Today

The children are back at school and I have been

replenishing vases ...

meal planning ...

and restocking ...

*contented sigh*

xxx

In Enid's Footsteps

I bought this fascinating book from a charming little shop in Corfe Castle at the weekend; right at the end of our spontaneous bank holiday jaunt to Dorset.

I don't know about you but I adored Enid Blyton's books as a child.  She wrote hundreds of books and I read most of them.  From The Enchanted Wood and The Wishing Chair, The Famous Five and The Secret Seven to the St Clare's and Mallory Towers series.  To me, the woman herself is every bit as magical as the characters she created.

It seems we walked in Enid's footprints during our short stay.  I don't think I can articulate how that makes me feel.  It gives me tingles ...

About a week or so ago, we decided that we NEEDED to breathe the sea air and feel sand between our toes just one more time before autumn takes it's grip.  After some frantic 'phoning round, we managed to secure ourselves a few nights on a campsite at Harman's Cross, not far from Swanage.  We knew the campsite was adjacent to one of the stations on the Swanage Steam Railway line but didn't quite realise how close we would be to the track!

Such a glorious sight!  I challenge the most dour grown-up not to beam and wave madly as a gleaming steam train comes puff-puff-puffing into view!

Enid Blyton first visited Dorset in 1931, at the age of 33, when she was pregnant with her first child.  She later returned time and time again, spending many holidays in the area.  Her deep and abiding love the for the county inspired her to write the Famous Five series of books.

Enid's daughter, Gillian, remembers a holiday in 1941,

"One day we took the (steam) train to the little village of Corfe, with it's narrow, twisting streets and small grey stone houses."

I love Corfe.  Strolling slowly around the pretty streets with the sun on your shoulders, peering into cottage windows, is my idea of bliss.  A pause for a cream tea is of course absolutely necessary.

Towering over the village is Corfe Castle.

Enid Blyton said,

"As I drove along in my little car, I saw, far away, a rounded hill, and on it was the ruin of an old, old castle.  I took the first road that led to it, and soon came to the hill.  On the top were the remains of the castle itself.  Round the slopes were the battlements with their slit-like windows.  At the bottom of the hill was a deep ditch which once upon a time had held water and formed a moat all around the castle."

It is suspected that Corfe Castle was the inspiration for 'Kirrin Castle' mentioned in Five On A Treasure Island and Five On Kirrin Island Again.

Enid and her daughters often stayed in Swanage.

In the Adventure Of Strange Ruby, Swanage is actually named and described in the story as

"a great wide bay of forget-me-not blue, with hardly a ripple or a wave, except just at the edge.  Behind rose the glorious hills".

Sadly, dogs aren't allowed on the beach in high season (we had Bertie with us) so instead we enjoyed a bracing stroll along the front doing 'seasidey things' - popping in and out of the shops and amusement arcades.

Oh, and eating blue ice cream.  Naturally.

Guess what I also found?  A tiny little wool shop not far from the seafront, positively crammed floor to ceiling with yarny yumptiousness.  I popped in, just for a look, because I really, really, REALLY don't need any more ...

Oh bugger.  Absolutely no willpower, that's my problem!

One of the reasons we love Dorset, is it's rugged coastline.  On Saturday, we decided to explore, starting with Chapman's Pool, a rough-cut horseshoe-shaped cove in the landscape.

It's completely inaccessible by car so is a bit of a trek to say the least and pretty treacherous at times I can tell you (particularly if you are a dithering townie wearing flip flops, ahem!).  The views, however, as you descend are breathtaking.

Picture courtesy of Wikipedia!

I don't know if you can tell from the photograph above but there was a rockfall, right in front of our eyes, on the opposite side of the cove.  I've never heard anything quite like the booming noise it made.  It was really quite frightening, a real reminder of Mother Nature's might.  Can you see the teeny tiny shapes of the people to the left of the picture?  They didn't hang around long afterwards!

After climbing back up to the coastal path, we headed for Dancing Ledge which is a large, flat shelf of rock at the foot of a small cliff.  There is no shore, the sea simply 'dances' up to and around the ledge.

Consequently, it's deep.  Really deep.  The perfect place for a bit of father and son fishing.  Permission to gloss over whether in fact they caught anything? ;-)

A small 'swimming pool' was blasted in to the ledge in the early 1900s for the use of local Prep schools, after it was considered far too dangerous for the children to swim in the sea.

Excerpt from Mallory Towers,

"One of the things that Darrell liked best of all was the big swimming pool down by the sea.  This had been hollowed out of a stretch of rocks, so that it had a nice, rocky, uneven bottom.  Seaweed grew at the sides, and sometimes the rocky bed of the pool felt a little slimy.  But the sea swept into the big, natural pool each day, filled it, and made lovely waves across it."

We spent our last morning at one of the sheltered beaches of Studland Bay where Bertie was free to frisk.  We pottered, paddled and looked for treasures.

Enid's company, set up to manage her financial affairs, bought the Isle Of Purbeck Golf Club at Studland in 1951.  Enid and her husband were very keen golfers.

Studland was Enid's inspiration for Noddy's Toy Town and PC Plod was based on a well-known, well-liked, local policeman of the time, PC Christopher Rone.

The children go back to school on Thursday.  I'm not sure I know where the time has gone.  I have to say, it's been a wonderful summer.  I feel more inclined to welcome autumn having had a good fill of long hazy days and plenty of sunshine, don't you?

From Five Go Off In A Caravan,

"'I do love the beginning of the summer hols,' said Julian.  'They always seem to stretch out ahead for ages and ages.'

'They go so nice and slowly at first,' said Anne, his little sister.  'Then they start to gallop.'

xxx

If I Were Still On Instagram ...

I'd have greeted you this morning with a gratuitous 'coffee in pyjamas' photo.

I'd then, more than likely, have shared a colourful coffee table snapshot.  (Ever so slightly contrived in that the sunflowers were actually on the mantelpiece five minutes previously and the magazine on the floor.)

I may well have mentioned the fact that I'd bought Mollie Makes purely for the 'pretty rose cross stitch kit' attached to the front (all the time looking over my shoulder to ensure that Blondie Daughter wasn't lurking and witnessing my shameful hypocrisy; I've lost count of the number of times I've scolded her for spending her pocket money on a comic, just for the freebie.)

I would definitely have included a picture of my new Next (via eBay) duvet cover.  It's like sleeping in a ditsy floral cloud and pleases me hugely.

I would have confirmed that, absolutely yes, peaches and parma ham are indeed a match made in heaven.

Without a shadow of a doubt, I would have shared pictures of my new shoes.  Proper grown-up clip-cloppy shoes with heels but with a Mary Jane twist.  I would explain to you that I'm normally a flip-flop or ballet flats kinda girl so as to emphasise the resonance of such a purchase.

But I'm not on Instagram any more.  I took the leap.  It was beginning to irk* rather than inspire.  So my dear blog friends, you got the pictures instead!!!  It's a surprisingly hard habit to break.

xxx

*I did post a little farewell message before I left - to those who missed it, I'm sorry.  I was wavering about leaving anyway.  I fell in love with Instagram for the exchange of ideas and chatty interaction with lovely likeminded friends (I miss you).  Sadly, it seems now to be heavily-laden with giveaways and self-promotion.  The current preoccupation with weight loss and obsessive exercise makes me feel a little uneasy too.  But maybe that's just me.

Feeling Foodie

It's a funny old business returning home from a holiday, don't you think?

The two things I look forward to most about coming home are being reunited with Bertie spaniel (he stays at my MIL's) and sleeping in my own bed.

Without fail, I always get an overwhelming desire to simplify things.  I think it's after living out of a suitcase for almost two weeks.  I want to declutter and get back to basics.  Ideally, I should like us each to own only two outfits (one to wear while one is in the wash).  I want no more than one knife, fork, spoon, plate etc., per person.  I want a one in-one out way of life.  I want scrubbed-clean white-washed walls and to shop for the day's food each morning.

Too much sun to the head I suspect.

I adore cooking but, oh my, it's so good to have a break - not just from the actual cooking but the meal-planning and shopping too.  D always takes over the food reins completely when we go on holiday.  Since being home though, I've thoroughly enjoyed getting back into the swing again and yes, you could say, my culinary batteries have been well and truly recharged.

This week, we've had the most heavenly spinach quiche.  I followed the link from the wonderful Posie Gets Cozy's blog here for the recipe.  (I substituted Monterey Jack cheese for a mature cheddar which, rightly or wrongly, worked brilliantly.)

Everybody's favourite chorizo and chickpea stew.

Pesto pasta (this time with watercress and basil) and a scattering of toasted burnt pine nuts.

A warm salad of trout, new potatoes and watercress.

Ooh, I was tickled pink too to find that Waitrose sells my beloved samphire (albeit for about four times the French market price).  I've been pinning recipe ideas like a mad thing and it would seem I'm not the only one who's fallen under it's salty spell!

The holiday blues struck one night earlier in the week.  D was late home from work and both Blondies were at respective friends houses and I suddenly felt quite low.  I missed them all terribly and wanted us to be back in France, together.  It did pass.

It's been a week of very little else to report really.  Just long, lazy days of bitting and bobbing.

D and I are meeting some friends for a steak and chip supper at the pub tonight.  I'm off to paint my toenails and earmark a roomy top to wear!!!

xxx

PS.  Thank you so much for all your kind comments.  I don't tell you enough but I do delight in every single one.  My blog always strikes me as a lot more scrappy than most so it thrills me that you're there, reading.  I'm often asked crochet-related questions which I hope to tackle in a 'loose ends' type post very soon.

Tour Of France

We've just arrived home after eleven days driving through France.

When we were planning our trip, D was quite desperate to include a couple of days in the Alps.  He loves to ski and has been there on numerous occasions but never in the summertime.

We stayed at a beautiful hotel in Les Arcs 1800 which had breathtaking views of the mountains, including Mont Blanc.

We pottered down into the resort in the evening.

Word of caution - if you're ever offered a constant flow of Juniper-flavoured drinks from a friendly restaurant owner with twinkling eyes, please say "no"!  Silly D.

However, a trip in a clanking cable car is the best hangover cure.

Volonne, in Provence, was our next stop, where we camped for four days.

The campsite was perched right on the edge of the River Durance.

I loved the small medieval town of Volonne.  Apparently Napoleon passed through in 1815 and stopped for a wee on his way to Sisteron!  There's a war memorial in the centre, from which the narrow haphazard streets all spread like tendrils.

We sat in a small cafe where four local men were playing cards, gesticulating wildly, chain-smoking and drinking Pastis at 11 o'clock in the morning.  I could have stayed there all day watching them if it wasn't so stiflingly hot.

One of my favourite things about camping is the alfresco eating.

I've come back with a new found love for spicy Merguez sausages and an addiction to salty samphire!

Our final destination and my absolute favourite was the south coast, on the French Riviera.  We stayed in a small chalet on a campsite in Port Grimaud, a short walk from the beach.  With temperatures of more than 35 degrees almost every day, the sea breeze was such a massive relief I can tell you.

The Blondies happily helped me scout for sea glass.

The town of Port Grimaud is often referred to as 'Little Venice'; it's a network of waterways lined with pastel-coloured fishermen's cottages, each with their own boat mooring.  We fell madly in love with the place.

We took a short boat trip around the waterways which was wonderful.  It being early evening, a lot of the residents were sitting on their tiny terraces with a glass of wine, doors thrown wide open, waving to passing boats.

When we win the lottery(!), the very first thing we'll do is to buy one of these cottages!

Port Grimaud is only a short ferry trip from Saint Tropez.  We went there one evening but, frankly, it wasn't for me at all.  I found it dirty and showy and quite suffocating.  I wasn't inspired to take a single photograph and was quite glad to leave.

One of my favourite meals was one of our last, just here, in a restaurant in Port Grimaud, under a bridge, right by the water's edge.

We completed the drive from Port Grimaud back home in about 15 hours.

Before we set off on our holiday, we each had a guess at how many miles we'd travel.  We all fell way short of the total which was 2099!  Seriously.  It was a loooong drive, albeit broken up into large chunks.  I'm not sure if I personally could do it again.  However, I adored the time with my precious family and driving really is the best way to see a country.  I mean REALLY see it.

Oh it's so good to be home though!

xxx