Travels with a toddler: The Cotswold Motoring Museum

The Cotswolds in early autumn was resplendent. Bright, warm colours, quaint village scenes, golden willow boughs bending to brush the water of rushing streams and all the other bucolic autumnal things you can imagine. Jem and I arrived in the village of Bourton-on-the-Water imagining that it would be a little known, pretty little village - we were wrong! This pretty little village was certainly not unknown to the coachloads of visitors from home and abroad. I had already found that in this part of the world everyone seems to drive 10mph slower than anywhere else, but now, I was actually mainly moving at 0mph to avoid maiming the innocent tourists who had to stand in the very middle of the narrow village road in order to get the perfect selfie. (To be quite fair we did the exact same thing a couple of hours later and I would heartily recommend it.) The thing about being a tourist in autumn is that sometimes you find yourself to be the only visitor to a place, and, while that sounds ideal, I actually find it pretty awkward. Anyway, I took the crowds of visitors as nothing but a good sign.

We had come to meet up with my old friend Emma and to visit the Cotswold Motoring Museum. Emma and I both felt a little silly that we - the girls - would be visiting a car museum without our partners, but there was something about Brum on the publicity material so we couldn't miss it.

Naturally, though being in a pretty little village with probably the highest concentration of tearooms per square mile I've ever seen, we decided that we simply must go for tea before and after. People, you haven't lived until you've sipped tea and eaten a smoked salmon sandwich while surrounded by pretty mismatched vintage crockery and furniture. Even Jem loved it - and he's not one for sitting around while I sip tea.

The motoring museum was amazing. This has to be one of the most interesting, well put together and one of the most fun museums I have ever been to. It is crammed full of exhibits documenting not only the motor cars but also the wider culture and social history of the 20th century. Some of the assets have been meticulously restored so as to be spotless. Others are displayed approximately 'as found' which allows the visitor to see something of the backstory. Many of the exhibits are shown with stories about who used them - some written by the owners themselves. Besides cars there were motorbikes, motoring accessories, bicycles, signage, the list could go on. We even saw actual Brum - Emma was somewhat starstruck. I cannot do justice in writing to how much of a treasure trove this is. The best part for Jem was that not only does the museum include a toy collection, but it has an adorable little play area, including a play-garage and a chance to drive Brum!

Having exhausted ourselves in the museum we retreated to another tearoom, where over tea and cake I managed to become Emma's first customer. Emma is an artist and has recently started offering drawings on commission. She made me two pieces, one of Jem and I together, that she drew from a photo on my phone, and another of Jem taken from life. I've had them framed now, and I think they're absolutely incredible. This is her professional facebook page - please check it out and give her a 'like'.

So in conclusion, I would like to move to Bourton-on-the-Water.

Apologies that you can see me in the reflection - but doesn't he look cute?!

Participating

Church can be difficult at the moment. With a one-year-old who likes to squirm, screech, thunder around, climb the pews and harass other children, sometimes there aren't enough books or raisins in the world (let alone my bag) to keep him calm enough for me to focus. We have to compromise a little. Sometimes I can't listen fully to the readings or the sermon because I have to take him out and calm him down. Sometimes I can't kneel throughout the Eucharistic prayer as I'd like because he needs my attention. Sometimes I can't concentrate and pray because I have to help him read his book.

Even without a toddler to deal with, it can be hard to participate fully. Everyone has things on their mind, worries and distractions that can take the mind off in another direction. Sometimes we can't share in the sacrament for the knowledge that there is sin in our lives. Even though I know that I have no choice but to continue looking after my son, even when I am at Mass, it can make me feel inadequate.

But there is one moment that I know I can participate in fully, even from the back of church chasing Jem around, even when I should have gone to confession, even when I've lost concentration during the prayers, even when I've already forgotten what the sermon was about.

Kneeling, the congregation repeats the words said by a centurion beseeching Christ to heal his servant:

"Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof," and we continue "but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed."

Thus, we make a final act of contrition before receiving Christ in the bread and wine, we acknowledge not only our unworthiness, but Christ's love and mercy. They are words for the sinner. 

We do not go to Mass because we deserve the sacraments. We do not approach Jesus perfect. We turn to him, and beg him to approach us. Sinners.

I once wrote a couple of lines about this: 

How can I stand here before you? - a sinner

Yet it is us whom you call - sinners all

Rosy and the Lily

Rosy held her ice-cream in one hand and reached out with the other to touch the wall. The stone her hand found was different from the others, smooth and white. Tiny grey cracks navigated across the surface. The stone curved away gently as she ran her fingers over it; it was somehow soft. It made her think of a person. A picture fused together in her mind: a young man with reddish hair and shining blue eyes. He stopped, out of breath and looked at her. 

William was panting. He could feel the evening shadows creeping up his back as he crossed the cobbled town square. He could sense in the tingling cold that the church bell was about to chime. A nervous feeling welled up in his somach, but he pushed it sown again. Even if he was late, she was worth it. He ran towards the shrinking blue sky.

Glancing up the hill, he could see, just rising through the treetops, the smoking chimneys of home. Mother and Father must be dressing for dinner, if he could sneak in through the servants' hall they might never know - Annie could be trusted to keep him right, she was her best friend. 

Even while he was running he found a moment to close his eyes and he thought of her face - his Lily-girl. He could feel so intensely the sway of her hair against his skin. The warmth that radiated from her whan she smiled and the peace of knowing that she was waiting for him, that she had promised to wait. If he hadn't been running, he would have leapt for joy. 

The river, as he came close to it, whispered in tones as low and soft as Lily's. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath and watch the orange sparkle of the setting sun on the water. His hands pushed off from the warm stone walls as he took off again, smiling to himself. "What's the harm in telling them tonight," he thought "they'll come around. They'll have to."

His feet, in thin leather boots thumped painfully on the cobbles. A memory flashed through his mind. A cart and two horses, crashing, breaking, falling. Just as it formed into a thought, he felt his ankle give way beneath him. He stumbled on the uneven surface and grappled with the turbulent ground as he tumbled over and over and through the break in the wall where the horses had fallen to their deaths. He saw the shallow rapids rushing towards him.

A clear film of water flowed over William's face. There was barely any blood, just a single trickle dissipated into the brook. When the grocer found him he said that he looked as peaceful as an alabaster tomb. 

Rosy felt an icy trickle on her hand. She looked down. The ice-cream was melting away. She hurried it to her lips but before she could bring it close enough the pink scoop slid off the cone and landed with a splat. For a moment she watched as pink streams formed and meandered in the gullies between the cobbles. Then all of a sudden she began to wail. "Daddy! It fell!" Her eyes filled with tears.

She felt his strong arm around her. He lifted her up until she could see over the wall to the river below.

"Poor Rosy-girl. You have to eat it quickly, see?" He said holding up a half finished cone of mint-choc-chip . But the girl's attention was elsewhere. On the wall at the side of the bridge lay a perfect white bloom. A single lily.



A friend gave me a challenge to write a short story containing the following objects: a lily, a skull and an ice-cream cone. It was difficult to find a way to put all of those things together while keeping to my own style, but eventually, it sparked an idea which in the end I really loved. The process was lots of fun, and hopefully you've enjoyed the end result. I'd love to try another challenge, similar to this or different, let me know in the comments if you have any suggestions. If you liked this story, you might like my book - available on amazon kindle (you only need a browser or smartphone to read it) anyway the ad is on the right.

Travels with a Toddler: Knole Park

A young stag nibbles at a branch - with such elegance

A couple of weeks ago, along with a group of family members including three toddlers (!) Andy, Jem and I visited the National Trust Property at Knole Park in Sevenoakes. The house was originally an Archbishop's palace and is home to some stunning artefacts including some incredibly ornate textiles, an impressive collection of historical portraits, unique pieces of furniture, porcelain... I could go on - it's breathtaking. The house, though is dwarfed by its surroundings, a medieval deer park that stretches on for miles - or at least much further than we could ever have walked that day!

The grounds are really the star attraction, deer that are so tame that they pose for photographs, picturesque views that make you forget that you're right by the center of town. We loved exploring outside, I had a ball taking photographs of the deer - I'm not sure everyone was so pleased to wait around for me.

Going there with little children was not a problem so long as we were willing to make some small sacrifices. Inside the house we were asked to swap our baby carrier - we had a frame carrier (like a large backpack) for a soft carrier, they had plenty to lend out but if I had realised in advance I probably would have been more comfortable using my own. We chose a beautiful autumn day to make our visit, so the weather was not a consideration and there are some easy paths outside for buggies - naturally none of our little ones wanted to spend much time in the buggy. Jem would tell you that the paths were crawlable but slow going!

I hope you enjoy these few pictures. Let me know what you think - feel free to leave a comment.

This stately stag was caught napping, but
obliged me by surveying his kingdom

Posing for his close up

Chimneyscape

Probably my favourite image from the day, a young stag in the bracken.

Beginning to Weave...

I've found a new obsession! Weaving fascinates me, it's not only design and use of colour, there's a geometry and underlying - almost subconscious - mathematics to it that is causing an addiction. I am enjoying working different patterns and shapes to find out what I can create.

I found a great tutorial that was really helpful in going through the basic techniques (and essentially - the vocabulary) and asked my father-in-law to help me make a loom based on the instructions there (basically some nails in a board). His idea though, was to make a loom bigger and better than I could have asked for, so I now have this beautiful oak peg loom with copper pins, on which I have so far completed about three decorative pieces and have already started the next.

It was only after I had commissioned my loom and started my experimentation that my own Dad said "Oh you're interested in weaving, would you like a loom?" It turns out he has been holding onto the loom that my Gran used when she learnt to weave. It's bigger and more complex than my own, so I'll have to spend some time researching how to use it.

I'll be taking my first weaving class this week, I can't wait to find out more about this timeless craft.

Adventures in weaving - from prep through working on the loom to finished article