Good morning, Jeff.

Good morning Jeff.   Jeff is slow to get moving in the morning, as he needs to warm up first.   This takes about half an hour after the heat lamps come on.   His favourite sleeping place is under the log, and I notice that he scrapes away some of the sand, so that he has a shallow depression to sleep in.   Very cosy!

I wait until he warms up some more, and then it is time for breakfast, live brown crickets, sometimes covered in calcium or vitamins.   He is usually very hungry in the morning and chomps his breakfast up eagerly.    

And now Jeff is ready for the day ahead, sitting and looking at the world around him.   He enjoys this pastime.   I wonder what he is thinking?    Planning his escape?   No doubt wondering about all the strange creatures he can see moving around outside, taking photographs and talking to him.  

Thank goodness there is glass between Jeff and the outside world!  

Barnsdale Gardens

Barnsdale Gardens, near Oakham and Stamford, in the tiny county of Rutland, was originally home to the BBC's Gardeners' World programme, which the late Jeff Hamilton presented during the 1980s and early 1990s.    It is now run by his son, Nick Hamilton, and includes tea rooms, gift shop and garden nursery.  It also runs courses and events, plus provides a venue for weddings and functions.

There are 39 individual gardens on the 8 acre site, all developed to give people an assortment of ideas for building their own garden.   

I can remember watching Jeff Hamilton, as he established various gardens, on Gardeners' World, so was absolutely delighted when Richard and Dawn asked if we would like to visit Barnsdale Gardens.  

A stop for coffee before we started was a necessity of course.  One needs to be fully alert when visiting gardens such as Barnsdale.  Good coffee too.

Walter admiring the walkway covered with espaliered fruit trees.

A family group enjoying a cottage garden.

A wildlife garden, with plenty of bees humming around the flower heads.

A beautiful eucalyptus tree, very silvery and shimmery, towering above the shrubs.

A peaceful corner in one of the gardens.

An unusual sculpture in front of one of the vegetable gardens.

A cool spot under the trees.   Time for a rest and to dream.

A shady walkway leading to yet another garden.  Mysterious turning in the path ahead.

The formal pool and knot garden, with a painting on display.

A wedding in progress.   What a wonderful setting.

Colour co-ordinated, in yellow.   And hundreds of bees, which did not show up in the photograph.

I loved the topiary pieces in this garden.  

This is a cottage garden, with a box design in the middle. Very precise.

This looks like a seaside garden but looking at the plan, I think it is called the Lands' End garden.

I was so taken with the gardens that I spent the time looking and photographing gardens and plants, but did not refer to the Visitors' Guide.   Until now.    So of course, I cannot identify all the photographs.   Typical.

However, it was a fantastic place to visit, to browse around enjoying the designs, perfumes, textures, flowers, and the variety of trees and plants.    And to to dream about making some changes in one's own garden.   Truly inspirational.

Islip

Last Friday we set off to see our friends, Dawn and Richard, in Islip, Northamptonshire.   A lovely day, weather wise, but the motorways were very busy, and progress was slow.   Eventually we arrived in Islip, and were greeted warmly by Dawn and Richard.   

After a couple of glasses of welcome cold water, we recovered from our busy journey, and were ready to look at, and appreciate, their beautiful garden.   This garden was part of the Open Gardens Scheme in June, and received many visitors.    And I can see why, the garden is tranquil, green and full of interesting trees and plants.    

We sat on their patio and looked up at the blue sky through the branches above.    Magnificent.

The bark on this tree is pretty spectacular, and is an interesting feature in the garden.   My apologies to garden lovers, but I have forgotten the name of this tree, but I can find it out, if you are interested.

The conservatory overlooks the garden, and does not get too hot as it is north facing.   Dawn and Richard have many pots of plants, varieties that have interesting characteristics.   Dawn, Walter and Richard relaxing in the conservatory.    Coffee time.

The house was built about 1820, and has been beautifully restored, and definitely 'gezellig', meaning cosy and great atmosphere.  

Dawn took me to her allotment, which I was really interested in, as I once owned an allotment, but had to let it go when life became too busy, travelling.   Dawn dug up potatoes for lunch, Charlottes, which were very tasty, and picked a pot of raspberries and blackberries for me to take home.  

I was very envious of Dawn's beautifully kept allotment, even though she apologised about the weeds.   Dawn, you never saw what my allotment was like!  

And the view over the rolling hills was breathtaking.   I would find it very difficult to work on an allotment here, as the temptation to stand or sit and gaze around would be just too tempting.

After a delicious lunch, we said a reluctant goodbye to Dawn and Richard and set off back to Kent.   A truly lovely weekend.

Jeff on his own

Jeff spent two nights on his own, while we were away visiting friends.   I left two containers of water, lettuce, dandelion leaves, small pieces of carrot, and pellets for him.   And hoped for the best.    

When we returned this afternoon, Jeff was standing in front of his window looking out at the world, and he had eaten all the green food, half of the carrots, and a little of the pellets.   He is obviously not keen on pellets.   And had paddled in the water.  

I hope Jeff was pleased to see me.   He certainly was overjoyed when he saw the crickets, covered in calcium powder, and made a quick dash to grab them one by one.   Not a fair chase really as the crickets were a bit weighed down by the powder.   I then gave him three more crickets as a reward.  

Jeff was very active after that, and tore around his vivarium trying to catch imaginary crickets.   In the photograph below he is balanced on the log, all ready to pounce on an imaginary cricket.

And now I must get him out for a short while, while he is sleepy, and will not run out of my hands.   I do not fancy looking for a lost bearded dragon.

Jeff - the continuing story

 Yesterday Jeff ate small locusts which were much slower, and after eating them quickly he spent the day looking at me through the glass.   Very fat and happy looking.     

Jeff needs a bit of exercise and he certainly got it this morning.    The crickets I gave him were very fast, and Jeff had to really work hard to try and catch them.   This is why he is crouching behind a rock, hiding, and ready to pounce.

I also got a bit of exercise trying to put the crickets into the plastic bag, in order to shake the calcium powder over them.    I hope Jeff enjoyed the extra taste.   Two crickets escaped and I had to chase them around the room.  I managed to grab one with a tissue but the other is still at large, no doubt with plans to surprise me when I am least expecting it.   Anyway it has had a lucky escape, for the moment.

Apparently lizards can become obese!   A fact that one does not associate with lizards.

Jeff

Well you have looked at the photograph below, and guessed it, Jeff is a lizard.    A bearded dragon  lizard.    But first we must not confuse the name with Geoff, the gold fish, that belongs to Donna and Patrick, and who is soon to find a home in the Palmer's gold fish pond.   

No this Jeff, spelled differently, is a lizard, and he belongs to the Palmer household.   We are currently lizard sitting while they are on holiday.   And he is so cute.   He likes to sit and watch the world outside his box, which is called a vivarium.  And already we are talking to him, as we walk past.   He also likes to paddle in his water bowl and eats cut up dandelion leaves, lettuce and pieces of carrot.   

 But most of all he loves crickets, live of course, which have to be dusted with vitamin powder or calcium powder.  The idea is to shake the crickets from their box, into a plastic bag, tip some powder into the bag, and shake it a bit, and then release the crickets into the vivarium.    I feel cruel and heartless when I do this, but of course Jeff loves the crickets, and quickly catches them, and chomps them up.

Jackson has typed a list of instructions for me to follow, and it all seems very clear so far.  

Which brings me onto the subject of lizards.   Scott once owned a bearded dragon lizard called Pogo and he out grew his first vivarium very quickly, so a larger one was bought, and still Pogo kept growing.   Pogo grew to about 60cm long, which apparently his a normal length.   He ended up eating locusts instead of tiny crickets, and once they got out of their box and were found in all corners of the house.   One was found on Donna's pillow, which did not impress her.    Pogo was eventually given to another family and lived until he was about 8 years old.  

And the photograph below was not a pet, and now I realise it was not a bearded dragon.   It does not have the pointed scales around the neck and face, and the markings are different.   So now I do not know what type of lizard it was, but it was sunning itself outside Darren's back door in Adelaide, Australia.    I did not go too near it case the thing bit me.    Coward that I am.     

The bearded dragon lizard does come from the deserts of Australia, and is a very docile lizard.   But Australia has some pretty large and fearsome lizards.

Darren has suggested I catch some live spiders for Jeff.    You must be joking, Darren.

Les Miserables

What is this?    A film or a book review!  It is obvious that I have too much time on my hands.   But I would like to share with you an achievement.  I have read Les Miserables.   Yes the whole book, in English.   I cannot claim extra praise by reading it in French, unlike my friend Kathy, who read it in French as part of her A Level French studies.

I spent seven weeks reading Les Miserables, not constantly of course, and sometimes I managed only a few pages at a time.  Heavy reading.  And heavy to hold, that is if I was reading an actual book.   But luckily it was in digital form, on my tablet, and on my telephone, so I could pick it up as I went along..   And much lighter to hold.  My digital version said 959 pages, but it was strange reading a small section of each page on the telephone.   Lots of flicking over there.

I started reading Les Miserables when I left the UK mid May and finished it at the end of June.   I read it as I travelled through the Netherlands, Germany, Poland, Czech Republic Slovak Republic, Hungary, Slovenia, Italy and France.   I must admit, for my own sanity, I also read brochures, maps and some much lighter literature.  Just for a bit of light relief.

The fascination with Les Miserables and Victor Hugo started when I saw the musical in 1989 in Adelaide.    And renewed again when I watched the film version of it on the plane coming back from Australia this year.   On a small screen, you might say!  But yes, it was captivating, and perfect really, as there was no chance to hear all the imperfections in the singing.   And it took one's mind away from being up in the air, miles from anywhere.

I also once visited a Victor Hugo museum, at a place called Villequier, Normandy, on the banks of the Seine River, not far from the river mouth.   We were not really looking for the museum but stopped because it looked a nice spot for lunch.    I was with Aaron, Kylie and Emma, on a five day visit to Normandy, in 1996, in our small car, laden down with luggage and goods bought from the hypermarket.

To be truthful I had to recently do some research on the internet in order to find the name of the town we visited, as the museum is not as well known as the two main main museums, the Maison de Victor Hugo in Paris, where Victor Hugo lived from 1832 to 1848, and Hauteville House, in Guernsey on the island of Jersey, where he lived in exile for fifteen years from 1851.    His crime was his political leanings, very vocal.   and he opposed Louis Bonaparte. But the museum in Villequier is the departmental museum of Victor Hugo.

Villequier was also important, for tragic reasons, as this was where his daughter Leopoldine, 19 years old, drowned in a boating accident.   She was in a boat, with her husband, and newly married, when it capsized.    Leopoldine was dragged down into the Seine river by the weight of her skirts and her husband drowned trying to save her.  And this affected Victor Hugo greatly.   So much so he wrote a poem about her, and if I remember correctly from my visit there, he used her as a model for one of the characters in Les Miserables, but I have forgotten which character, and the internet did not tell me that.

Les Miserables is a very difficult word to translate into English apparently (The Miserable Ones, The Wretched, The Poor Ones, The Victims - Wikipedia).  But I think all these translations are pretty correct, as this is definitely not a happy book, about happy people and happy places.  Dark, dark, dark!

As well as being exhaustingly depressing, Les Miserables is extremely complex, with its exacting historical content, character analysis, sub plots, and sub sub plots.  The book also depicts architecture, politics, moral philosphy, justice and religion.   Many, many chapters are devoted to the Battle of Waterloo, and to the priest that befriended Jean Valjean and to explain moral points.  Intertwined with the history and character analysis there is a story of romantic and familial love.

And the end of the story is just as dramatic and emotionally packed as in the film version.   It takes quite a few chapters for Jean Valjean to die, and by the end you feel emotionally drained.    The words display a fair bit of imagery, so one does not need acting, singing and visual imagery to obtain the very strong emotions Victor Hugo is portraying in his book.

Victor Hugo was a very powerful and brilliant writer.   There was no doubt about that.    Also the book is free to download from Kindle books, if you have plenty of time to spare.   Or you can read the abbreviated version on Wikipedia.  Much quicker, but you miss out on all the detail, and sub plots.  And feel less drained emotionally and mentally.  

All in all I am pleased I made the effort to read Les Miserables, and feel richer for the experience.   An achievement, I say!

Houten - a short visit

A short trip to Houten.    Mainly to have a girly few days together with Kylie, but with the added bonus of being able to see Aaron, Mia, Abi and Raphy too.    And the weather was glorious.   What a difference sunshine makes, to a country.    On my last visit the weather was bitterly cold and wet.

We flew from Southend on an Easy Jet plane which I am sure was only held together with rubber bands and string.    A noisy take off and landing with rattles and shudders thrown in.    I had forgotten how strict  cheap airlines are over luggage, and how pedantic the small airports are with security.   The process involved taking belongings in and out of my suitcase, measuring it, taking off jewellery and watch, losing my passport, setting the buzzers off, taking my shoes off, being searched (body and bags), and then having all my belongings sent through the scanners again, all in different trays and at different times.    After all that I finally retrieved my belongings, checked that I had everything, gave a sigh of relief, and then someone asked me if I now felt safe to fly, knowing that there were such rigid security checks in place.   It is good to see that some people do not lose their sense of humour. 

We arrived safely in Schiphol, and after a cup of coffee, recuperative of course, we caught the train to Utrecht, then Houten, without any further problems.

  The Rond, Houten set up as a beach, minus the sea.  This is a relief as the sea, which once lapped the edge of Utrecht, is now some distance away, and hopefully that will always be so.   The area is currently being used for beach volley ball games, football, and general relaxation, with seating and a bar.   A very creative idea.

We managed to obtain bikes for us all, by using Kylie's old English bike, a bike from their friends, and I hired one from the office at the railway station.  The hiring of the bike was not without a bit of hassle as I had to use my limited Dutch, use cash, and in the end received the oldest and most dilapidated bike there.

A few notes on travel in the Netherlands.  It is a great cycling country, but not set up for bicycle hire from railway stations unless you are a resident with an OV Travel Card.   It is the same when purchasing a ticket from machines in railway stations that do not have a ticket office.  Tickets can only be purchased using coins, as the machines will not accept notes or credit cards.  And while I am on the subject of difficulties for tourists, you must have an OV Card to use the trams in Amsterdam.   Obviously not very tourist friendly.

But I had a bicycle, and it worked.   On Monday morning we set off for morning coffee at Vroeg, Bunnik, which is an upmarket cafe/restaurant about half an hour away from Houten.     As it was such a beautiful day we sat outside in the sunshine, and drank coffee and apple cake (for us) and cheese and vegetable sticks (for Kylie).

After coffee, and a look at the very strange hand basins in the toilets, which were red plastic buckets attached to the tap, we set off to tour the cherry orchards.    About ten minutes down the road, and a stop at the first cherry farm,  I remembered I had left my jacket behind so we had to go back.  Sorry girls.

Then we decided to ride into the park in Bunnik, instead of looking at cherry farms, and were delighted with the park, which was absolutely beautiful.    What a setting for a picnic, on a sunny day of course.

A photo opportunity here, on a bridge.   A good excuse to rest the bottoms for a minute too.   

On Tuesday we set out for Utrecht, about forty five minutes away.   This time Raphy came with us, in the Bakfiets, as he did not have nursery.

First stop, coffee, at a specialist coffee shop called Brandmeester.   The aroma in there, coffee of course, not the other substance, was unbelievably divine.   We also purchased coffee beans, and leaf tea, before setting off to explore Utrecht, or at least the shops.

Everywhere we went there were tables and chairs outside, cafes and restaurants taking advantage of the warm sunny weather.

Only one bicycle photograph this time, a hand painted green and yellow one, looking very smart.

Another photo opportunity, Emma and Donna looking happy and relaxed.

Lunch in a small park.   A healthy lunch too, bought from the Greek takeaway.   Salad, cheese, spinach pie.   Healthy.   No chips with lashings of mayonnaise for us.

After lunch, it was off to the sales, for a spot of retail therapy.   

A coffee shop!  Perhaps not!  For those people who have not visited the Netherlands, cafes are for coffee and coffee shops are for something that has a bit more substance.   It is possible to become happy just standing around the entrance, sniffing the smoke that hangs around the shop.  And for anyone that is keen to partake in such delights in one of the coffee shops, the law now states that you must prove you are a citizen of the Netherlands.   Nothing for the tourist anymore.   Sorry folks.

And off home again.    Now which bike is mine? The three of us managed to find our way back to Houten, without any difficulties, thanks to a co-operative effort.  It is best not to mention who took the wrong turning and who took us on an extra long loop into Houten.  All part of the trip home. But we did get caught up in peak hour bicycle traffic, which was very scary for us novice cyclists.

Card evening.    We very kindly invited Aaron to join us, and then when he realised he was in the lead, he played an underhand trick and caught us all with high numbers in our hands, and we all went out the back door, so as to speak.  The photograph was taken when before we lost, badly!   So of course we still look happy.

The last day, and I handed back my bike so it was time for doubling, that is, Emma doubling Donna.  No one trusted me.   A very bumpy ride, according to Donna, in between the laughter.      

And then we said a reluctant goodbye and caught the train back to Schiphol, where we boarded the plane without any fuss.    No hassles with security or baggage, thank goodness. This time the plane appeared to be sturdier, or maybe I was feeling more relaxed.    I must say Southend looked very good from the air, as did the surrounding areas.   Back home to England.   In the sunshine.

Waddeson Manor, Buckinghamshire

Last weekend we travelled to Tring to stay with Donna and Patrick.    It was lovely to see them after our seven weeks away.   The weather was also glorious.   What more can one wish for.  

On Sunday we decided to visit Waddesdon Manor, which is a country house in the village of Waddesdon, in Buckinghamshire.   Some country house!   We thought we were in the Loire Valley.   Then I found out that the house was built in 1874-89, in the Neo-Renaissance style of a French chateau.   The owner, a man called Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild, used the house to display his outstanding collection of art treasures and to entertain the fashionable world.   Lots of money!   

The house and gardens now belong to the National Trust, but as we had Poppy, the dog, with us we decided to just visit the gardens.   But it turned out that dogs were not allowed in the gardens, so poor Patrick had to walk up and down the road, while we had a quick look at the gardens.    Welcome back to England.

Donna and I posing in front of the fountain.

And again in the summer house, by the bird aviary.

The artistic display of flowers and plants was quite remarkable.

There were even living sculptures, bird shapes covered in plants, sedges I think.

I loved the lace effect in this garden bed, which was created by using curry plants.    

A group of gardeners were cutting and gathering the grass, using traditional methods.   Fascinating.

A shady refuge, where many people were having picnics.   No dogs of course.

And then it was off to a town that was more realistic, more down to earth, and very tatty around the edges,  Aylesbury.  Aylesbury has plenty of history, but during the 1960s it was selected as an overspill town for Londoners and a massive housing expansion took place.   At the same time, the centre of Aylesbury was extensively renovated and modernised, unfortunately not with a lot of imagination.    But I would still like to take the Heritage Walk, as the history is very interesting.  

Last weekend there was much activity in the market square, with bands, and activities and rides for the children.    We had a very good cup of coffee at a cafe in the square.   Always a good start.

On Saturday evening we sat on the new patio and enjoyed a delicious barbeque dinner.    Patrick had spent most of the day building the wooden deck, and we were very impressed with the result.   Well done Patrick. Top marks.

We left unwillingly on Sunday afternoon, and travelled back on an empty motorway, while Murray successfully played in the tennis finals at Wimbledon.   I think everyone was at home, watching the match.  Well timed journey.