Countrybumpkin Blog

The day after Mark gave me my not very exclusive invitation to shop at Highgrove he came up with the news that the police and paramedics were swarming all over a cottage further down the lane. He wasn't allowed near, the police took the post from him. "You know him" he said, "Mr Bennett, lives opposite the Joneses, lives on his own".

I knew him by sight, in his fifties. The next day Mark gave the bad news, he had been found hanged, recently without a job - whether he had retired or been made redundant he didn't know. His sister who lived about fifteen miles away had raised the alarm as she hadn't been able to get in contact with him for a few days. I wonder what had gone through that poor man's mind that he could have taken his life.

Mark has been our postie since Gordon retired twenty years ago. He likes a chat and keeps us updated on what’s going on in the area also no doubt letting others know what we are up to.

Today he presented me with an A5 envelope, “it’s from a Royal” he said. “How do you know” was my obvious answer. “Well, it’s got the Royal postmark and the Prince of Wales feathers on the back.” Although I might feel it at times I knew I hadn’t just passed the hundred mark and I wasn’t in line for an OBE and as far as I knew Queenie hadn’t passed on and left him in charge.

I couldn’t leave Mark in suspense and opened it there and then. Inside was a thick invitation card with lots of squirly, whirly type, almost impossible to read but apparently I am invited to go Christmas shopping at Highgrove. Satisfied, Mark skidded off in his van to spread the news.

Now who was it who said that England was a nation of shopkeepers? Napoleon or more likely Adam Smith in 1776 who wrote in The Wealth of Nations.

'To found a great empire for the sole purpose of raising up a people of customers may at first sight appear a project fit only for a nation of shopkeepers. It is, however, a project altogether unfit for a nation of shopkeepers; but extremely fit for a nation whose government is influenced by shopkeepers.'

The gardens at Highgrove are open to organised groups throughout part of the year, the proceeds of which go to the Prince’s Charities Foundation. Apparently there is now a shop selling exclusive gifts and festive foods. Shall I go? I read the accompanying letter which said that due to high demand I would be joined by other guests during my visit! What a surprise.

A friend rang me from Australia today. We had met when we went to the local High School to do our A levels. We became great friends and did loads of things together. At school some of the teachers thought we were twins, but apart from being the same height and having long hair the similarity ended. I got told off for things she did and got called by her name and vice versa.

We both went to Canterbury, she to the University to read Philosophy and me to the Art College. We remained friends and would meet up frequently. After Uni she went on to do an MA or BA or whatever clever people do somewhere up north. Because our parents lived in neighbouring villages we kept in contact and saw each other when we were back seeing the parents.

She got married and she and her husband spent alot of time preparing to drive overland to South Africa in a Landrover. They never made it. We started to lose contact, next I heard she had divorced. I vaguely remember meeting up in Cornwall with her new husband, they were over from Australia, I can't remember what took her out there.

I was living in London and often I would have calls from friends of hers who were over here and needed somewhere to sleep for a while, so I was kept up with some of her news.

I last saw and spoke to her about twenty years ago when she came to stay with her two young children. Couldn't believe how quickly the years had passed, the phone call today was as if we had only spoken yesterday.

PS. How could I have forgotten, after our first year in Canterbury four of us drove to Istanbul in a Morris Minor.

Worn them for a few years now but noticed in the last couple of months I have affected the pushing up on the head mode. Suddenly realised that I could probably see better without them. Even got told off by Frankofyle for this affectation when we were in his favourite café where there were a few 'dahlings' with sun glasses pushed back through their highlights.

Came to a head when driving in Ireland recently when I had to get my chum to confirm the road signs.
So, today I had an another eyesight test, only ten months since the last one. Totally different prescription now. To the better I'm told and I had a good deal, a really trendy (a word that obviously ages me) pair of varifocals plus a pair to replace my computer ones. I look forward to seeing the world in a better light.

I've taken advantage of the few lovely mornings we've had recently and had a good sort out around the place. The ponies have been moved down to the valley to their winter grazing apart from the mare with the foal with one eye. Really she should be weaned from her mum now but I have nothing to put with her. The others were bullying her a bit so I had to keep them apart. They are now out on the hill and hopefully her mum will take her around and get her used to the open spaces and where to go for shelter.

The stables and sheep pens have been cleaned out to perfection, all ready for the swallows when they return in the Spring. I've washed all the buckets and troughs. All the baling twine has been collected up and ready to take to the tip along with empty feed bags. The feed shed, where the cats and the rabbit live has had a makeover, not quite in a Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen style but now all the feed bins have been cleaned out and lined up in an orderly manner.

My one remaining sheep has gone. A sheep on its own is not a happy sheep so she has joined Pete the Sheep's 500 strong flock next door. My husband seeing all this activity did think perhaps I could apply similar efforts to the house. No way, housework's boring!

Birthday that is.

Had a lie in, heard the daughter go off to work, husband letting the dogs out so surfaced at about 8.30am. Immediately bombarded by spaniels demanding a proper workout, so I headed off to the woods so they could pursue elusive smells.

Back for a cuppa before having to scrub up to go out for lunch. I knew I wouldn't be able to get away without going out for a meal! We went to what I suppose is known as a 'gastro pub' all cotswold stone, roaring fires and delicious food. However, the service was too intensive, if I was going to be asked for the seventh time if everything was OK I would have screamed. Leave me alone - I want to eat this food then I'll tell you whether it was OK or not. Cor, hints of grumpy old lady emerging.

As it was, the food was great, not as eye-poppingly expensive as some places he has taken me to, thank goodness because I do sometimes start to feel guilty. The cost of this meal could probably have fed an African child for a couple of weeks.

On the way out I spied my niece and her daughter, her partner's sister and son sneaking in for a late lunch so we joined them for a chat, pleasant times.

I did little during the afternoon, the garden was beckoning but I thought weeding and pruning could wait another day. Couldn't eat another thing all day, well perhaps a chocolate or two.

Birthdays come and go but occasionally there’s a big one. I know my husband in and out and know exactly what he would like to do for my birthday. This always involves an expensive meal out. Don’t get me wrong, I love my food as my figure will testify but I really would like to something more memorable than stuffing my face full of foie gras and a decent red wine.

Last year it was my 60th. I gave him multiple options knowing full well what he would choose in an area which would be within his comfort zone. 1: Visiting the Bayeux Tapestry and Monet’s gardens which meant staying in Honfleur. 2: Barcelona to see Gaudi’s work. 3: Paris to visit the Louvre, Pompidou Centre and the Jeu de Paume. 4: Amsterdam - to visit the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum again or 5: Marrakesh because I love the place.

Yup, I was right, Honfleur it was. As it happened he actually enjoyed himself as it was a lively place and when we visited it was the annual shrimp festival. The weather was gorgeous and the place was heaving with Parisians who were up for the day and had their little toy dogs stuffed into handbags, it was great for people watching. We saw the tapestry, well, I saw it four times as I was so amazed so had to keep going back to the beginning. Monet’s gardens were beautiful, I had been knocked out by his paintings when I went to Paris in my teens and then again when I visited when I was art school in the 60s, it was sensational to see his inspiration.

I also visited the local art galleries, he managed to trudge round behind me but I know he had no interest and was just waiting to get to a bar or a restaurant for lunch.

Today it is our 29th wedding anniversary. Nothing special is happening, I am about to put the oven on to cook a leg of lamb for supper. In four days time it is my birthday, this year it will be just another day again.

I never did find out if the girls were so pretty as the nearest I got this time was the airport. It was my third visit to Southern Ireland, the first as a fifteen year old to Dublin and then across to Shannon. In later years I went with a boyfriend and spent quite a debauched weekend in Dublin.

This time a chum and I picked up a hire car and then headed off to the Wicklow mountains where we went to see an Exmoor foal to see if it was of sufficient merit to be entered into the Stud Book. The directions were concise in Irish style, keep going until you see the burnt out house then turn right for a couple of miles, up the track then a few seconds later you’ll find us.

We found them. The foal duly passed inspection and despite having been microchipped as is the new EU regulation they decided to have the pony hot branded as well. Exmoor ponies have been hot branded for years and years, it makes them easily identified when free living on the moor, trying to scan a microchip from 50 metres is impossible, 50 centimetres is just about OK.

We were then treated to typical Irish hospitality, huge mugs of tea, mountains of bread and possibly half a side of bacon grilled to perfection to make a welcome bacon sarnie which filled a big gap as we had left home at 3.30 that morning.

After a good chat we headed off again at midday. This time to the north coast of Northern Ireland. The Nissan Micra did its best. We’d already had a paddy with the first car we’d been given as it was such a heap, the next one was slightly better but it wasn’t until we were well under way that we found out that we couldn’t charge up the sat nav as the cigarette lighter thing was defunct, so to conserve battery power we had to rely on a good old fashioned map.

The first night we stayed in Coleraine, a good meal and a couple of glasses of wine were consumed before we retired to bed. An alert from a text message woke us – at 9.30pm – we must have been tired!

We were due to meet up with the crew from the Northern Ireland Environment Agency in the morning who run free living herds of Exmoor ponies on Nature Reserves. We agreed to meet at a layby ‘just before the sharp left hand bend going to Magilligan’s Point’. The rendezvous was made.

There was a little bit of consternation as we had a car with Southern Ireland plates and we were due to cross UK MOD land to reach the Nature Reserve. We smiled sweetly as we passed through the first security check, we’d come this way two years ago but then we’d had a car with NI plates. As then we were again a little perturbed with being surrounded with soldiers with rather serious looking weapons.

At the second check we were allowed through and headed across the training grounds sandwiched between two vehicles. When we reached the nature reserve we had to abandon the trusty Micra and decamp into a 4x4 with our chaps from the NIEA to head across the reserve. The ponies were in fine fettle and we were happy to pass the two forward to be registered into the stud book. The NIEA took the option not to brand.

A cup of coffee was the next option and we said our goodbyes and see you again soon and headed right out to the end of Magilligan’s Point to the pub and to look across the rather rainy and misty vista towards County Donegal.

Off again and full pelt towards Belfast. Full pelt for a Micra is possibly as fast as a pregnant hippo and I’m sure the seat wasn’t truly fastened especially when cornering as it would squeak and move quite alarmingly.

We then navigated our way successfully down to the Mourne Mountains which could have been quite spectacular if we’d been able to see them. The wind was quite vicious, the storm clouds gathered although the rain held off while we were there. Next stop was at Sheila’s farm, all has seen better days but no-one could love their animals more. The one yearling and three foals passed muster but the three year old colt is destined to be castrated as he wasn’t good enough to be registered as a stallion. Not a problem as Sheila said, “I didn’t really think he was good enough but I thought I might test you.”!!

Back up to Belfast and a welcome shower to rid ourselves of the overwhelming stench of manure which had manifested itself into our clothes, hands and hair from being in Sheila’s stinking pig pens and handling her ponies.

We had a good meal, Irish portions are vast, but had an uncomfortable night as all we had was air conditioning and for country folk this is bad news. It was a relief to get out into fresh air in the morning, albeit for a short time as then our flight was delayed.

So, now I’m home, ready for another adventure!

And, no I did not do this to the poor little car!

I know a few fellow bloggers have tried to list their all time favourites so I thought I would start listing ones that really wind me up or make me cringe every time I hear them. I certainly wouldn't want to take these to my desert island. There's plenty more!

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

Had a good day out at the Horse of the Year show last week at the NEC. I met my friend at some ungodly hour, at least I was early enough to find a space at the layby to leave my car at the now notorious junction 14 of the M5.

Coming back we had a narrow escape, suddenly brake lights snapped on. A lorry a couple of cars in front of us veered from the inside lane into the middle one where we were. I didn’t see how it happened it but a car in the outer lane had done a complete 180 degree turn with damage to its bonnet, another in the middle lane seemed to be crushed.

We came to a momentary stop and were both amazed to see getting out of an ordinary car right in front of us (sorry don’t do car makes or models) two police women. They were all kitted out with body protectors and all the the rest of the gear so can only assume they were off duty and on their way home. My friend managed to quickly get into the inside lane which was now clear.

Looking back, I saw that there were no casualties and the only damage seemed to be crunched cars so we were both glad that there were responsible people already at the scene. We thought that perhaps we should have stayed but as neither of us had seen all the events that had happened we felt we were free to carry on.