My England................

I finished reading "A Fine Romance" ......I didn't want it to end. Every page was wonderful. It made me so homesick. It made me determined to go back soon. Susan Branch has an eye for what makes England so special. The details, the things she notices. The things I love. Only someone who truly loves the place would see it as she does. So..........what is it?

One of her comments was that everything in England seems to have been made by hand. Places as old as Stonehenge and the cottages that have thrived for 500 to 800 years. The gardens that surrounds the castles and the cottages. The fact that the National Trust keeps things for posterity. People have no reserves in handing off their property to give to the country. Its so wonderful. In the days when the aristocracy dominated the lands and were the owners of vast properties, there came a time when the money runs out and rather than sell to be built on they gave it to us all. Forever. So our children and grandchildren can enjoy it forever into the distant future. Their legacy lives on and we can share it. So many of them open the homes they still live in so that their art treasures can be seen and appreciated. The amount that they get from the public may help them somewhat but it must cost a fortune (that many no longer have) to keep those places running and so when they reach the end of their pockets then the National Trust can carry on.

We have had "The Green Belt" a vast stretch of land surrounding the city that is supposed to always stay "green" meaning no more building. Or only with a special permit. Some people have got through the restrictions somehow but its rare. So we can be assured that some country lasts for the wild things.
The hedgerows and meadows protected. As they should be. Some of those hedgerows have been there forever. They are a work of art. For someone who is not a farmer or a country person, or even British to appreciate that thrills the heck out of me. Susan Branch got it, understood and appreciated it. She was there at the right time for all the best things that England has to offer. The Spring, between May and June. You will see the lambs, the bluebells and all the wildflowers.
Primrose and Cowslip

The oldness of it all, the history of it all...............I love the very dirt of England and all thats buried in it. Is that strange? There is so much under the surface, all our ancestors hidden in lost places along with their story. I could never never never give up my loyalty for my country. I could never be anything but English. She made me feel that in every bone of my body. I am grateful that I read that book. I treasured every page of it. Then there is our lovely Queen Elizabeth and her family. I have never been able to take that oath of citizenship, to be an American, it says that I owe no fealty to any King or Queen and only to the United States. I can't do it. It says "without reservation" ........nope just cant do it, I cant say it with my fingers crossed. I have to mean it, to want it and I don't.

She even liked the food. Susan that is. I never understood how England got the reputation for bad food because I think its awesome. Don't get me started

Then there are the country roads. The animals

I could go on and on and on...............I found Susan Branch's blog, I am so happy with that and will enjoy that now. I am sad I finished the book but I won't put it away, not yet. I am going to explore some of her other books because she has shared some good recipes.
So for now I am saving my pennies and I hope she goes back and writes another book haha.................or maybe I will.

Sheep........

I have always liked sheep. They are quiet shy creatures that are a big part of the English countryside. We seldom see sheep here in Michigan. Over there they are everywhere, especially in the north and in Wales. Nah......they are everywhere. The thing is, in the south they are more likely to be in their fields. When you go up into Yorkshire and the Dales or the Lake district and Scotland, well they are everywhere. They don't care about boundaries, oh no......they are on the roads, on the stone walls everywhere. Pretty often one has to wait while the farmer gets them from one field to another. In that part of the country you can travel on "gated roads" they are interesting to say the least. They are real roads but they will travel through fields and go through farm yards. One time we ended up in a flock of sheep on top of a hill, wonderful views. Had to keep getting in and out of the car to open and close gates. It was awesome. Certainly memorable. We would wind our way through country lanes with sheep standing on the stone walls, sometimes above us.....it made me feel they may jump down onto the car any minute. Those pictures are hidden away somewhere and in any case too small and faded now to bother putting on the computer. So I rely on others pictures to show my own memories. One of the nice things about being on my friends farm during lambing time, we would get to look after the babies abandoned by their mums. Mrs Dryden would have them nestled next to the fire on a blanket. We would teach them to suckle and then take a bottle. You have to dip your fingers in the milk and stick it in the mouth, then when it gets the idea to suck you can stick the nipple in its mouth. Their little gums are hard and they suck quite strong unless they are sick. The little hooves remind us its not a puppy dog and the tight curls are rough as well as soft. The first time I saw something being born was a lamb. Country life can be sweet.........it can also be harsh. I was also aware of things like Anthrax outbreaks in Scotland and the farms around us dealing with Foot and Mouth disease. Farmers could loose entire herds and the smell of roasting flesh permeated the air. Clouds of smoke coming from farm after farm. We would have to wash our boots in disinfectant going on to the farm and coming back off. Glad that for the most part those days are rare now. ............................................................................................... PS someone had asked about the paint marks on the sheep and this is a reply from someone who reads my blog. I thought it would be nice to show his reply (with his permission) "Living on a sheep farm, I can confirm that to reach my house by car in the middle of the 'secret valley' you have to open and shut two gates to stop the sheep from disappearing. They are free to roam over a large portion of the valley but seem to prefer standing in the middle of the road holding up the traffic :-) The sheep also have coloured marks of spray paint on them and the colour can denote many things - who they belong to, which ones will give birth first, which ones are having twins and, I'm afraid, which ones will be going off to market. Loved your post, so accurate. Our Cotswolds region of England has more sheep than people living in it and even has its own rare breed named after the hills - the Cotswold sheep." Johnson

Old Friends.............

One of the great things about Facebook is that one can find so many old friends there. Many I have not seen since I was a child in school, some were teen friends and some were work friends. Who ever they are its magical that we can catch up now after so many years. I started a group for the village in England that we all grew up in. Its been amazing seeing them come in and just begin chatting about how things used to be back in our day. Our village was a rural farming community that did not change much from the beginning its in the Doomsday Book. At some point it was a Saxon village and then the Romans built a road through to the north that went on by. The church is Saxon and has not changed since then.


Our families have been there as long as records have been kept, either in that village or close by. People did not move far until the 1950s and 1960s and life remained pretty much the same. It was our generation that changed everything but it began after the war when we were chosen to take on a lot of the London people. New homes had to be built and new jobs found as London was rebuilt, along with Coventry and many other cities. So they brought in car factories to replace the straw hat trade that sustained the area for a hundred years or so and the new Londoners moved into council houses to take on the work. Over the next years the village was pretty much demolished. So it is that in this Facebook group we remember our childhood. How free we were. Most of us would go outside after breakfast go find a mate and off we would go, sometimes alone. I know I would go for miles across the fields with a friend or on my own and just look around. No particular goal in mind but learning the names of the wildflowers (Dad got me a book) and birds and their nests. A friend and I collected eggs and got to know where to find and identify them. I remember being thrilled when I found a Wrens nest, so pretty and well made. We climbed trees, fell out of them or caught our clothes on barbed wire and ripped them. I remember the first electric fence I saw and how we would "test" it. I have been chased by a herd of cows and attacked my a mother hen. Stung by wasps and just about everything you may imagine but was never really hurt. My parents could never have known where I was, they were working and I was free to do as I chose, and I did. We would play in the chalk pits and visit the farms. Climb the cliffs and fish for Tadpoles and Sticklebacks. There was never such a thing as being bored, we made and invented our own fun. No TV because even when we did get one in 1952 there was nothing on during the day. Not that much at night for that matter. Maybe on a rainy day we would listen to the stories on the radio. We collected food boxes and played at stores or we played school or we made mud pies. There was never a lack of things to do. From what I have heard on the group, the boys were way more adventuresome and their territory was more within the village and with each other, mine was a more solitary existence. I preferred that. The village Chemist would pay us to go gather things like Elderberries and other things that they needed and we got paid a pittance for doing something we loved to do anyway.


This is me at Grove Farm aged around 16

I already spoke about the time I spent on the farm. My friend Margaret lived on Grove Farm and that was my main hang out in the summer time and any weekend I could get there. Never a lack of things to do there for kids.
Sometimes I would walk to my Grandmothers several miles away along a more busy road but I may have stopped in at my Aunt Nellie's house or maybe caught a bus, it depended upon the weather. Nan never knew to expect me, we didn't have a phone and neither did she. When I had enough of that I would take off and walk across the hills to Dunstable and visit my Auntie Ivy and Uncle Norman. They worked nights so I knew that by afternoon they would be there. I loved to lay on the side of the hills and just watch the clouds, the sound of bees in the Harebells and Daisies. Larks singing in the sky and the sun warm on my face. I suppose I may have dozed off on occasion, after all it was a lot of walking. There was a small Spinney up on the hills and Bluebells grew there. It was not far as the crow fly's to my aunts house and after a brief visit and cup of tea I could catch the bus home. No one had a car so it was up to me to get myself home by tea time. We could play outside until the street lights came on and then all the kids would go inside unless a few stragglers would hold out under the street light until called inside. We have some wonderful memories and a childhood that is now a thing of the past. One that I am just so grateful for


pictures from the web with no credits. If I have inadvertently taken your picture please do let me know and I will delete it or give you credit.


I am linking up with Brambleberry Cottage Time travel Thursday.

Old Friends.............

I love Facebook. I just check in every day and say hello to friends all over the globe. Some are new and some are old. Some I have not seen in 40+ years and some I have never met. Its a wonderful thing this technology. I enjoy small glimpses into their daily lives and giving them a part of my own. I know we can't tell a lot about each other in such brief encounters but its a connection, and one that is so easy now. Before it was a matter of setting aside time to write a letter and mailing it, then waiting for the reply. Now it's instant if you want it to be. It's also a great way to share photos and just so much more. There was a group started on Facebook about the town near where I came from.....Dunstable. I had fun reading that and a friend thought we should start one on Houghton Regis and so I did. What great fun that has become. The group has grown by leaps and bounds and so many stories and pictures being shared. It has got people outside into our old haunts taking pictures to show everyone and rummaging through their own collections of old pictures. Oh the memories. We are remembering how our village used to be when we were growing up. Nothing like the place it has become. Some of the younger members do not remember the village any different to what it is now and they are learning how some of the place names came about and what it was once upon a time when us old folks were young. For most of us old Houghtonians the village had not changed since our fathers days and grandfathers all the way back to the beginning. It was a small village with gas lights and thatched roofs. A farm community with a village pond and a green that was used for the original purpose. The pond for wagons to go through so that the wood in the wheels would not become brittle. The Village green became the place for soccer and cricket and a play area for kids. They took out one of the big farms to build the London overspill estate and tore down the old Tithe Barn and all the farm buildings in order to make it. All the thatched roof cottages are gone, the public houses have dwindled or become eateries now.




Some lovely buildings remain, just a glimpse of what we once knew. The church that has stood for hundreds of years. The Kings Arms. The Chequers. The manor house on the green is still there with its tunnels that are supposed to go all the way to the church, blocked in now no doubt. The Crown public house is still there but little else of the old village. The ponds are gone and built upon. There are faint signs here and there, where the hairdressers are you can still see exposed beams from way way back. The village we knew was quiet and slow moving, everyone knew everyone and their families knew each other from hundreds of years back. Those same families are most likely gone now because the children (like me) moved away. There is only one Hines left in the village and he had girls.





Talking to others from the village about the places we played and the things we did, its a far cry from what children do now. We were content outside, finding our own games and troubles to be in. The pranks that kids got up to were so innocent compared to what people do now. No less troublesome to the parents of the time no doubt. Back then our village police man rode a bike and he would take a child home for punishment if the need arose. In my dads day the local Bobby would deliver a good "thick ear" and take the offender home for another one from the father of the child. Today we are not allowed to do much about wayward children and the world is a worse place for that.



Us girls loved to pick wild flowers. We climbed trees and played in the chalk pits and fields. Innocent but fun games with our friends. We didnt need or want toys we made our own fun. Just as well as no one had the money for them. Inside things were books and crayons and paints. Outside we made our own chassis out of old pram wheels we found that had been dumped in the hedgerows by the visiting gypsy band. We got wooden boxes from the grocers if we could and spent ages putting it all together to race them down Bidwell Hill. We were scavengers. I never had a bike and neither did any of my friends. We would go down to the Green to play on the swings though or traipse along the footpaths in search of birds nests or rabbits lairs. Mud pies and dugout dens or tree houses were the big thing to do. I remember Mick Bird and myself digging out an underground home that we put corrugated iron on for a roof, covered it in branches and got a candle to light the place up.We would just sit for ages in there thinking it was the best thing in the world especially if it rained.



Most of my childhood was spent with my friend Margaret who lived at Grove farm. We loved the outdoors and I learned a lot being there. I learned about what made the hedgerows and about the critters that lived there. The woods and fields and all that grew or lived in them. I saw how a sheep was shorn and dipped, and how to get eggs from under a cranky chicken. I saw a lamb being born and the wonder of it all..........baby cows and what a disaster foot and mouth disease used to be to the farmers and the animals. I remember fowl pest and farms being wiped out by it the smells of burning carcasses that permeated the air. Of having to walk through disinfectant to get on or off any of the farms to prevent the spread of disease.
I will be forever grateful for my life, for my childhood and now for being able to remember it again with old friends .