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A time for harvest

Ah autumn, there you are!

What a busy few weeks it has been! Harvest celebrations, dinner parties in the village, Primrose’s birthday, her party complete with farm animals in our garden and a hilarious moment in the dark changing a Land Rover tyre with Jerry and one of the villagers…… I am definitely ready for a rest in the dark with a large gin and tonic, dear Reader!

Autumn is rushing around too it would seem! Our little landscape is changing again and walks have become muddier and leaf-strewn. Everywhere you look, you can see that the harvest has well and truly been brought in. Gathering with all the villagers to celebrate the bounty in a neighbour’s barn, Jerry, Primrose, Poppy and I felt rather like we had stepped into ‘dreams of foregone times’ last week. Hops hanging from the ceiling, checked tablecloths and wine flowing, homemade shepherd’s pies made by the ladies of the village (and of course, yours truly) as well as crumbles galore, the whole village sat together following the Sunday service to eat, drink and generally make merry! A time honoured tradition, made even more special by the whole village singing “Happy Birthday” to Primrose. Primrose was mortified, slumping further and further down her chair until she was almost under the table! Poor love! Mind you, Primrose wasn’t the only one to blush with embarrassment that day. Asked by the village harvest committee to create a floral display for one of the church windows, I had no idea of the brief and ended up creating a rustic autumnal wreath to sit amongst a sea of really rather elegant blooms. One villager called it ‘charming’. I wondered if this was village vernacular was ‘a pile of old rubbish’. However, I did at least manage to make it all from things in our garden and although it wasn’t the most beautiful tribute to the harvest in the church, it did have a bit of Margot charm. Well, at least Jerry and the girls thought so!

Let’s hope they don’t ask me to do anything for Christmas!

Best of all, was the amazing haul of vegetables we were given as we left the harvest lunch. The village is awash with fantastic kitchen gardens, orchards and flower gardens. I shall to have to up my game seriously for next year. Squash, artichokes, potatoes, courgettes, purple and orange carrots….I could hardly carry my handbag as it was brimming with veg! Dear Reader, I had no idea that pattypans really existed outside of Beatrix Potter but here they are..

I am not sure that this is the same pattypan that Duchess was worried about eating in the veal and ham pie though! WHAT is a patty-pan?

From harvests and growing your own food……we even managed to parade (albeit briefly) as a smallholding for Primrose’s birthday party. 2 donkeys, 2 goats, 2 pigs, 2 sheep, 2 turkeys, 2 bantams, 2 call ducks, a mini colony of guinea pigs and rabbits and one extremely well behaved dog (note, dear Reader, that it was most certainly not Monty, who was kept inside for fear of him devouring a duck). A veritable mini Noah’s Ark and all in OUR GARDEN! A huge hit with children and grown ups alike. I was happy to play farmer’s wife and it did get me thinking about how marvellous it might be to rear a pig next year when we are a little more settled. Jerry nearly had a coronary when he heard the farmer who brought the livestock to the cottage, saying that he would happily give us the Kune Kune weaners he had brought that day. Apparently they do make the most delicious sausages! Considering that I have finally managed to persuade Jerry to let me have some chickens, I think that asking for a pig for Christmas might be a step too far. For now, dear Reader, for now…….!

I suppose I shall have to make do with this little piggy!

An apple a day

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Apples a plenty and a few lusciously large quinces too!

Harvest is here and the village and hedgerows are laden with sumptuous treats! Apples are everywhere and almost every villager has offered us some of the bountiful produce! Our dear new neighbours, the Worthingtons have an orchard the other side of the fence which is truly to die for and what is more dear Reader, is that they have said that we can pick apples until we drop! I have, of course, taken them up on that offer. Oooh I am already planning endless crumbles, tarte tatins, jellies, apple butters, chutney……delicious….and it is not even National Apple Day (21st October).

Armed with an apple picker, Primrose, Poppy and I spent a glorious afternoon gathering apples and learning all about old English varieties of cookers and eaters. Mrs Worthington is now known as ‘apple lady’ according to Poppy. Trampling in and amongst the apple trees, I was reminded of why we moved to the countryside in the first place – a desire to lead a simpler life. Well, Margot’s idea of a simpler life at any rate! There will be no knitting of yoghurt here! On a sunny day in September, it was heavenly to watch my own dear dots scrambling through the apple boughs and munching on their treasured finds. At that moment, I could honestly not imagine anything better! My mind is now full of ideas of growing my own mini orchard once we have tackled the jungle that is the garden. Perhaps it was the talk of cider that got me thinking about my own apples and the need for an apple press?

What a beauty! Not sure this one made it to the basket…

With our baskets laden, we skipped home to cook an apple cake. I know what you are thinking, dear Reader….MARGOT DOES NOT MAKE CAKES. This is true. However, the girls called for cake and I was desperate to use my new gadget. All hail the miraculous apple peeler and thank the Lord for Nigel Slater who has a really easy cake recipe which even this baking criminal can manage!

Everyone needs one of these – believe me! Go to Garden Trading and get one!

Edible! Makes a change!

Girls merrily scoffing cake, I had time to panic about the annual village Harvest lunch. The form is that everyone makes something for the table and I have been asked to prepare a shepherd’s pie. Nothing too extraordinary about that – shepherd’s pie is shepherd’s pie. Well I think it is at any rate but you never know, the village might have an ancient pie tradition which I haven’t discovered as yet. The real anxiety, resting pie issues to one side, is that in addition to the culinary part comes a request for a harvest floral display for the village church. Oh dear! I have been frantically researching autumn displays and wreaths for days now and I am still none the wiser. Where is a local florist when you need one? Do they not realise that I am townie and know nothing of arranging flowers? At this rate, I might just have to hang apples from the church ceiling in a decorative fashion…….apple bobbing anyone?!

Autumn drawing nearer

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The oilman cometh!

It is completely bizarre that I found myself thinking of autumn last week when we were all basking in glorious late summer sunshine but needs must in these parts and so the oilman was a forward planning necessity! Having lived with mains sewerage and mains gas for so long, it was rather daunting knowing when to summon the oilman and how low our oil tank could get before steaming hot water would be replaced with a very cold shower! Apparently, I could have left it a bit longer…. After a demo, it would appear that if in doubt, use a large stick as oil dipstick (same as cars…I know this much) and test how far the oil comes up to on the stick to get a rough estimate as to what is left in the tank. I can just see myself now as winter draws in and it is pitch black for many more hours in the day, trying not to fall into the compost heap (right next to the oil tank) or get my Brora cardigan covered in oil as I plunge sticks into the tank and no doubt lose them. Surely that is a Jerry job?!

Tank refuelled, we addressed the next item on the list in preparation for autumn. 4 pairs of shoes and obligatory oversized uniform bought for Primrose as well as hundreds of wretched name tapes sewn in all in the nick of time as Poppy and I packed Primrose off to school for her first day. Our lovely girl was very brave and simply waved us off from the door, leaving me to run back to the car with Poppy for a little sob. Needless to say that Primrose had a fabulous day but Poppy, Monty and I were bereft of the usual jokes and japes on our morning walk and Poppy really noticed her sister’s absence.

To try and keep ourselves out of trouble whilst Primrose is out at ‘work’, Poppy and I have taken on a significant number of projects: dejunglifying the garden, clearing a space for chickens (if we can ever persuade Jerry that fresh eggs are seriously worth the effort), trying not to be chastised by the gamekeeper as Monty chases partridge and pheasants all over the place……oh, dear Reader, I could list on and on and on and on. I think that the villagers have taken US on as a project too and it is lovely getting to know all the fabulous characters in the village. All quirky and individual and keen to recruit us as part of their particular tribe! I have considerably more to do in the countryside than I ever had to do in London! A bizarre turn of events, dear Reader!

Ooh nothing more wonderful than picking your own!

First on the list, foraging for Jerry’s favourite, BLACKBERRIES!!! Poppy and I have been gleefully plunging ourselves into hedgerows in order to gather plenty of these sweet ebony jewels for a crumble or some bramble jelly. Not all of them are ready yet but the excitement of seeing them on our walks still hasn’t waned. Poppy and I did manage a little haul and miraculously, having snaffled rather a lot of them, we did have enough to make a warming plum and blackberry pudding with a couple of fallen apples thrown in for good measure. Blissfully autumnal! My Barbour and wellies have even had their first outing so autumn must be drawing nearer.

Next on the list, the chimney sweep and dear Reader, we do really need him as pigeons have been cooing down the chimney since we arrived. Imagine our shock when we found this little chap, far from home and without Mr and Mrs Pigeon to care for him. Monty barked himself hoarse trying to tell us where Master Pigeon had fallen!

Our new addition…temporary accommodation only for this one!

Primrose christened him Pecky, and was determined to help her new found friend in the form of fledgling wood pigeon on the road to recovery. She made a little bed for him, feed him wild bird seed and even made him a little water trough. Welcomed into our laundry room and allowed to roam free, Jerry was VERY quick to say that we would not be adopting any pigeons unless we were prepared to bring this one on for the pot! Primrose and I thought it best at this point to secure Pecky a speedier convalescence than we had initially planned for him. Safe in his box and on top of a very high fence post (Mr Foxy, I know your game…), we left him to bed down for the rest of the afternoon and evening. By dusk, he had fledged and Primrose was terribly disappointed that she was not going to have a pigeon pet. Thank the Lord too as pigeons are not high on my list of creatures to cuddle up to!! Don’t tell Primrose but I popped straight to the butchers the next morning after the school run. All that talk of game had put me in mind of a good recipe…..well, roasted pigeon does go remarkably with blackberry and red wine jus, dear Reader!

Autumnal bounty!

Always have biscuits

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Oooh COMBINE!

Well, dear Reader, I do apologise for my tardiness in posting but things have been blissful chaos here of late! Last week was the first week of Jerry’s daily commute back to the Big Smoke and the first week for the girls and I to brave it in the sticks alone. Quite surprisingly, the house, children, puppy and pussycats were all intact at the end of the week. I, however, needed a rather large gin! Trying to get things done in the house has been nigh on impossible, not least because the girls and I have been very distracted by all the sights and sounds around our new digs. Primrose, Poppy and I watched with glee as the combines rattled up the farm track and the fields of rapeseed disappeared. The farmer (a stereotypically grumpy farmer as described by his wife!) must have been rather bemused watching us staring at him at the edge of his field as he carried on with his harvest routine. An incredible thing for two small girls who are used to the hustle and bustle of city living. I still haven’t tired of hearing Poppy whoop with delight and yell “Tractor” from her bird’s eye view of the countryside in the backpack, every time we greet farmland at the top of the bridleway! Pure magic.

Our secret passageway towards glorious fields of wheat.

I know you are dying to hear all about the village, dear Reader and believe me, it really hasn’t disappointed. I feel like I have walked into a scene from a Jilly Cooper novel most days. Gifts of vegetables continue to flood in from the villagers, offers on cut price game birds and invitations to tea, lunch and drinks parties. I feel more sociable here than I ever did in London. Still waiting to spot Rupert Campbell Black on a sizeable stallion though….!

The slow gin looked very impressive...shame no tastings on offer.

The sloe gin looked very impressive…shame no tastings on offer.

The local village flower show proved a delight. The entries were suitably charming and the comments were hilarious……clearly a leaf taken from Paul Hollywood’s (Great British Bake Off) textbook of harsh judging. A seriously competitive business and some impressively polished silverware for the mantelpiece at stake. I hear, over the garden gate, that one year, pots of jam were marked down for lacking a doily. I stuffed a rules and regulations handbook into my ridiculously townie-sized tote to give myself necessary ammunition for next year’s show. I am determined to prove that Margot can give the bumpkins a run for their money in the jam stakes.

Monty pup has settled in well but has caused quite a stir with local dogs, landowners and has only just narrowly missed a run in with the gamekeeper. Turns out that he is rather interested in the fat little partridge who taunt him at every turn on our walks. Back to training for us and walks on a long lead for the foreseeable future. God help us when the gamekeeper releases the pheasants…. In the meantime, Monty is happily decimating local wildlife on the doorstep and devoured a live toad last week. WHOLE. I leapt in to intervene but it was too late as I watched it still wriggling as it went down. Deeply distressing but all part of nature as Jerry said when he returned from London to a wailing woman in the kitchen, worrying about karma and whether or not it might have been a prince in disguise.

As if butter wouldn’t melt….

The house is starting to take shape now and finally we unpacked a few boxes of books and it felt more like home. Dear Anthony Powell was quite right when he said “Books do furnish a room”. Jerry and I really can’t wait to light our first fire and spend our evenings curled up in its warm glow. Our life in the countryside so far seems to suit us well.

Most importantly, I have learned a few lessons in our first couple of weeks here:

1) Monty is not to be trusted off the lead here, no matter how much he gives me his best soppy spaniel face. Farmers, gamekeepers and villagers with large fields and horses do not appreciate a cheeky spaniel.

2) Expect flurries of expectant villagers all dying for a look round the house and….

3) Most importantly, always have biscuits! Seriously. With a hamlet full of folk bearing welcome gifts, biscuits and cups of tea are a necessity here.

Good Lord, I really wish I had taken some baking lessons. I seem to be constantly rushing to the next door village and will be soon know as the shortbread queen by the owners of the shop at this rate!

Hampshire calling!!!!

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Boxes, boxes, boxes….

Dear Reader, I bet you thought I had vanished into the ether or had stumbled down a ditch! Well it has certainly felt like it over the last week! We left the Big Smoke a week ago now and to be honest, life could NOT be more different. Everything is rather lovely here and Jerry, Primrose, Poppy and I keep having to pinch ourselves as it all seems too good to be true. It is every bit the rural idyll we hoped it would be. It was distinctly odd saying goodbye to the cottage but rather surprisingly I didn’t shed a tear (and I am well-known for being a tad gushy with the old water works). Perhaps that was because the time was right for us to go? The cottage seemed so small without all of our clutter and shutting the door, Jerry and I were more than happy to skip off into the sunset to try and retrieve the keys for our new countryside manor.

Boxes piled high in the ‘new’ cottage, Jerry and I spent our first night eating bread and cheese and drinking champagne from the girls’ plastic beakers. Utterly exhausted but very happy indeed. It wasn’t until Day 2 that I remembered what my lovely friend Bee had said to me about how I would feel in my first week. Then the sudden realisation hit me that there was an EXTRAORDINARY amount of unpacking to do, that the puppy still needed to be walked, girls still needed to be fed and that I was amidst farmland with no phone, no internet and no mobile signal as BT had crossed our lines with a dear old lady in the village who was housebound and now unable to use her phone too! Apparently the countryside has no need for that new fangled invention: the internet or indeed a phone line! So I can tell you, dear Reader, that I have so far spent the week unpacking boxes, yelling at BT, organising where everything is going to go, yelling at BT, shouting at the computer and phone, more yelling at BT….I am sure you get the gist, dear Reader. Margot without the internet it would seem spells mini breakdown. This combined with Monty the dog shredding a 12 pack of loo rolls, eating one of Jerry’s shoes, making himself sick gobbling up a dead mouse found in the lane, the girls refusing to go to bed because they want to watch the sunset from their bedroom window , the fridge and washing machine being too large to fit in the utility room despite being the standard size and did I mention no internet ?! To be honest, there is not enough gin in the world that could have mollified my black mood.

I am not sure that Minty would have approved of the plastic beakers…but needs must!

HOWEVER…..with every cloud comes a silver lining……..I can wholeheartedly say that never a truer word was said as we have been truly welcomed into the village with open arms. Villagers have left cards and bunches of flowers, invitations to drinks and all have greeted with the warmest of smiles and firm handshakes. The postman even ventured that he thought we would bring some much needed life to the village. So we may not be totally unpacked, we may not have any telecommunications (I am posting this from the top of our nearest hill as hanging out of the bedroom window was deemed a bit too dangerous by Jerry) BUT we all LOVE it here and feel very very much at home. Big Smoke – where’s that?! Our adventures in the countryside have just begun…..!

Sweet peas left on the doorstep!

Margot Tries the Good Life

A chronicle of the transformation from self-confessed townie to country bumpkin