Cat-sitting in Scotland

The Forester's Cottage on the Blair Estate

We've just returned from two weeks in southern Scotland, escaping the warmer summer of England's south-east.

For some years we've belonged to an organisation called Trusted Housesitters - for an annual fee you can advertise for somebody to stay in your home and care for your pets, or you can search opportunities to be the sitter. No money changes hands; it's pretty much based on trust although you do need to have a police records check as a minimum, and to register proof of identification with the organisation. Most hosts like to interview their prospective housesitters via Skype, and often they will arrange for you to meet them prior to the assignment starting, or to have you stay the first night before they head off on their holiday.

It's an ideal way to live like a local in various locations across the world, and it makes a holiday very affordable as you're not paying for accommodation. Plus, there's the bonus of enjoying somebody else's furry critters.

We decided to break the northwards driving journey with an overnight stay in Harrogate, one of North Yorkshire's most salubrious and elegant towns. I hadn't visited this lovely Yorkshire city since 1986, and Kevin had never been there.

The Pump House Museum

Exit of the Pump House Museum

Yours truly in The Sun Pavilion in Harrogate's Valley Gardens

Art deco building entry in the centre of Harrogate

Only in The North!

I had fond memories of visiting Harrogate in 1986 with my Mum. She and I had been in Norway with my Dad for about a month, and while Dad stayed on for a bit longer, Mum and I travelled to the UK and spent a further couple of weeks together. 

We were both Agatha Christie fans and so Harrogate held special interest for us - this is where the author was hiding out when she 'disappeared' in 1926. 

I have long had a fascination with that era, post-WW1 and pre-WW2. It was an incredible period for design, architecture and social progression - particularly for women. The hotel makes the most of its connection with Christie and that era, and they regularly hold 1920s/1930s murder mystery events. That's going on the bucket list!

The Old Swan, Agatha Christie's hideout when she 'disappeared' in 1926

And so onwards to south-western Scotland, after a brief lunch stop in the nearby town of Knaresborough, where we admired the railway viaduct that towers impressively over the River Nidd.

The railway viaduct above the River Nidd, Knaresborough 

Riverside thatched cottage

Knaresborough has some lovely architecture and a strong Viking connection -
note the sign 'Kirkgate' which I can tell you in Norwegian means Church Street

We arrived at our Ayrshire housesitting venue in the early evening, in time for our hosts (due to depart the following morning) to show us around the property and then serve us a wonderful meal, much of which was produced in their garden.

The beautiful Blair Estate, in which our housesitting venue was located

Blair House
- a 5-minute stroll from the cottage

Our charge for two weeks - cutie pie Tonks

One of several hauls of wild raspberries from our back garden and the Blair Estate

Our view through the gothic windows of the lounge room

Dalry is not exactly the hub of Scottish tourism, though it's very handy to Glasgow which is only about 30 minutes away by car or train. We made the most of this proximity for a number of reasons, including the fact that several good films were released while we were up there, and here in the UK you can't rely on movies running for more than a week or two  - I wasn't going to risk the run having ended by the time we returned to Surrey.

Summer evening in Glasgow

Glasgow is full of monuments to social justice. It's that kind of town

I can't tell you how eager I was for the film England is Mine to be released. For several decades I have been wildly in love with the soul of Steven Patrick Morrissey, one of modern music's most polarising artists. 

A lot of people really, REALLY hate Morrissey. He tends to speak his mind, and that mind is stridently uncompromising - particularly in relation to animal rights and artistic integrity. A vegetarian since his early teens and now a vegan, he's campaigned on behalf of PETA for decades, and every venue he plays must agree to only serve vegan food on the night(s) he is performing. If they won't agree to do that, he doesn't perform there.

Morrissey, both in collaboration with Johnny Marr during the years they formed The Smiths and as a solo artist, has written some of the most lyrically sorrowful, heart-wrenching and sonorously beautiful songs of the modern era. He's renowned for being able to express feelings of social awkwardness, that sense of being a bit different and feeling like you don't really fit in. My nephew Adam is under instructions to ensure two particular Smiths songs are played at my funeral.

England is Mine explored Morrissey's late teens and early twenties, going some way to explaining the man he became. He would probably hate the film, but I loved it. Jack Lowden did an impressive job of portraying Morrissey's difficult, awkward persona.  

England Is Mine

I can also heartily recommend A Ghost Story, a film that has divided critics and audiences (are you getting a theme here?). As crazy as it sounds, Casey Affleck spends most of this film under a sheet with the eyes cut out of it - as the most 'traditional' or perhaps naive form of ghostly representations (see image below). Despite this, I found it to be profoundly moving and beautiful.

After a couple of days ruminating on the film I suddenly realised one of the reasons it resonated so strongly with me - it has a number of parallels with my favourite film of all time, Wings of Desire, directed by Wim Wenders (1987). Both films concern supernatural beings desirous of remaining in or returning to the mortal world, both use dialogue very sparingly, and both rely heavily on silences and beautiful music as narration.  

It's been a long time since I've seen a film that I desperately want to view at least a second time, but now I'm back in Epsom I'll have to head into Kingston, Wimbleon or central London for that opportunity... it's a bit too outré for our local Odeon. 

If you're planning to see it, you need to do so in the cinema - not on your TV screen at home. 

We also took advantage of the strong Italian influence in the Glasgow region - the result of which means in the past two weeks we've had the most delicious Italian food of our lives outside of Italy, and the best coffee since leaving Australia three years ago. 

I think Scotland's delicious water - crystal clear and freezing cold, straight from the tap - is partly responsible for the good coffee, but also it appears the Scots take this beverage seriously. We never got a coffee that was burnt (water too hot) or one that was missing that wonderful 'crema' on the top which indicates good quality coffee, correct temperature water, a machine that is regularly cleaned and a barista who has been properly trained. England should send all their baristas to Scotland immediately for training.

The restaurant so good we visited twice in a week!
The Bath Street venue of the Fratelli Sarti chain of Italian restaurants

This bread was AMAZING

What to choose?!

Superb coffee, even in this humble community art gallery café in the little town of West Kilbride

Whenever we visit Scotland I find myself pondering what a fascinating place it is. On the one hand you have the superb Italian food and excellent coffee mentioned above. At the other end of the culinary spectrum you have 'chippies' on every corner, deep-fried Mars Bars, Irn Bru and the country appeared to plumb new depths on the cross-island ferry Kevin took from Androssan to the Isle of Arran - see below:

Oh, the horror of this abomination... 

There's a terrible health epidemic in Scotland, with the highest rates of obesity in the UK (second highest in the world, right after the USA), rapidly rising levels of diabetes, and the shortest life expectancy in the UK. And the smokers - everywhere... they line the streets in terrifying numbers! If only more of the population would embrace that wonderful Italian diet.

Despite Ayrshire not being the centre of the universe, we managed to find quite a number of attractions within a 60-90 minute drive of the cottage, including National Trust property Culzean Castle.

This lovely property, beautifully situated on the Firth of Clyde coast, was well worth the journey. Expansive grounds and wonderful views over the water are combined with an impressive stone exterior and a gracious 18th century interior. It's been used in film and TV shows and even features on the back of the Scottish five-pound note.

Magnificent Culzean Castle

The Gate House next to Culzean Castle

The skylight inside Culzean Castle

Whoever does the floral arrangements at Culzean Castle could win prizes!
Every room was decorated with the most beautiful natural arrangements

The Camelia House

Meadow wildflowers inside the walled garden at Culzean Castle

We also tripped over to Dumfries House, not far from Ayr. 

Wowsers. The interior of this house is very impressive, containing one of the world's most extensive collections of Chippendale furniture. It's all the more impressive given that just a few years ago the house was in peril of being lost to a private sale.

Thankfully the 7th Marquess of Bute, unable to maintain the property any longer, instead sold it to the nation for £45 million in 2007. This was made possible by the intervention of a consortium headed by Prince Charles, and the sale price included all the contents. 

The house is now available for private functions and corporate events and you can even stay in the bedrooms - Dumfries House is not a museum.

Dumfries House, which isn't actually in Dumfries!

This temple looks like the traditional stone version but it's actually made of wood

The bridge at Dumfries House

We alternated our activities from day to day - staying home with little Tonks if the weather was going to be wet, and heading out for adventures if it was likely to be less inclement. As regular readers and friends would know, the main reason for us choosing to spend our summer break in Scotland (as we did last year, in The Orkneys) is because you can pretty much rely on it being significantly cooler than London / Surrey.

I'm pleased to report that TMC (The Maree Curse) for once did not follow me, and we had a nice mix of sunny and grey days, with regular rain periods to allow contemplation, reading and watching trashy films on TV. It was also really nice to spend time in a garden for the first time in three years. Our hosts' veggie patch was quite extensive but not terribly well tended; by the time we left, weeds had been removed, broad beans re-tied so they weren't lying down on the ground, and the greenhouse given a good de-cluttering and re-organised.

Windblown trees on the Firth of Clyde coast, Ayrshire

Portencross Castle, which dates from the 14th century
- the site is believed to be the last mainland resting place for many former Scottish kings during the 9th and 11th centuries

Newly mown fields in Ayrshire

Rose Bay Willow Herb was in profusion all over southern Scotland

The township of Largs

Largs Harbour, looking towards the Isles of Great Cumbrae, Bute and Arran

One of several references to a Viking past in Largs
- The Battle of Largs in 1263 between the kingdoms of Norway and Scotland is 
an important part of this area's history

Towards the end of our stay we decided to drive up to Loch Lomond and took one of those tourist boat trips that give you a brief introduction to the area. The temperature on the upper deck of our boat was 'bracing', with a stiff breeze forcing those who came unprepared (in summer clothing) to sit there shivering for the entire 90 minutes, despite the sunny conditions as you see in the photos below.

One of the great houses along the shores of Loch Lomond

Not far away in Helensburgh is a National Trust property designed for publisher Walter Blackie by Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh in 1902, The Hill House. Being mad for the Arts & Crafts movement, of course we visited.

We saw this property in ideal conditions - a brilliantly sunny day which really showed off the house and grounds to their best advantage. It's located, as the name would indicate, on a hill and with lovely views over the Clyde.

Sadly the building has terrible structural problems which have effectively turned it into a money pit, and one of the guides told us the house is usually damp and freezing cold, even in summer - it only ever warms up on sunny days. 

The cause is the type of concrete that was used to construct the exterior walls and chimney heads - it has proven to be inadequate to prevent water penetration. In recent years the National Trust has poured tens of thousands of pounds into remedies. Sadly they have been largely unsuccessful and there continues to be debate about whether to replace the original concrete with a material that looks identical and actually protects the building, or whether to preserve the 'integrity' of the building by continuing to patch it up.

*sigh*

I have suffered the shock and anger of the British in the past when I have suggested that preserving absolutely everything, everywhere, to the detriment of people actually being able to live comfortably, and in an environmentally responsible manner in the 21st century, is ridiculous. Mostly those discussions have been about old-ish residential houses with no particular historical significance. I have argued that refusing to allow people to install double-glazed windows and solar panels (etc) is tantamount to sacrificing the current population and the planet for the sake of a bit of nondescript architectural history, when there are tens of thousands of similar buildings across the country. I mean... WHY?!

The Hill House is, of course, of cultural significance but all the same - why throw good money after bad and never fix the problem? I am confident that the Mackintoshes, were they around today, would be in favour of using modern materials that will not compromise the aesthetic qualities of the house.

The Hill House in Helensburgh

The elegant simplicity of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, at The Hill House

The garden in front of the house - at The Hill House

With our impending house move this trip to Scotland was just the thing we needed - no fixed schedule each day, plenty of fresh air and time to relax. We loved having a cat to fuss over once again, despite her daily offerings of decapitated and disembowelled tiny mice (up to three in a single day, in fact). 


We can now face the upheaval of moving in a calmer frame of mind and look forward to our new life in Farnham. 

A tunnel of green - Ayshire style
(this road was just a few minutes' drive from the cottage)

Until next time,
- Maree xo

Goodbyes and New Beginnings

Kevin and I have been sitting on some news for a little while. We've shared it with a few people but not widely. 

Almshouses in Farnham's elegant Castle Street
(the blue plaque reads 'Erected by Andrew Windsow Esq in 1619 for the habitation and relief
of eight poor, honest and impotent persons')

If you've known us for any length of time you are probably aware that our first stint of living in the UK came in 2008/09, when Kevin took up a temporary role at Frensham Heights School. One of the science teachers had resigned halfway through the academic year, at reasonably short notice, and the school desperately needed a Physics teacher starting in the New Year. The cry for help made its way around the world, including to Canberra, whence Kevin and I eagerly took advantage of this opportunity. This temporary role included boarding duties and, as such, we had modest accommodation on the school grounds.

We were only supposed to be in the UK for six months, however within a couple of months of us arriving at Frensham, Kevin had been offered a permanent job and we ended up staying for the better part of two years before eventually returning to Australia in September 2009, primarily for family reasons. Living on-site as part of the boarding community was at times frustrating, maddening and challenging, but overall it was a dream come true - to live on a rural estate in the English countryside.

Pretty much ever since that time we have been awaiting a vacancy at Frensham. Indeed, the reason Kevin accepted the job offer with Ewell Castle School three years ago was mainly to get us back into the UK so that we would be poised for any opportunities that arose at Frensham, or in a similar environment.

I'm happy to say that Kevin has been offered a job back at Frensham and we are now in the process of packing up to leave Epsom and move back to the Farnham region.

Frensham Heights School

Autumn early morning - the view from Frensham Heights School

It's ironic that just when we are moving away and I am seriously considering finding another job closer to Farnham, my current job has finally reached some equilibrium with one large chunk of work (occupational health) being handed over to somebody who is capable and efficient and really good fun to share an office with. I juggled occupational health in addition to my own demanding role for nine long months.

Because I am no longer killing myself with 12-hours days, for the first time in a very, very long while I am feeling positive about the future instead of dreading the day / week / month to come.

We are sad to be leaving Winchester House. It's one of the nicest places I've ever lived in terms of immediate surroundings (lots of woodland) and peace and quiet. We have had generally nice neighbours - most of whom have been here the entire time that we have - and despite not wanting to live in a London borough it has been incredibly convenient for meeting up with friends and family staying in London, for attending concerts and other events, and of course I now have a nearly 18-month stint of working in central London on my cv. We have really made the most of our proximity to that great metropolis.

The entrance to Winchester House

One of the many miles of woodland paths running through Epsom Common

We will miss our proximity to Epsom Common and Horton Country Park, and the convenience of being able to nip up to London via a 35-minute train journey.

We'll also miss one of our neighbourhood cats, particularly - the one that looks like they ran out of parts for a white cat, so they rummaged around in the oddments box, found a fluffy dark tail and thought, That'll do... 

But both of us are thrilled to be returning to the area where we have many good friends, and which has so many things to recommend it - deep Surrey countryside with woods, lakes, hills and wildlife. And Farnham itself, surely one of England's nicest Georgian market towns with its beautiful, wide Castle Street (leading up to Farnham Castle and the gigantic Farnham Park behind), independent boutiques and eateries, and arts venues (The Maltings, New Ashridge Gallery etc).

One of the cobbled laneways in Farnham's town centre

Farnham has a plethora of beautiful Georgian buildings
- just look at that pediment! 

The first time we lived in the UK I was very conscious of being a 'stranger in a strange land'. Despite the familiarity of British culture, language, even driving on the same side of the road, I felt like I walked around with a big neon sign above my head, saying FOREIGNER. I never really felt like I had a right to be here.

Certain things really drove me crazy - the dreadful traffic, the hordes of people everywhere (no escape from them, it seemed - certainly not here in the south-east), the diabolically bad coffee, the fact that when you order a cup of tea they automatically put MILK in it - yerrrrrkkkk!

Second time around I am far more relaxed, and I suppose just knowing what to expect is a large part of that. 

The traffic is still insane, there are still way too many people, the coffee has improved somewhat. They still put milk in your tea without asking you - but we have learned to say 'BLACK tea please - no milk!' when ordering. 

I will never get over the Nanny State law that means you can't run a hairdryer in the bathroom (because lord knows, Australians, Americans, Canadians, Asians etc are electrocuted in their thousands every day because they live in uncivilised countries where citizens are unprotected by adequate safety legislation...). 

I will always be annoyed by the propensity of restaurants, pubs and caterers to offer vegetarians nothing but cheese or other forms of dairy. But overall I am now inured to the little foibles of my adopted homeland.

I'm thinking about carrying a supply of these signs
and awarding them to worthy eating establishments

England is indeed feeling more and more like home, as the things that tie me to Australia diminish. Of course there will always be family and friends to miss. Having close friend Lesley in this country for six weeks recently was wonderful. Although we only spent time together at the beginning and end of her time here, somehow just knowing she was in the country was a comfort. It was a wrench when she left to return to Australia.

However my entire life I have felt I did not really belong in Australia - I forever yearned to be elsewhere, definitely somewhere colder and less sunny. Although the UK has its frustrations I am far happier here. Even during those rare periods where the summer temperatures rival those back in Australia, there is a softer edge to the light and the comfort of knowing that the agony will be reasonably short-lived. 


Anybody who knows me personally has probably heard me rant and rave about things that I didn't like about Australia, and still don't. I realise I am incredibly lucky to have been born into a wealthy, multicultural country with many freedoms, with lots of space and numerous other positives. Australia is the place that formed me as a person. I am amazingly fortunate that I will always have the option of returning to the country of my birth. 

Despite those significant factors, at this time I can't imagine myself back in the Great Southern Land. I can't conceive that I will ever feel the great joy in my surroundings that I feel most days here. 

On my walks I still find myself in a sense of wonder - I really live here! 

These centuries-old oak trees are mine to sit beneath, like Orlando as he/she travelled through centuries switching genders (here is a great review of this, my second favourite novel of all time). In fact, I have sat under the very trees that likely sheltered Orlando according that wonderful, magical novel (see my Knole post from last year). 


Those ancient castles, houses and gardens are there for me to wander around whenever I choose.  

Staircase inside Knole House

Fallow deer beneath one of Knole's ancient trees

It's a strongly emotional need for me to walk streets and visit buildings that have seen centuries of life before me. There are only so many times you can visit the comparatively small number of historic buildings in Australia; European civilisation is barely a couple of hundred years old there. Here in the UK and in Europe there are hundreds of thousands of great houses, castles, cottages and inns to explore. 

When I enter an old building I take in everything - the windows, the ceilings, the door handles, even the hinges on the doors. I engage so strongly with the sense of being connected to the past.

Chandelier in the Bath Assembly Rooms

Beautiful, romantic Scotney Castle in Kent

From here, if I feel like going to France I can scoot over by plane, train, automobile or boat. I can be sitting in my cousin's fjord-side home in Norway in a matter of hours. I can even be drinking frozen margaritas with Nancy in Dallas inside of half a day.

And before some of you shout me down with cries of how incredible Aboriginal culture is - one of the oldest civilisations in the world - unfortunately I have never engaged with it on any level. I appreciate that it's unique, and terribly special, but for all the connection I feel with Aboriginal culture, it might as well originate from outer space (no 'Dreamtime' pun intended!). 

There is such a lot to see in the world, and it can't easily be done from the far end of the southern hemisphere, unless you have limitless funds and endless time at your disposal. I have neither of those things, so for now this is where I choose to be.

Our new home in Farnham, from late August

In the past nine years we have moved house four times (this move will be our fifth), in two countries, and I've had eight long(ish) term jobs, plus four or five temporary ones. I suppose that means I am adventurous. Or maybe crazy.

Until next time,

- Maree  xo

Surrey summer in full swing (well, Hampshire actually)

West Green House Garden

*Ugh*

To me, it already feels like we have had a long summer and I am desperate for autumn to be on its way. That's unfortunate, with half of July and all of August yet to come. I tell you, if I hear an English person complain that there's been 'no summer' I will be tempted to slap them.

However, an English summer does bring some positive aspects. There are festivals galore, summer fairs, and oh my goodness - the gardens!

The rose-covered pergola at Polesden Lacey

Shakespeare recital in the rose garden at Polesden Lacey

Look at the height of that cow parsley
- it's like Day of the Triffids!

The long summer days and evenings make for a more leisurely pace. There's no need to hurry home from work and shovel down some dinner in time to race out for an evening walk before dark; it's light until 10pm for many weeks at summer's peak.

In the past couple of months I've met up with various local friends for walks and coffees in numerous beautiful locations, and Kevin and I have enjoyed our usual evening strolls in nearby Epsom Common and Horton Country Park.

This time of year also brings visits from Australian friends and family, and good friend Lesley has just returned home after six weeks exploring gardens, historic houses, antiques stores and churches whilst undertaking Trusted Housesitter assignments in wide-ranging locations. Lesley has had no problem occupying every single day of that period, such is the bounty of attractions available in this country - and in fact she has barely scratched the surface!

I was fortunate enough to join Lesley on a couple of her jaunts, and on her last full day in the UK we met at West Green House Garden in Hartley Wintney, just over the border in Hampshire; about an hour's drive for each of us. 

Outside the café building at West Green House Garden

The pleached hornbeam walk at West Green House Garden

West Green House

This wonderful small property technically belongs to the National Trust, however since the early 1990s it has been leased to renowned Australian garden designer, Marylyn Abbott, whose Kennerton Green garden in Mittagong, New South Wales (about an hour from Sydney) was Australia's most visited garden.

The history of this property is quite dramatic. Prior to Marylyn Abbott taking over the lease, the former tenant Lord Alistair McAlpine was targeted by the IRA who detonated a bomb in the forecourt of the house. The house was badly damaged and the National Trust had to consider demolishing the building. Happily, they committed to undertaking the structural and external repairs, and began the search for a tenant who would complete the internal works, as well as restoring the gardens.

With Lesley having visited Kennerton Green years ago it was a fitting final stop on her garden tour. What a beautiful, tranquil place, with superbly designed plantings, and lots of interest in the form of walls, gates, bridges and meandering paths. It also has the most lovely cafe with excellent coffee - as you would expect from an expatriate Aussie!

The Moon Gate at West Green House Garden

The café at West Green House Garden

Inside the café

Teapot light fixtures in the café

Function area inside the greenhouse at West Green House Garden

Chandelier inside the greenhouse

Stacked gilt chairs add a dash of glamour to the greenhouse 

The Chicken Palace - surely England's most luxurious hen accommodation,
complete with chinoiserie wallpaper and porcelain feed dishes!

Blue temptations in the gift shop

Having explored West Green House Garden for a couple of hours, we drove on to a local pub. My TripAdvisor research once again proved invaluable - I had selected The Mill House in Odiham on the basis of its lovely setting and the menu published on its website. This appeared to be one of those rare venues in England that offers an alternative to wads of cheese as a vegetarian option. Bonus points go to The Mill House for almost being a goat's cheese free zone (they do include goat's cheese on their cheese platter, which I feel is acceptable).

Our lunch venue - The Mill in Odiham, near Hook

Well, blimey, this is one to file away for future reference. What a gorgeous spot, inside and out. There is a vast amount of outdoor seating overlooking the lake, and the interior is all oak beams, wonky floors and leaded windows, it being a Grade II listed watermill.

Very friendly staff was complemented by a great menu with a number of great options for me. I didn't have high hopes when I asked whether the Roast Squash and Red Lentil Tart contained dairy; I was fully expecting the answer to be 'Yes, it's got creme fraiche / yoghurt / soft cheese / ricotta' .... or indeed any combination of several of these items. Experience has taught me to be cynical in this regard. 

Well, smack my ass and call me Judy - no dairy! *winning*

We both enjoyed our food tremendously and I'd happily return.

So for the moment I am coping with summer, despite a couple of week-long periods where we had daily maximum temperatures between 28-35ºC.

Soon Kevin and I will be heading up to Scotland to undertake a Trusted Housesitters assignment for a couple of weeks, and I am hopeful that Scotland will come through with its usual inclement weather - at the very least, we'd have to be very unlucky for it not to be cooler. Fingers crossed.

Soon there will be blackberries to gather - Autumn on the way!

Until next time,
- Maree  xo