Finally in Farnham

Georgian doorway in Downing Street

Well, here we are.

I am so, so happy to once again be living in beautiful Farnham.

Row of pretty cottages adjacent to Castle Street

The Bishop's Palace at Farnham Castle

Another shot of The Bishop's Palace

Yes, folks - Farnham has a store dedicated solely to canine accoutrements.
Barbour accoutrements, no less.
It's that kind of town

Every day I reflect on how wonderful it is to be back here. The difference is evident in many things, but most particularly in the sense of no longer being on the fringe of London; that warm, familiar feeling of being back in the genuine Surrey - a place where on my walks the people I meet are properly attired in wellies and quilted jackets, and who nod to you or say 'Good morning' as you pass. 

More canine - and human - accessories at the Farnham branch
of UK retail institution, Orvis

Those of you still able to exercise your high school French
will appreciate the wit of this little garden gate sign, from a house on Castle Street

The Nelson Arms in Castle Street - operating as a tavern since the 16th century

The Wheatsheaf - one of our locals.
It's a very upmarket gastropub

One of Farnham's beautiful, historic lanes
- this is just a couple of minutes' walk from our place

Castle Street's renowned Alms Houses, dating from 1620
- 'for the habitation and relief of eight poor honest and impotent persons'

Our move from Epsom to Farnham was relatively straightforward with one exception. Try as they might, our removalists simply could not get our beloved deep-seated, incredibly comfortable three-seater sofa into the apartment. They got it up the stairs to the first floor, at which point they had to get it through a fire door entry into a small landing, and turn a corner into our place. Doors were removed, chunks were taken out of walls in the attempt. For the want of an extra 3cm of space, the attempt was eventually abandoned.

What to do with a large sofa when you don't have a garage or anywhere else to store it?

Thank goodness for the lockable bike storage area, where we had to temporarily place our sofa on its end, pending removal. I hurriedly placed the item on Facebook Marketplace and Gumtree at a ridiculous price - we needed to move this thing, as we were already in contravention of our new complex's rules (not a great start on day one!). 

Pleasingly, the people of the UK know an absolute bargain when they see one. There was immediately a lot of interest and the first person to enquire was the one to turn up two days later - having driven all the way from Worthing, near Brighton - and happily cart it away. I tried to disregard the gloating glint in her eye.

Then began the search for a new sofa which involved many hours of internet research, a second visit to IKEA Croydon within a week (otherwise known as 'Slow Death By Shrieking Children'), and several hours visiting the nearby gigantic furniture stores on Purley Way. I'm picky; our recently departed sofa had served us well for 12 years but still looked brand new because I did my research, was willing to pay for quality (Warwick fabric), and we took care of it. I don't make large purchases lightly. 

In the end, surprisingly, we went with an IKEA sofa - the Stocksund. As we really don't know where we'll be living in 12 months' time we decided to go with a less expensive item... just in case it doesn't suit the next abode and we have to get rid of it.

A view of tree-lined Beavers Road from our living room

The shared courtyard area of our complex.
Just out of shot, up to the right, is a gazebo with a seating area

Literally just across the street and down a few metres
- gorgeous old cottages in Beavers Road

The apartment is very comfortable and modern, being only about seven years old. It doesn't quite have the Victorian grandeur of Winchester House's soaring ceilings and double-height sash windows, however we are revelling in the modern conveniences we were previously lacking. For the first time in our lives we have an ensuite, and both bathrooms have *concealed cisterns* - oh, the joy! Best of all, after three years of washing up by hand, we once again have a dishwasher.

A housewarming gift from a friend - 1kg of fabulous Angelucci 'Mokital' coffee.
Her Italian grandfather founded the company in Soho in 1929

After the trials of the move we were welcomed back to the area by friends with drinks at The Holly Bush in Frensham, followed by an excellent Thai meal at Thai Lotusland in Farnham.

Farnham has become even more lovely since we last lived in the area (2008-09), with many new independent boutiques, restaurants and cafés, including - OH. MY. GOD. - one that serves a long black. Only Antipodeans will appreciate how exciting that is. 

Kevin enjoying a long black and some orange polenta cake at Krema

I cannot tell you how disproportionately comforting it is to know that I can enter a coffee establishment in my own town and not have to go through the agony of attempting to get a decent black coffee. Ordering an Americano is always disappointing - the cups are too big, meaning there's too much water added, and even when I ask for an extra shot ('That's THREE shots, Madam - are you sure?!') it somehow still ends up weak. It's also almost always too hot, they pour the water on top of the espresso (as opposed to putting the water in first, and then the double-shot of espresso - as in a long black) and almost without exception it's disappointing. Usually I just order a double espresso but really I'm wanting something with a bit more volume than that... hence the LONG BLACK - I wish the rest of the world would adopt this Australian / New Zealand tradition.

The name of the café is Krema, by the way. The owner noticed our Aussie accents and therefore understood we were two people who probably knew about coffee. Thus ensued an 'enthusiastic discussion' (ie I wanted to throw my arms about his neck and kiss him) about this being the only café in Christendom - well, in Surrey at least - that had the correct size cups for a long black. He ended up sending over a free sample of their cold brew, which has been in vogue amongst the world's serious coffee community for a couple of years now, but which I've never really been tempted to try. I still wouldn't generally order it, but I certainly will consider doing so on a hot day when I'm desperate for a caffeine hit but can't face a hot drink.

Krema's cold filtered coffee

The week after landing back in Farnham we attended annual welcome drinks at the Headmaster's residence at Frensham Heights. Kevin and I have both been struck by how welcoming everyone is - particularly those people we knew last time we were part of the Frensham community, but also new faces. When Kevin was undergoing separation anxiety about leaving Ewell Castle School after three years, I tried to remind him just how different Frensham is, and reassure him that within five minutes he'd be feeling right at home. I don't think he was convinced, but now that we're here we both are experiencing a warm, fuzzy feeling to be back amongst good friends and in this beautiful area.

He is particularly enjoying the superior cuisine of Frensham, which leaves Ewell Castle and every other school in which Kevin's ever worked, in the shade. He delightedly showed me the week's menu during his first week. Every day there are at least three vegan hot dishes, plus a couple of vegetarian ones, and that's not even taking into account the world-class salads which on any given day will contain puy lentils, chick peas, sundried tomatoes, roasted peppers.... *argh*  Maybe I'll have to apply for a job in the Frensham office.

Our return was perfectly timed to take advantage of Heritage Open Days, which is a UK-wide programme of historic buildings that open to the public for just a few days each year, and which we enjoyed very much back in 2009.

Waverley House, opposite the ruins of Waverley Abbey
- we took a tour of the house as part of Heritage Open Days

Of course there's one significant downside to being back over this side of Surrey - my commute to work. *groan* I was dreading it, and that dread has been fully justified.

From Winchester House, work was an easy 20-minute drive to Tadworth, along mostly leafy quiet streets and often past Epsom Downs with its amazing views all the way to London. As I work full-time hours compressed into four days (giving me Fridays off), I used to leave home just after 7.00am and be unlocking my office just before 7.30am.

I now leave home at 6.15am - yes, you read that correctly - in order to reach Tadworth by about 7.00am, with the aim of perhaps leaving around 4.00pm. As I discovered the other day, if I can't get away by then it's pointless getting in the car before at least 5.30pm. Last Tuesday I left the office just before 4.30pm and then spent one hour and 35 minutes travelling to Farnham - 35 of those minutes were spent in first gear, on a 4-mile crawl past Guildford. Excruciating.

But then I arrive back in Farnham and everything seems better.

And even the morning journey has moments of pleasure - speeding along The Hog's Back at dawn and watching the morning mists roll upwards from the valley below. On clear mornings, the views stretch as far as London to the north, and to Hindhead and The Devil's Punchbowl to the south. Jane Austen mentioned The Hog's Back in one of her letters and it's a warming feeling to know she travelled along this same route a couple of centuries ago.

Beautiful Guildford is only 15-20 minutes' drive from Farnham, across The Hog's Back.
Its cobbled high street is one of the most exclusive shopping areas in the UK,
outside of London

Abbot's Hospital Alms House, Guildford High Street

Farnham has dozens of winding little cobbled lanes, cute cottages, gorgeous Georgian houses - particularly on Castle Street which is renowned as one of the best preserved Georgian streets in Britain. It truly is superb, sweeping upwards from the town and crowned at the top of the hill by Farnham Castle.

Judging by the glimpses afforded through front windows, all the houses seem to be occupied by people who read voraciously and grow orchids, with interesting taste in pottery and wing chairs. There are endless cosy pubs that we are gradually visiting and ticking off the list. 

The Hop Blossom, one of Farnham's many welcoming pubs

Old Cemetery Lodge, at Farnham Cemetery

McDonald's Alms Houses, a couple of minutes' walk from the apartment

Gainsborough Cottage, Upper Church Lane

The chapel at Farnham Cemetery

The magnificent front entry to Castle Hill House

Just 5 minutes from Farnham is The Packhouse,
a fabulous antiques and homewares emporium

Although we are in the middle of the town, our street is very quiet except for when the infants' school next door lets out and during break times. We have shops, restaurants, galleries and pubs within a couple of minutes' walk.

And yet a short stroll behind our street leads us into beautiful countryside. A network of almost secret paths and bridleways lead directly into farmland, and also to the magnificent and extensive Farnham Park. Although this it not quite the deep rural environment of Frensham, I find myself quite content with these country environs - it will take me months to explore them properly, and thus far I have found that there are many working farms as well as livery stables within ten minutes' ramble from the apartment. On a recent 45-minute reconnaisance I only met one dog walker and two mountain bikers. Certainly there is the same profusion of potholes, as befits country lanes across the county. 

Naturally my jaunts involve a large degree of wistful envy directed at the People With Money who are able to afford the cottages and larger houses in the area. Dare we dream that we could join their ranks one day?

View across Farnham from the farmland behind our street,
with the beautiful tower of St Andrew's Church in the background

The vibrant racemes of the Leycesteria Formosa (that's Himalayan Honeysuckle to you)
- also known as Pheasant Berry.
Honestly, you couldn't dream up something like this, could you? Amazing!
[with thanks to my font of all botanical knowledge, Lesley Williams]

Farmland behind our street

I feel so fortunate that we've returned to Farnham just as my favourite time of year - Autumn - is starting.

The streets and fields are full of this season's bounty. The last of the blackberry - plump, black, soft, juicy and sweet; there's no longer the danger of striking one that promises sweetness, but instead rewards your mouth with unbelievable tartness. And then there are all the other shrubs and trees bearing their fruit - everywhere orange, yellow, red, blue, black berries in profusion. The last of the summer blooms are valiantly holding on, before the Autumn winds and rain sweep them away. 

The blackberries are coming to an end

My local 'tunnel of green' - path from the farmland behind our street

This Orange Pyracantha hedging is popular along Farnham's streets

The start of Autumn also brings geese flying in formation as they hurry away from the approaching colder seasons. I suppose there must have been migrating geese in Epsom and London but I confess I was never aware of them. There is something beautiful and magical in their plaintive honking as they bid us farewell. 

Geese heading south, above the farmland behind our street

My only regret is that my mother did not live to share this with me. As a child, as a teenager, as an adult, she and I often watched movies or television programmes and looked enviously, longingly at the English countryside. Of course, had she lived, perhaps we would never have taken the step to move so far away from her. But that doesn't stop me wishing that she was here to enjoy this with me, to drink in the splendour of the English countryside, to take the long rambles, to appreciate everything that this beautiful place has to offer.

A glass of Prosecco at Zizzi to celebrate our first night in Farnham

Cobbled Lower Church Lane, leading to St Andrew's Church

Back in Farnham.

This is the happiest I've been in years.

Until next time,
- Maree xo

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