them as much as I could. Perhaps the other five were just too unfashionable, I don't recall. I remember the red short sleeved top was a bit scratchy and I wore a cami underneath to make it tolerable to wear.

My roses didn't fare well this year after we ran off to Scotland for a couple of weeks (to see Sarah and her young family) when they most needed dead heading. When I finally tidied them up there wasn't much left. These white roses were hanging down, droopy, so I cut them and put them on the dining table. I didn't know if the buds would bloom, but they did and I've just caught them before they began to drop petals. When thinking about this post I remembered that white roses are a symbol of eternal love. The words 'white rose' are engraved on Mom's wedding ring, which I now wear as mine. 

I've been busy working on a sweater for 3 month old Isla, Bill's newest (and probably last) grandchild. Since her mother, Sarah, has Isla's brother Struan calling me 'Grandma Shelley' and has been quite positive about the idea of my knitting and sewing for her kids, I guess I can say I'm knitting a cardigan for my granddaughter, Isla. It feels a bit weird to say that, but it's lovely at the same time. 

I also managed to crochet a frog for Struan. He named him Gordon. I'm still working on the dinosaur pattern, I may need to consult with some other knitters who managed this one.

I found this pattern on a blog called Oliver Boliver. I can see there is a lot more there to explore.

We had a wonderful weekend, in spite of the rainy weather. We had barbequed chicken, potato salad and carrots and broccoli in the tent, after I toasted/microwaved Struan's dinner: beans on toast. He sat in the motorhome quietly entertaining himself while I cooked dinner, careful to instruct me he needed butter on his toast. 

We had a lovely walk in the woods at Kielder Forest, taking in all the sites and signs. It rained quite hard at one point but as I was very warm and mostly waterproof, I loved it. It wasn't warm rain but it did feel like being a child again and playing in the rain. The raindrops on all the different plants sparkled beautifully after. We walked past the first really dark forest I believe I've ever seen - completely black and impenetrable. Sadly, I didn't think to bring my camera.

Saturday night it was raining so we all crammed into the motorhome - my covid red flags all seemed to have evaporated somehow, but then all the adults are fully vaccinated. We had barbequed ribs, rice and ratatouille (leftover from another meal at home). Sarah and Gareth provided wine and desserts for both meals and I got to 'cook for company' for the first time in ages. 

Struan came back to supervise my making his dinner again Saturday and watched me packing up Sunday morning. It may have been that he enjoyed being in a new space, one without a baby sister, but he let me cuddle him a bit and help him on and off with his waterproofs. I felt wholly honoured by his company. I'm grateful Sarah is a generous woman to give me 'granny rights'. My Mom would be so pleased for me. 

Knole and Numbers

One of the books I read while we were in France was Inheritance, by Robert Sackville-West. It could easily have been called Disinherited, as many of his stories included those less fortunate than himself. He doesn't own Knole, but he is entitled to live there, which is probably a much better deal in these modern times.



I ran across his description of the great stairwell that made reference to Maarten de Vos (or Maerton deVos) and scribbled it down, so pleased to have found it.

I have already mentioned that Knole is thought to be, or at least to have been, a Calendar House; they are apparently fairly rare. 

One of the other things I remembered was reading (or was it hearing?) some guide leaflet/recording about all the decorations of the Grand Staircase. One of the main things was a nude statue underneath the stairs of a ballerina who had been a long term lover of one of the Sackville-Wests. Her story is well-covered in the book, but I think the statue was buried in the basement for quite a while after the wife came along.

The decoration of the actual stairwell includes carvings and paintings concerning the four seasons (easy enough); the five senses are easy, too, even if I had to think about it and count on my fingers. (If you don't have a 'gratitude list' for your 'down' days, I recommend you write one and put each of those senses on it.)

I Googled the heck out of Maarten de Vos and didn't find much, but it does look as though this 16th Century Flemish painter had a large influence on subsequent artists. According to deVos there are Four Stages in the life of Man: Amor (Love), Labor (Work), Honor (Achievement?) and Dolor (Pain). Gosh, I'm really looking forward to getting old after winkling out the definition of 'Dolor'. He did paintings of each of these, but the ones at Knole are by a later painter.

Also according to the stairwell (and a few other sources) there are Seven Virtues. I had the impression at the time these were carvings on the banister or newel posts, but I never figured it out, there is so much going on in a relatively small space. 

In looking all these things up, I ran into some odd words. 

According to painter Brueghel (Pieter the Elder), the Seven Deadly Sins are:

Pride, Avarice, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath and Acedia

The last word apparently means apathy or sloth.

When looking for the 7 Virtues, I found reference to 

Wisdom, Justice, Charity, Faith, Hope, Fortitude and Temperance

but also to 'Liberality' and Sapientia (which translates as Prudence)

Wikipedia / The Bible has : Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Diligence, Patience, Kindness, Humility

I would guess 'Liberality' goes in line with 'Kindness', perhaps Fortitude with Patience and/or Diligence. However, I note that the arts don't give much attention to 'Chastity', or 'Humility' for that matter. 

The visitors' information provided at Knole pointed out that the artwork on the Great Stairs did not include the virtue of 'Temperance', a funny little thing which is probably why I remembered all this to begin with.

Anchovy Sauce

So, this is sort of about France, but not really. The photo is a front door in Bourdeaux (Drome) France (not Bordeaux the big city in Western France). 

I always let myself buy a few magazines to while away the driving hours. I've also discovered the joys of bullet journals, though I am in no way as dedicated as some. As a compulsive note-taker this has been quite satisfying.

So, I read and took notes on (English) magazines while we were in France. I also made a notebook, but that's another post.

Wanting to eat more oily fish, which are healthy, and having survived a venture into (ick) anchovy eating via a recipe on The Frugal Scholar, I bought more anchovies, but didn't remember to bring the recipe (and didn't think to look it up). I happened across one in a magazine and scribbled it down.

Bill asked what on earth we were going to do with the anchovies and I brought forth this recipe:

Anchovy Sauce for 6

75 ml olive oil, 3 cloves garlic (minced), 150 g anchovies (drained), 1/2 tsp chilli flakes

Heat olive oil on low heat (it burns easily), add anchovies which "melt" in the heat; add minced garlic and chilli flakes. Serve over pasta.

Simple enough. Bill was cooking so he used the olive oil the anchovies came in. And he halved the ingredients more or less for just us two.

We did something (else) odd: we took our bathroom scales with us on holiday in France. We've both been losing weight slowly and I really didn't want to find it all again while we were away. Weighing faithfully each morning kept us conscious of our choices.

The weather being really warm, we had protein and a big salad most nights. The night(s) we had anchovies over 'pasta', there was a handful of bow-shaped pasta in there, but it was mostly strips of courgette (aka zucchini). 

When I was a teenager working in pizza places I really hated handling those anchovies and I never ate one until recent years. They are very 'fishy', but having met and loved smoked salmon, I don't really mind 'fishy' and in addition, anchovies are oily and very salty. Oil and salt are two of my favourite food groups, so while I wouldn't have anchovy sauce every night, it is a reasonable dish on 'fish' night.

Handwork at Bateman's

So, I was last talking about our visit to Bateman's, home of Rudyard Kipling. I said I found it quite homespun and that I would explain that remark. 

Countries in Europe

I think it was all the examples of needlework I noticed.

Sorry about the reflection! A map of England's counties.

Embroidered maps of England and Europe first caught my eye. 

Parts of the UK. Interesting that the North Sea is called the German Ocean, among other different names.

The Kiplings' bed had embroidered hangings and bedspread. 

I believe one of the volunteers there said a local embroiderers' guild had done a copy of the original or extensive repairs or something. 

Even the ceiling of the canopy was embroidered. 



I believe a lot of this was the work of Kipling's wife, Caroline. I don't know if she will have done the needlework on the bed curtains, but I'm pretty sure she did the piece for the canopy.

The initials RK and CK under a tree of life.

There were a lot of pillows, a footstool or two and a firescreen which all looked to be the work of a busy needlewoman.

I doubt she did the tapestry in the hallway and probably not the curtains, but there are many textiles that have that sort of look.

It is at least one part of what made me think it would be lovely to live there. 

A quilted bedspread in their son John's room.

We get to see a lot of really grand houses as members of the National Trust. 

They are wonderful to walk around and see the history.

Add caption

 However, there aren't many of them that make me wish I lived there, not like Bateman's.

I get lost too easily!

Batemans

The next National Trust property on Bill's list was Bateman's, the home of Rudyard Kipling. It was the 'homeliest' of the houses. [In the States, we use the word 'homely' to describe a plain or unattractive woman; in the UK it is used to describe a house as warm and inviting, or home-ly]. I prefer the latter use, don't you?

Still fairly large by today's standards, it just escaped being a museum, though museum it was. The house is Jacobean, ie built in the 1600s. 

[I    had an American friend once ask me what was meant by 'Victorian' or 'Georgian'. Just in case you don't know, 'Victorian' refers to the time period of Queen Victoria's reign, roughly the 1800s. Before her there were several King Georges in a row. Jacobean refers to King James.]

Anyhow Bateman's is full of dark wood paneling and Kipling aimed to furnish the house in the same period. The darkness made it difficult to take good photos (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it).





If   you were paying attention at Knole, you'll recognize this style of couch. 

[There is a whole 'thing' over here about class and language and what you call your couch / sofa / settee / davenport tells a lot about you. If you are interested in such things, I recommend Kate Fox's Watching the English.]

The house is of course very Indian in the furnishings, but I found it quite home-spun and very British as well. I will look for some examples for my next post to explain that view. 




We loved the garden/cafe so much we had lunch there before we toured and tea there afterwards. More about gardens later.

I found it hard to leave Batemans, I loved it so. I could easily imagine living there.



I'm aiming for slightly shorter, more manageable posts as life is quite busy just now. So I shall stop here and pick it up again later.

Knole House - Part II

Continued from here.

[Notes from the tower roof]

Looking East - more town than house"The great house lay more like a town than a house...with all its chimneys smoking busily as if inspired with a life of their own."  Virginia Woolf, describing Knole in her novel Orlando, 1928

Underneath these rooftops lies a labyrinth of apartments, each containing several rooms. These apartments once housed hundreds of people including high status staff, visitors and family members. The Sackville-West family still live in apartments here, over 400 years since the first family member lived at Knole.
Did you know:

• Knole house stands on five acres of ground, around the size of three and a half football pitches

• There are over 300 rooms

• Knole has 51 chimneys. How many can you spot?

The problem for me about Knole was that at the beginning of the tour most things were covered with dust sheets, in glass cases. I found it hilarious that there were signs on a lot of pieces (like enormous vases, or ornate chairs) printed with the word 'salvage'. I had to ask what this was about as I wondered if these items had been picked up from a salvage yard, though it seemed unlikely. 





Turns out there is a very particular protocol in the event of a fire or other disaster about what will be saved first and these labels referred to the priority of the items in that protocol. And, by the way, those glass cases were surrounded by scaffolding. Up the stair case there are more, wait for it, dust sheets and scaffolding.  I was beginning to feel like my first/last trip to New York back in 1980, when we drove through at 3 am and the Statue of Liberty was shrouded for repairs.




However, it is a rather large building and there were certain galleries one could tour. I learned during one of my tours of some old house way back when that the word gallery describes a long hall on one side of a house where the ladies and gentlemen would take some exercise, walking up and down. One side was often full of windows, in later years when glass was more available/affordable. 




For the edification and enjoyment of said noble people, one or both walls would be hung with oil paintings for them to enjoy whilst taking their exercise. So I gather this is how we came to have art 'galleries'. The galleries at Knole did not have windows, except at the ends, however, at least not the ones I saw.

https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/knole

I've borrowed this photo from the National Trust website because I remember reading that Vita had written a poem about the waiting arms of those chairs that would never hold another person. So even in her day the place was a museum.

Looking North - a medieval deer partKnole Park is home of a wild deer herd. They are the descendants of those first introduced here over 500 years ago. Thomas Bourchier, Archbishiop of Canterbury, bought the Knole estate in 1456. He enclosed the land and created the deer park, which has been a feature of Knole ever since. It is Kent's last remaining medieval deer park.

"And as for Knole [it] standeth on a sound perfect, wholesome ground. And if I should make mine abode here, as I do surely mind to do now and then, I myself will lie at Knole'  Henry VIII quoted in 1532.

Archbishop Thomas Crammer (! should be Cranmer) surrendered Knole to Henry VIII. The king purchased more land and by 1556 Knole Park covered 446 acres. Did you Know? 

• Today Knole Park covers 1,000 acres. It is 7.5 times bigger than St James' Park in London

• There are over 350 wild deer in Knole Park

• Two types of deer live here: Fallow deer (smooth, spotted coats, darker coats in winter) [and] Sika deer (thick, spiky, dark brown coats, chuncky bodies).

I remember a few other items. One was a black pitcher, like for water or ale or something, made out of leather. Another was an old bed (you know, the kind with curtains) still in pieces, being cleaned by a young man. He was using just water and just rubbing the black pieces of wood; I think he said it was walnut, but I'm not sure. He told us that the attics were so vast they still hadn't been fully explored and all the findings catalogued, even though the National Trust acquired the place in 1946 (70 years ago!). That made me positively itch to grab a flashlight - sorry, 'torch' - and go exploring!

Those things are leopards, added by Thomas Sackville West.

In another room there was a bed covered and curtained with some sort of green fabric, I think - holey green fabric if I recall correctly. The guide there explained that some inexperienced restorers from some workers' cooperative had used modern glue to stick the fabric back onto the wood, rather than the old fashioned fish glue. This modern glue had eaten the fabric and they were painstakingly trying to restore the old cloth. I had two thoughts at the time. One was how quickly they were ready to name and blame outsiders; the other was the enormous expense of restoring such a large amount of fabric. I would just frame a square or two and put up modern fabric, a copy of the original. Probably best that I don't work in restoration, eh?






Knole House is called a Calendar House, that is a house that has architectural features in quantities that mirror the numbers in a year. Knole reportedly has 365 rooms, 52 stair cases, 12 entrances and 7 courtyards (give or take). Makes me wonder if we could call this a calendar house with 365 boxes of junk in the loft, 52 wine glasses, 12 doors and 7 potted plants...perhaps not; this is a dangerous concept, when I couldn't sleep last night I found myself thinking about what I could count.

One more thing that has come back to me is one of the guides telling me about a Knole couch. If you ever watched/drooled over Downton Abbey you know exactly what one looks like (the big red one to the left of the fireplace in the library). I see them occasionally in windows around Tynemouth and there is one, oddly enough, at The Centurian pub next to the Central Station in Newcastle. 

Looking West - a visiting tradition"From Sevenoaks we went to Knowle. The park is sweet, with much old beech, and an immense sycamore before the great gate." Horace Walpole, writing in 1752.As a visitor to Knole Park you are part of an old tradition. Visitors from the locla area and further afield have enjoyed access to Knole Park since the 17th century. A dispute over public right of way led to Mortimer, 1st Lord Sackville, closing the park in June 1884. Local people were furious and on the night of 18th June 1884, over a thousand people stormed the park. They broke down barricades before marching to the front of the house, below where you are standing. The town's people smashed windows and hurled abuse.   

The Orangerie

You'll notice there are obvious similarities with Sissinghurst, the long structure with an archway in the centre and a tower where photos are allowed. The squares formed by the walls reminded me of the fantastic garden walls at Sissinghurst. On the whole, I found Sissinghurst much more lovable, more livable. Not just because of its more moderate size (well, it's all relative) but things like the vast collection of books (on 6" deep shelves) and the lavish garden made it seem more like a home than a museum.

The only other story I remember was about Edward, Vita's cousin who inherited from her uncle. Edward apparently was also a writer, though not as successful as Vita. He lived in the Tower, I suspect because it was cheaper to heat. The tower had some interesting architecture of course, but the facilities were a bit primitive, particularly the hot water system. Edward entertained guests but was known to warn them that there was only enough hot water for one bath -- after he'd had his bath.

Looking South - a fashionable additionThe long building on the south side of Green Court probably dates from around 1603-1608. It was transformed into an Orangery in 1823. Orangeries were fashionable spaces used to house expensive citrus trees and other exotic plants. It was used for entertaining guests with games such as cards. It is south facing to take advantage of the sunlight, but was also heated by a steam engine so that guests wouldn't catch a chill in the evenings.

Vita didn't care for Edward and I remember reading something to the effect that she didn't mind ... can't recall what word she used for homosexual ... but he was just too ... something like 'limp-wristed'. In fact, writing this I found a quote that she called him as 'floppy as an un-staked delphinium in the wind'. I found that pretty funny considering her sexual inclinations. I think that she really didn't like him because he had Knole. The only other thing I remember about Edward was that he ran away from Knole and set up house with his lover in Ireland. He offered up Knole to the next in line, but kept his title.

I did wonder about the dark coloured deer; should have read the signs on the roof instead of just snapping them. But now I know.

Now I'm not clear about whether or not Edward owned Knole, or just the right to live there. I'm thinking that his father Charles, who inherited instead of Vita, must have handed over Knole to the National Trust, as Charles was living in 1946 when it went to them.

Still, the family seem to have some entitlement besides living there, and I suppose it depends upon one's inclinations and interest. Descendants of Vita and Harold still live at Sissinghurst, I believe, and have written probably dozens of books about the place and the people. I see that Lionel Sackville-West (Vita's father) wrote a visitors' guide to Knole House, published in 1906. I stumbled upon a couple of books that may go on my Christmas wishlist, both by Robert Sackville-West, 7th Baron Sackville. One is called The Inheritance, the other The Disinherited. Writing seems to be in the Sackville blood, doesn't it? Or maybe it's just living in towers. I just know I would be a more elegant and prolific writer if my writing room was in a tower.


I must admit that even though I didn't enjoy Knole as well as other National Trust Properties, I'm not at all sorry we went. And for once, it looks like I've managed to write more than I photographed. One thought that rattled around while walking through Knole was that in spite of being a very large house associated with powerful historical figures, today it seems more famous for who did not inherit it than the ones who did: Sissinghurst is far more famous than Knole. It strikes me that perhaps this is proof of that adage that 'the best revenge is to live well'. 

I shall leave you with a copy of the entrance ticket, a piece of art by Vita as a child, depicting a leopard. Leopards are a symbol of the Sackville-West family, decorating their home and their coat of arms. 

I've stacked up a pile of internet links, which I'll list below, in case you are interested. I would have scattered them in the text, but don't have time to argue with Blogger about formatting. I'm sure my computer will be greatly relieved to have them closed at last.

The National Trust about Knole

The National Trust about Vita and Knole

Photos inside Knole House

Article about present Baron's books / photo of Colonnade room

Blog of the Knole Conservation Team (added to my bloglist!)


Wikipedia entry about Knole (more history than National Trust)

From the Manor Torn: article about woman who didn't inherit Knole

Charles Sackville 6th Earl of Dorset who bagged the W&M hand-me-downs

More about Knole House, including Shelley's Tower

Review of Knole House on Trip Advisor

Knole couches

Knole House - Part I

Today (and for several more) we will be visiting Knole. Of all the places we visited last summer, this was my least favourite. Except for the shop; there were a lot of temptations in the shop. 

The first glimpse of Knole - and that's just one side of it.

I have learned in my old age that I'm quite susceptible to the shops in museums, National Trust properties and garden centres; they just seem to have more attractive junk. You know, stuff with decidedly middle-class and slightly more artistic aspirations than at Everything a Pound.

This tower is called Bourchier Tower, after the man who had it built.

One reason I didn't like Knole as well is that photos were not allowed indoors. I've gotten quite spoiled to being able to take non-flash photos, even at a price. 

Loads of wonky pics in this lot, must have been off-kilter that day. day.

Bill and I both are struggling to remember much about Knole. But never mind, I'll report what I can, and I'm finding bits surface as I research this. 

This is the other side of the green from the first picture with a statue.
The scale of the place is unbelievable.

It is actually a bit backwards, writing about Sissinghurst and then writing about Knole House, as Knole is where Vita Sackville-West grew up, the only child of Lionel Edward, 3rd Baron Sackville and his cousin Victoria Sackville-West, the illegitimate daughter (one of five children) of a Spanish dancer and the 2nd Baron Sackville. 




Although Vita was the only child, as a female she could not inherit and with her father's death her uncle Charles became the 4th Baron Sackville and owner of Knole House, followed by her cousin, Edward.

Shabby chic, or naturally bleached? Only the gamekeeper knows for sure.

I gather there is a very long history (it was built by an Archbishop of Canterbury in the mid 1400's) of making people unhappy, mainly the ones who didn't manage to inherit it. 




On the other hand, there was at least one owner who felt oppressed by the responsibility of so many priceless artifacts in one of England's largest houses, the above mentioned cousin Edward.  I'm not clear about whether Edward actually owned Knole or just was entitled to live there and perhaps had a role in managing it. More about him later.

The house is history itself, no doubt about it. The west face was built by Henry VIII who took it off Thomas  Cranmer in 1538. The first of Vita Sackville-West's family to own it was Thomas Sackville, a cousin of Elizabeth I through Anne Boleyn. A very long chain of other Sackville / Sackville-West / Earls De La Warr / Earls and Dukes of Dorset / Barons Sackville-West descendants fortunate enough to be a) male and b) legitimate have not only inherited Knole House but been something or other at Court, at least up until the past 100 years or so.  

The present day (7th) Baron Sackville-West lives in a 9 bedroom apartment at Knole. There was possibly one female who managed to inherit back in the 1800s, but I'm guessing this was at least in part because she married her cousin, another Sackville-West. One does begin to worry about all that inbreeding...

Anyhow, speaking of Court, Charles, 6th Earl of Dorset (1638-1706), was Lord Chamberlain to William (as in William and Mary). They took over from James II, who had the nerve to be Catholic, and apparently during the period of transition (the Glorious Revolution, it was called) they got rid of a lot of stuff, which Charles was happy to take. (Though Bill seems to think he just helped himself and they didn't necessarily have a clear out, but I'm sure they did). In any case the place is full of very important, very rare pieces.

So, this has gotten rather long and I'm going to chop it into several posts. To be continued...