Hedgehogs and badgers

Jun24

Chap and I had a broken night’s sleep last night. At about 3.30 am we were woken by the most horrific piercing screams, a sort of cross between an agitated baby’s cry and that of a cat shrieking.

I had a good idea what it was—years ago I had rescued a hedgehog that had been attacked in a next door garden. At the time we didn’t know what had attacked it, but the vet said it was most likely a badger. That surprised us, as we’d never seen badgers—or traces of badgers, such as spoor, footprints in mud, or setts—close to the village.

Hedgehog (Erinaceus europaeus). Photo by Marek Szczepanek.

So I chucked on my dressing gown and headed out into the lane. Chap arrived shortly afterwards (he’d got dressed) and there just by our cottage was a large hedgehog curled into a tight ball, screaming, panting and grunting. It sounded like it was in considerable distress. The noise was terrific and we thought we’d move it off the lane up to the allotments for safety’s sake, and also to get it away from the cottages and their sleeping inhabitants.

Chap gingerly picked it up using gardening gloves and a fleece. As we walked up the lane with it, we saw the back end of a badger sticking out from under a neighbour’s beech hedge, and heard more shrieking. As we approached the badger scarpered at a lick, up the path towards the allotments, leaving its second victim under the hedge. So now we had two potentially-injured hedgehogs, and the allotments clearly weren’t the place to leave them now Mr Brock had headed that way.

Badger (meles meles). Photo by Chris P.

So we put the one from the lane in our neighbour’s garden, not too far from the one under the hedge, which had stopped shrieking and was still in its tight ball. We reckoned if they were still there in the morning we’d take them to the vet or contact the RSPCA or local wildlife rescue. Ballou and Hecate had come out with us to see what all the fuss was about, and we all headed back inside. I washed my feet as I had rushed out barefoot, and then back to bed. But not for long.

About 15 minutes later the shrieking started again. Repeat procedure, only this time I went out armed with a washing up bowl as well as torch, gloves and the fleece. The hedgehog was in the lane again—we couldn’t tell which one it was—and heading towards the High Street. So we scooped it into the bowl and let it out in our garden, which is jungly and full of slugs and snails for it to eat, and away from traffic (and hopefully badgers). It trotted away into the flowerbed and didn’t seem to be injured so now we are wondering whether the shrieking the second time around was to do with the badger, or perhaps a mating cry?

By now it was getting light. We went back up the lane to check on the other hedgehog, but both were gone from our neighbour’s garden. Meanwhile the cats were barrelling up and down the lane at a great lick. They clearly thought all these crepuscular shenanigans were splendid fun.

Badger tracks in snow. Photo by James Lindsey.

We have only had occasional hints that badgers live around here: the attacked hedgehog in the next door garden; then years later Chap saw one trotting up the same garden one evening; and some years after that another neighbour called me round to look at some bloody paw prints on the lower part of her house wall. I have a book on tracks and trails and spoor and was able to identify the paw prints as those of a badger. Maybe he had cut his paw while trying to get at a hedgehog? So in the 22 years we have lived here, last night was only the third positive badger sighting. We don’t know of any setts close by, so wonder where it came from.

We also wonder whether the recent prolonged dry spell has meant badgers are turning to other food sources as their usual diet of worms isn’t available, as the worms have all gone deep into the soil.

RSPCA website link.

Wiltshire Wildlife Hospital website link.

Hedgehog (and other wild animals) rescue charity website link: St Tiggywinkles.

Mary Thew, Arts and Crafts jeweller

Jun22

Mary Russell Thew (1876—1953, née Mary Russell Frew) was a Scottish Arts and Crafts jeweller, perhaps best known for her free-flowing use of silver wire, with trails and beads, as well as using materials such as abalone and cabochon semi-precious gemstones. Her work is in the collections of the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

Mary Thew. Partly gilded silver brooch with abalone, jade, turquoise and citrine. In the collections of the V&A.

Mary was born in Hillhead in Glasgow in 1876. She studied for a short time at the Glasgow School of Art in the mid 1890s, becoming friends there with Jessie Marion King and Jessie’s husband E.A. Taylor, before marrying her husband, James Mursell Thew, in 1903. James was an engineer, and enjoyed silversmithing as a hobby and making pieces for Mary; she soon began making designs herself. James died after only a few years of marriage, and with a young son to support, Mary decided to turn her hobby into her career. She took a short course of four lessons in jewellery making from famed Arts and Crafts jeweller Rhoda Wager, who had also studied at the Glasgow School. This must have been some time before 1913, as after that date Wager emigrated, first to Fiji and then to Australia, where she was to live for the rest of her life. Mary became a member of the ‘Greengate Close Coterie’, a group of friends and artisans who came to live for extended periods in the village of Kirkcudbright, where King and Taylor had settled in 1915. From 1911 Mary was a member of the Glasgow Society of Lady Artists, and she won the Society’s Lauder Award for a case of jewellery in 1925. She also exhibited at the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool. An undated jewellery box of Mary’s is marked ‘Mary R. Thew, 704 Anniesland Road, Glasgow W.4.’ She also lived in Helensburgh at some point in her life.

Mary Thew. Silver brooch with a galleon design, set with freshwater pearls, amethysts and citrines. Sold by Tadema Gallery. Source: Zorn Karlin 1993, 143.

Mary Thew. Silver and abalone galleon brooch. Sold by Dukes Auctioneers.

Mary Thew. Silver and abalone galleon brooch. Sold by Van Den Bosch.

Mary took much inspiration from the jewellery of foreign countries whenever she travelled. She also designed Celtic-inspired pieces, as well as making jewellery with the popular Arts and Crafts galleon motif. Her freeform wirework pieces are perhaps her most iconic, though: trails and beads of wire wrapped to form a circular frame, on which are mounted cabochon semi-precious stones or abalone plaques or freshwater pearls.

Mary Thew. Silver and carnelian wirework brooch. Sold by Sworders Auctioneers.

Mary Thew. Silver, chalcedony and freshwater pearl wirework brooch. Sold by Tadema Gallery.

Mary Thew. Silver, chalcedony and moonstone wirework brooch. Sold by Bonhams.

Mary Thew. Brooch recently sold on eBay.

Mary Thew. Silver and amethyst wirework brooch recently sold on eBay.

Mary Thew. Silver and lapis lazuli wirework brooch. Sold by Van Den Bosch.

Attributed by the sellers to Sibyl Dunlop, but I am pretty sure this is by Mary Thew. Moonstone and Biwa pearls wirework brooch, with what looks like gilded silver (hard to tell as the photo isn’t the best). Sold by Dreweatts & Bloomsbury.

In 1939 Mary was living in Milngavie, a small town some 10 km (6 miles) north-west of Glasgow. Here Nan Muirhead Moffat, a newspaper reporter, described her workshop:

The desk is surmounted by shelves from which hang the numerous tools required for this complicated craft. The jeweller sits on a high Windsor chair … Within easy reach are her bottle of sperm oil and sulphuric acid, borax (used as a flux), a polishing lathe, a rolling machine, a vice, and a sandbag for hammering repousse. In the sketch, the artists is shown revolving a ring, on a wire ‘wig’, in a Bunsen-burner flame, while she uses foot bellows. While working, she always wears a leather apron and another is fixed under the desk to catch any jewels or pieces of metal which might be dropped.

Mary Thew at work in her studio in her garden.

The reporter then went to look at Mary’s jewellery:

Brooches, pendants, rings, ear-rings, chains, bracelets, buckles and links shimmered and glowed in the afternoon sunshine. I also saw beautiful crosses, showing Celtic influence, with characteristic inter-lacings and whorls, and I admired silver butter-forks, spoons and key-rings.

Mary Thew. Matirx turquoise and silver Celtic cross pendant, signed on the back with Mary's 'T' mark. Her signed pieces are very rare. For sale on Etsy: click on photo for details.

Mary Thew. Matrix turquoise and silver Celtic cross pendant, signed on the back with Mary’s punched ‘T’ mark. Her signed pieces are very rare. For sale on Etsy: click on photo for details.

Mary Thew opal and pearl-decorated Celtic cross. No mention in the description if it was signed on the back. Sold in 2006 by Lyon and Turnbull.

Mrs Thew told me that once she had to make silver hinges for an old book, belonging to Professor Latts, the cracked covers of which were made from the wood of an old battleship. Recently she had been making a great many hand-wrought silver tops for the fashionable embroidered handbags. She had also made copies, to order, of antique jewellery.

The artist has an instinct for creating a pleasing balance between space and decoration in her work, and she has a fine colour sense. She neither overloads with ornamentation nor allows her devotion to detail to detract from the general effect of her design.

Entrancing treasures

In the drawers a heterogeneous collection of gems from all over the world was mixed in an entrancing disorder—American jade from Salt Lake City, Scottish pearls, Connemara marble, New Zealand shells, Mexican fire opals, corals, malachite, crystals, moss-agates, green pebbles, and magic moonstones.

Mary Thew. Silver, abalone and freshwater pearl brooch. Sold by Tadema Gallery. Source: Zorn Karlin 1993, 143.

Mary Thew. Silver and abalone brooch, for sale at Tadema Gallery.

Mary Thew. Silver and abalone brooch. Sold at Bonhams.

Mary Thew. Silver and abalone brooch. Sold by Bonhams.

Mary Thew. Silver and Abalone brooch. Sold by Auction Atrium.

Mary Thew didn’t often sign her work, but when she did it was usually in the form of a ‘T’ punched on to the back of the piece.

Celtic cross pendant signed by Mary Thew: a ‘T’ made of punched dots, punched through from the other side before the matrix turquoise stone was set. Signed pieces are very rare. For sale on Etsy: click on photo for details.

Her work is now very sought-after, and is sold by specialist jewellery galleries in London such as Tadema Gallery and Van Den Bosch.

I was very lucky to find an unattributed Mary Thew brooch, which I sold in my Etsy shop. It wasn’t signed but had the characteristics of her work, including freeform wirework, trails and beads, as well as an abalone plaque. The Director of Decorative Arts at Lyon and Turnbull in Edinburgh corroborated my identification. The day I found that brooch was a very special one indeed, and for a short while I was the proud possessor of a Mary Thew masterpiece! I’m pleased to report that it has since returned to Scotland, its ancestral home.

The Mary Thew brooch I sold in my Etsy shop.

Another view of my Mary Thew brooch.

Mary Thew (attrib.) silver and abalone brooch, sold on eBay in November 2015 and a companion piece to my brooch.

Mary Thew silver and abalone brooch, sold on eBay in November 2015 and a companion piece to my brooch.

Another view, showing the trails and beads and flowers.

Another view, showing the silver trails and beads and flowers.

Given the wide range of jewellery types that Mary Thew made, as mentioned in the 1939 article, it would be wonderful to see more examples of her non-brooch jewellery. Tadema Gallery has sold a bracelet of hers, but apart from that, and the two Celtic cross pendants above, the only pieces of which I have seen records have all been brooches. (The pendant/necklace below was made recently, using a Mary Thew brooch.)

Mary Thew. Silver, jade, goshenite and peal pendant and necklace. Sold by tadema Gallery.

Mary Thew. Silver, jade, goshenite and pearl pendant and necklace, made using the original brooch below and sold by Tadema Gallery.

Mary Thew. Brooch from which the above pendant/necklace was made. Tadema Gallery ref 7172.

Mary Thew. Silver and opal doublet bracelet. Sold by Tadema Gallery. (Looks like lapis lazuli, but I assume that’s the colour reproduction).

An art glass faux turquoise and silver pendant, attributed to Mary Thew. For sale in my Etsy shop, Inglenookery: click on photo for details.

Mary was also a talented artist and musician. She died in 1953 in North Wales.

Sources: Jewelry and Metalwork in the Arts and Crafts Tradition by Elyse Zorn Karlin, 1993, 142-3; ‘Round the Studios: 7. Mrs Mary Thew – Jeweller’ by Nan Muirhead Moffat, The Glasgow Herald, 18 May 1939, 8; Mary Thew entry at the In the Artists’ Footsteps website; Mary Thew entry in Artists in Britain Since 1945—Chapter T by the Goldmark Gallery.

Further reading: Glasgow Style by Gerald and Celia Larner, Paul Harris Publishing, Edinburgh, 1979; Glasgow Girls: Women in Art and Design 1880—1920 edited by Jude Burkhauser, Canongate, Edinburgh, 1990; Tales of the Kirkcudbright Artists by Haig Gordon, Galloway Publishing, Kirkcudbright, 2006; Glasgow Girls: Artists and Designers 1890—1930 by Liz Arthur, Kirkcudbright, 2010.

Making space for nature: Orchids in the allotments

Jun21

The top part of our village allotments has been left as a small nature conservation area. About eight years ago I seeded it with a calcareous soil wildflower mix from Emorsgate Seeds, on behalf of our local conservation group. The area had been overgrown with rank grasses, which grew so strongly that other wildflowers were not able to get a proper foothold. In the seed mix was yellow rattle, a plant that parasitises the roots of neighbouring plants and so weakens them, and which is used as a natural method of controlling the rank grasses. It has been interesting watching the development of the meadow area. In the spring we get a fantastic show of cowslips, followed by black medic and yellow rattle and white and red clover and ox-eye daisies and all sorts of pretty flowers.

The conservation area of the allotments – a beautiful wildflower meadow, photographed this morning. If you click on the photo you can just make out a small clump of pyramidal orchids in the centre of the grassy area. The white drift behind them is a patch of ox-eye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare).

Even before we sowed the seeds there were wild orchids growing on the allotments and in the conservation area: mainly pyramidal orchids, with a few bee orchids and a couple of common spotted ones. The orchids have ‘on’ years when they flower well, and ‘off’ years when they sulk and don’t bother to flower. This year is a ‘so-so’ year for the pyramidals, but there is no sign of the bee or the common spotted ones.

Bee orchid (Ophrys apifera) on the allotments, 16 June 2008.

The well-named Pyramidal orchid on the allotments, 16 June 2008.

The well-named Pyramidal orchid (Anacamptis pyramidalis) on the allotments, 16 June 2008. Black medic (Medicago lupulina) lurking in the background.

Common spotted orchid in our garden, 14 June 2006. The spots on the leaves, from which it gets its name, are visible.

Common spotted orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsii) in our garden, 14 June 2006. The spots on the leaves, from which it gets its name, are visible.

We went for a walk there this morning and Ballou came with us. She adores Chap and howled pathetically when he wandered out of sight. While we were up there we met Charlie, our neighbour, with one of his cats.

Ballou on the lookout in the conservation area.

Despite its name, the common spotted orchid isn’t at all common in our conservation area. We have a lone specimen growing in our garden, bought from a favourite local nursery, Nadder Valley Nurseries (they don’t seem to have a website so I can’t link), many years ago.

Sturminster Newton Mill

Jun20

Last Sunday Chap and I headed south into Dorset. We wanted to visit the Fippenny Fair at Okeford Fitzpaine, but as that didn’t start until 2 we decided to take an amble en route. We stopped at Sturminster Newton Mill on the River Stour, with a view to doing a riverside walk, but to our delight found that the Mill was open, and not only that, it was one of its milling days. So in we went, paying our very reasonable entrance fee of £2.50 each.

Sturminster Newton Mill. Photo by Mike Searle.

The history of the Mill can be traced back for nearly 1,000 years, as it is almost certainly one of the four mentioned at Sturminster Newton in the Domesday Book of 1086. There may well have been a Saxon or even a Romano-British mill on the site before this. For most of its life the Mill was powered by two undershot water wheels working side by side; in 1904 these were replaced by a single water turbine, mounted horizontally under the water, which drove three pairs of stones. The Mill produced both flour and animal feed. It is owned by the Pitt-Rivers Estate, and was in constant use until 1970, when the last miller left and the Mill was boarded up and left abandoned for ten years. In the 1980s a Mill Trust was formed and several tenant millers worked there over the next decade. In 1994 it was decided to run the Mill as a visitor attraction, managed by the Sturminster Newton Museum and Mill Society, a volunteer-run organisation.

Sturminster Newton Mill on the River Stour. South wing (flour mill) to the left and north wing (originally a separate fulling mill) to the right.

We were taken on a guided tour of the entire building, and all the while the turbine was powering various machines and of course the millstones. The whole building gently shook, and the air thrummed to the regular pulse of the machinery. Canvas drive belts span, flour was pouring down shutes made of old-fashioned ticking and hessian, and chaff floated lightly about in the air, like drifting snowflakes. The homely smell of freshly-ground corn (grain such as wheat, rye, and barley to transatlantic readers) was all-pervasive. It is a magical place, and a real time warp—just as if the last hundred years had never happened. On the ground floor is the meal floor; above that is the stone floor where the grinding was done, and on the top floor is the bin loft where the grain was stored prior to grinding.

The mill is an L-shaped building. The south wing is the flour mill, and the present building was rebuilt c. 1650, presumably on the site of/incorporating parts of an earlier building. We were told that one of the trusses in the roof has recently and tentatively been dated by architectural historians to c. 1350! The north wing was ‘originally a completely separate fulling mill, built in 1611, then demolished in the late 18th century and rebuilt in brick on its original stone base to join with and extend the grain mill’, so the Mill’s website explains.

Machinery on the meal floor of the Mill: ground corn in the form of flour arriving from the floor above.

Machinery on the stone floor of the Mill. The pair of millstones are protected under the wooden vat or tun on the left.

Winnower in action on the stone floor.

Bag of grain arrived via the hoist through a well-worn trapdoor. Miller visible on the floor below.

Bag of grain (on its way to the bin loft) arrived on the stone floor via the hoist through a well-worn trapdoor. Miller visible on the meal floor below.

Millstone with tools to dress it when it had worn down too much.

Bins for grain in the bin loft at the top of the Mill. The roof truss that possibly dates from c. 1350 is visible up against the gable wall.

Miller's workshop in the other wing of the Mill.

Miller’s workshop in the other (north) wing of the Mill.

We were able to buy some of the flour that had been ground that day and I’m really looking forward to baking with it. (Update: you can see how I got on with a recipe for wholemeal bread made with this flour here).

Flour from the Mill.

The Mill is open until 29 September on Mondays, Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays from 11 am—5 pm. Admission for adults is £2.50 and for children is £1.00.

According to the leaflet we picked up, the special milling weekends this year are on

12 and 13 July, 11 am—5 pm

9 and 10 August, 11 am—5 pm

13 and 14 September, 11 am—5 pm

and the same entrance fees are charged. It’s well worth a visit. The stairs are very steep, so only the ground floor is suitable for those with limited mobility. There is a picnic area at the back of the Mill where you can sit and watch the river.

A big ‘thank-you’ to the great volunteers who work there and who made our visit such a joy. It really is a very special place indeed.

I have looked to see if the Mill has been used as a location for films or television programmes, but can’t find anything. It certainly would make an exceptional location for a period production as it is so untouched by the 21st century (and barely by the 20th!).

Sturminster Newton Museum and Mill Society website link. Also used as a source: Sturminster Newton Mill, by Peter Loosmore and Roy Clarke, 2010 (2nd edition), published by Sturminster Newton Museum and Mill Society.

Eggy brekky

Jun19

Our lovely friend Linda keeps chickens, and the other day she kindly gave us some eggs. They are so pretty! I don’t think the photos do them justice – the colours are much more lively than in the photos, and the differences between them greater. (I really do need to get a decent camera, I think).

Delicious fresh eggs from happy chickens.

I asked Linda about the breeds, and she tells me, left to right, they are from:

The blue ones = Cotswold Legbar (a breed from the Cotwolds in England)

The little cream ones = Australorp (a breed from Australia)

The big white pointy ones = Ancona (a breed from Italy).

She also has Fayoumi chucks as well, but no eggs from them on this occasion. Fayoumis are an Egyptian breed.

So pretty.

Linda’s League of Nations chickens have a great life: they spend a lot of time wandering round her garden (and destroying her plants), and the eggs they produce are absolutely delicious and the best we have ever eaten.

Breakfast (one of the Cotswold Legbar eggs, poached). Yum!

I used Marcus Wareing‘s foolproof method for poaching, as detailed here.

An elephant lullaby

Jun16

A lovely video of the founder of the Save Elephant Foundation in Thailand, Sangduen “Lek” Chailert, lullabying an elephant to sleep.

I now know that elephants snore. Every day is a learning day!

The Foundation undertakes stirling work rescuing and rehabilitating maltreated and aged members of Thailand’s captive elephant population, as well as other projects. Lek is an inspirational woman.

Save Elephant Foundation website

Spooning

Jun15

I have just acquired four vintage Danish 830 silver spoons dating from the 1930s and 1940s for my Etsy shop. They all have maker’s marks, and I have identified three of the makers: Carl M Cohr, Christian Knudsen Hansen and W & S Sørensen, but the fourth, ‘H.V.J’, has so far eluded my attempts at identification.

Carl M Cohr 830 Danish silver spoon, 1935.

Chrstian Knudsen Hansen 830 silver spoon, 1939.

Christian Knudsen Hansen 830 Danish silver spoon, 1939.

W & S Sørensen 830 Danish silver spoon, 1940s. (NOW SOLD).

‘H.V.J’ 830 Danish silver spoon, 1940s.

The last spoon in particular made me think of the old joke:

Two posh ladies (think Dowager Duchess) are talking, back in the 1920s.

Posh lady 1: ‘I saw a shocking thing today. A young couple were spooning, in public. The disgrace of it. One didn’t know where to look.’

Posh lady 2: (peers over top of lorgnette) ‘Standards are dropping, my dear. But one should at least be grateful they weren’t forking.’

(Note for younger readers, for whom ‘spooning’ means ‘cuddling up in bed, with your tummy against your partner’s back’: in the early part of the last century, ‘spooning’ meant a very different thing. Those were far more innocent and sexually repressed days. ‘Spooning’ meant the same as ‘canoodling’ – making gooey eyes at each other, holding hands, and perhaps – only perhaps – a kiss on the cheek. A young couple would never be able to spoon as we know it, unless they were married. So that makes the payoff line of the joke even more shocking and risqué for its time.)

UPDATE November 2015: Slightly belated, but I thought I’d add that I now have a lot more Danish silver spoons in my Etsy shop, and more to come! I’m a bit obsessed at the moment …

The Crazy Dorset World of Arthur Brown

Jun14

Do you ever have those moments when you start poking about on the internet to find out one thing, and end up learning something completely different, and new, and unexpected? Chap and I had one of those moments the other day. It all started with a car advert on the telly (Toyota Auris Hybrid, fact fans). The music playing was ‘A Horse With No Name‘, written by Dewey Bunnell of the band America, and released in the UK and parts of Europe in late 1971, and in January 1972 in the US. I loved that song so much when it was released, and still do. I wanted to know more about it, and a quick google told me that although the band members were American, the song was written and demoed while they were staying at Arthur Brown‘s recording studio at Puddletown in Dorset.

What? What? Puddletown? Puddletown? Double take, re-read to check, then scratch head in incredulity at the incongruity: a song that is about as all-American as can be, and conjuring up a harsh, arid, desert world, was written in bucolic, lush, green and very English Dorset. Puddletown is a village 8 km to the east of Dorchester. It’s grown a lot with housing developments in recent years, but in the early 1970s was a small, out-of-the-way place.

At this point Chap (who lived in Dorchester for much of his youth) got very excited. He’d heard an urban legend that Arthur Brown (he of ‘Fire‘ and flaming headgear fame) had lived there, but had never had confirmation. More internet snooping was in order.

Details came. Arthur Brown and his Crazy World lived in a farmhouse in or near Puddletown, and had a recording studio there called Jabberwocky Studios. Various musicians pitched up and stayed, and as people came and went bands were formed and evolved into others, including Puddletown Express, Brown’s backing band. By 1970 Brown had left, and Puddletown Express developed into another short-lived band called Rustic Hinge and the Provincial Swimmers (May—August 1970). John Peel visited Jabberwocky Studios, to talk to Rustic Hinge about signing them to his record label. In August 1970 a BBC camera crew arrived, to film the farmhouse for a documentary on Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy—apparently the farmhouse was Hardy’s model for one in which Tess stayed. The programme was produced by documentary maker Michael Croucher. He was amused by the musical anarchy going on around him, and filmed a performance of ‘Lychee’ by Rustic Hinge for the programme.

But no name given for the farmhouse. Where was it? we wondered. Cue more googling. And then we hit paydirt: a thread on a board about Rustic Hinge. With the very footage of ‘Lychee’ shot by the BBC, with the house in the background.

And someone in the thread identified the farmhouse as Ilsington Farmhouse, near Tincleton. Here was another ‘what?!’ moment—we know Ilsington Farm as both Chap and I worked quite a few years ago in one of the offices in the converted farm outbuildings there: Terrain Archaeology’s headquarters. Small world!

Ilsington Farmhouse.

Tincleton is a small village about 2.5 km south of Puddletown, and Ilsington Farmhouse is a Grade II listed building dating from the 17th century. Yet more internet truffling and we learned that you too can rent the seven-bedroom farmhouse from a mere £2,000—£2,950 a week, and have a go at recreating those crazy days of 40 years ago. We also learned that Ilsington Farm has had a swallow hole incident (also known as a sink hole) a few years back. I’m fascinated by sink holes, so all this was too much excitement for one evening!

Caveat: a lot of the details here about Arthur Brown and his fellow musicians might well be wrong, as the various sites I’ve looked at seem to have accounts with conflicting details, chronology, etc. Considering the amount of drugs that were no doubt consumed back in the late 60s and early 70s there, it’s not surprising—I wonder that anyone could remember anything at all from back then in much detail!

September 2015 update: Nick Churchill has commented with a link to an article he wrote for Dorset Life in June this year, with masses of detail about the house and the recording studio – apparently Led Zeppelin recorded there too! Do give it a look – it’s a great read with fascinating information.

Favourite Etsy shops: The Litus Gallery

Jun12

There are some amazing artists and craftspeople on Etsy, and I wanted to write about some of my favourites. Top of the pile is The Litus Gallery.

I was so delighted when I found this shop: DD McInnes is an artist living near Canterbury in Kent, a self-professed fantabulist who paints the most whimsical, fantastical oil paintings, some of which are inspired by 17th, 18th and early 19th century paintings, and which have animals, including birds, invertebrates and insects taking the place of the human sitters. DD describes the paintings as ‘A unique collection of dream-like, darkly humorous paintings and prints of mythical beasts and metaphysical poets for the discerning Virtual Grand Tourist.’

‘The Tender Foils’ by DD McInnes.

‘Portrait of a Young Man’, by DD McInnes.

‘The Spectral Lovers’ by DD McInnes.

The paintings have such terrific titles as ‘The Contessa di Faraglione Arrives for the Evening Ball‘, and ‘The Morning Exercise, Newthorpe Park, May, 1768‘, and ‘La Passeggiata of the Lady Dowager, Siena, 1796‘, and ‘Mister Renard’s Dappled Gray, “Lightning Bolt”, with the Jockey Lamb, Up‘, and ‘Henry Lord Byfield, 1st Viscount of Framlington, Rides Out on His First Grand Tour, 1795‘, and ‘The Game of Quoits at Dunmow Lacey, Afternoon, 1814‘, and ‘A Table at Mrs. Goatsby’s Coffee-House, Berwick St. London, 1767‘. I’m not sure whether all of these are based on original paintings and their titles, or are the product of DD’s fevered imagination, but I have had fun trying to find out. (I could just ask DD, but where’s the challenge in that?)

A couple of them I recognise:

‘The Yuletide Handsel’ by DD McInnes

‘The Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch’, better known by its shorter title ‘The Skating Minister’, by Sir Henry Raeburn, 1790s.

‘The Swing’ by DD McInnes.

‘The Swing’ by Nicolas Lancret, 1730-35.

and DD mentions the inspiration in the title of a few more:

‘The Eight Lives of Mr. Tybalt (after Nicolaes Eliaszoon’s “Portrait of Nicolaes Tulp”, 1633)’ by DD McInnes.

‘Nicolaes Tulp’ by Nicolaes Eliaszoon Pickenoy.

‘On the Way Home (After William Blake’s Engraving “The Traveller hasteth in the Evening,” 1793)’ by DD McInnes.

‘The Traveller hasteth in the Evening 14 Publishd 17 May 1793 by WBlake Lambeth’
Engraving from ‘For Children. The Gates of Paradise’, by William Blake.

‘The Turnip Spinner (After Chardin’s, “Gabriel Godefroy watching a top spin”, c.1735’, by DD McInnes.

‘Portrait of Auguste Gabriel Godefroy’ by Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin.

‘I Want, I Want (after William Blake)’ by DD McInnes.

'I want! I want!' Plate 9, For the Sexes: The Gates of Paradise, by William Blake.

‘I want! I want!’, a plate in ‘For Children: The Gates of Paradise’, by William Blake.

And if you want yet more whimsy, read the shop’s ‘About’ page. I love it!

I don’t know DD’s gender, but I’m guessing DD’s a ‘he’ as the phrase ‘grizzled painter’ is used. Mind you, as DD says the oil paints used are delivered by packs of dromedaries across the marshes of Kent, maybe I should take absolutely everything with a pinch of salt …

DD sells the original oil paintings, plus fine art prints of some of the paintings and lovely notecards too, in the Litus Gallery shop on Etsy. It’s well worth a visit, and I guarantee you’ll come away smiling.

(Sadly necessary disclaimer: I’m writing about shops that grab my fancy and fire my imagination. I’m not being paid or otherwise rewarded to do this—just spreading the love!)

Filming locations: Mompesson House

Jun11

Mompesson House. Photo by Tony Hisgett.

Mompesson House is a beautiful Queen Anne house, completed in 1701 and owned by the National Trust. It is located in the glorious Cathedral Close in Salisbury. It is the sort of house I can imagine living in: not too impossibly grand and high-ceilinged and museum-like, with cosy rooms full of interesting and lovely things, and with a pretty walled garden at the back. And of course, that view of the Cathedral to the front! It houses a fantastic collection of 18th century drinking glasses.

Salisbury Cathedral viewed from the front gate of Mompesson House, 11 June 2014. Peregrines nesting on the spire just out of shot!

In the summer of 1995 I was working on an archaeological project in the storerooms of Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum, which is also situated in the Cathedral Close. If the weather was good I would eat my lunch sitting out on the Close, enjoying the fabulous surroundings and watching the world go by. One lunchtime I noticed a gaggle of people and equipment outside Mompesson House, and so wandered over. Some sort of filming was in progress, but I didn’t know for what. Lots of people were sitting on the grass and watching the goings-on, so I plonked myself down among them. We were very close to the filming set-up, and I was pleasantly surprised that we were allowed to be so close and were not asked to move back. There were lights and reflectors and cameras and cables and endless crew busying around.

Mompesson House. I was sitting a little to the left of where this photo was taken from. Photo by Derek Voller.

Mompesson House. Photo by Derek Voller.

And then as I munched on my lunch, filming started, and Alan Rickman rides up to the house and dismounts. Alan Rickman. In breeches. My sandwich hung half way to my mouth, and my mouth hung open. Alan Rickman. Alan Bloody Rickman. In breeches. Right in front of me. There were other scenes filmed too, with a carriage, but all I could think of was Alan Rickman. In breeches. Right in front of me.

Needless to say, I took a rather longer than usual lunch break and didn’t concentrate too well on my work that afternoon.

I asked around and it turned out that I had witnessed some of the filming for the Ang Lee version of Sense and Sensibility, with Alan Rickman playing Colonel Brandon, and Mompesson House standing in for Mrs Jennings’ London townhouse.

I can’t find any online photos of Alan Rickman in this scene. In 1995 not many (if any?) mobile phones had cameras—in this day and age everybody would be snapping away like crazy. I must rewatch the film and get a screengrab.

Alan Rickman during filming of Sense and Sensibility (not at Mompesson House, from the looks of it).

Alan Rickman as Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility (not at Mompesson House: this scene was filmed at Trafalgar House near Salisbury, standing in for Barton Park, Sir John Middleton’s estate).

Alan Rickman as Colonel Brandon in sense and Sensibility. Again, not photographed at Mompesson House.

Alan Rickman in Sense and Sensibility. Again, not photographed at Mompesson House: this scene was at the Dashwood’s cottage in Devon, actually a house on the Flete Estate in Devon.

Alan Rickman and emma Thompson in Sense and Sensibility. Mompesson House in the background. I didn't see this scene being filmed.

Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson as Elinor Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility. Mompesson House in the background. I didn’t see this scene being filmed. I was probably back in the storeroom, having a fit of the vapours.

I was in Salisbury today so snapped the photo above of the view of the Cathedral from the front of Mompesson House. I wandered over to see if I could see the peregrines—I asked a stonemason working on the east front and he said the nest was on the south face of the spire. I stood by the cloisters entrance and watched for ten minutes or so, but didn’t see anything. I could certainly hear one though, squawking away on the spire. So exciting!

Update 10 August 2014: I’ve just watched the film again and the scene is a blink and you’ll miss it one: it’s when Colonel Brandon is leaving Mrs Jennings’ townhouse to take the Dashwood girls back to Devon: he’s on horseback accompanying their carriage:

Colonel Brandon leaving Mrs Jennings' house with the Dashwoods. The scene I watched being filmed.

Colonel Brandon on horseback leaving Mrs Jennings’ house with the Dashwoods in the coach. The scene I watched being filmed outside Mompesson House.