Box Hill

July 28th, 2010

A mid-week day in Surrey today, exploring Nik’s haunts from his childhood. Coincidentally, as Ash and Roman are in the same county, it was the perfect opportunity for a visit to them, too, especially as it dawned on us that we hadn’t seen them since last September. Where do the days, weeks and months go? That was all later, though, for the first stop of the day was Sidcup, to call in on Sal, and, as it turned out, a very excited William. Cupcakes, coffee, bedroom tours and football later (you must be bad at kick-abouts when a three-year-old asks you ‘What was that?’) we said our farewells and were on the road again to darkest deepest Surrey.

Calling in at Leatherhead on the way to Box Hill, I was expecting a grand spa-like town – though for no known reason – and what greeted us was disappointing. Maybe grand in its day, the drive through another Home Countries town, Dorking, painted a far prettier picture. There was no time for stopping, though, as our mid-afernoon rendezvous with Ash at the 564ft summit of Box Hill was but a short time away. Now owned by the National Trust, the North Downs beauty spot is named after the box trees which grow on its southern and western sides and overlooks Dorking to the south-west. And overlook it does, with spectacular views of Devil’s Dyke on the far distance.

A former childhood playground of Nik and Sal’s from over 25 years ago, a labyrinth of pathways and trails weave their way around the 490-hectare site. There’s even an old fort, built in the late 1890s as one of a number of buildings with the aim to protect London from invasion from continental Europe. We weren’t there for that, though; we were treasure-hunting with the GPS, looking for geocaches. We were lucky and found four (including one in the old fort), a record compared to the last time we were rummaging around in the undergrowth not far from home and only found one.

As afternoon turned into early evening, it was back to Ash’s for tea and to wait for Roman to return from work. We also met the very pretty and friendly cat from next door, who wasted no time in introducing herself and her tummy full of babies. A ‘showgirl’ cat if ever there was one, with a big fluffy tail, long fur, and a very affectionate nature, she regularly wanders into flats where she doesn’t live, as her owner seems to have more than her fair share of feline company.

It wasn’t long before three became four, though, and we all headed out to Nando’s in Epsom for spicy chicken and bean burgers and endless drink refills. By the time we’d finished, the morning visit to Sal’s had seemed like a long time ago, so we bid our friends goodbye and headed home, avoiding the 10-mile tailbacks on the M25, due to the earlier minibus accident which had closed the other side of the carriageway since four that afternoon.

The Art Café, Colchester

July 26th, 2010

We’re holidaying at home this week (or to use the new hateful marketing buzzword of the moment, having a ‘stay-cation’, pfth). And although I had a little bit of tidying up of work to do this morning, once that was done, we buzzed up to Colchester for the afternoon. In our opinion, the oldest Roman recorded town in England – and the capital of Roman Britain – is one of the best towns in our home county of Essex, and offers much for sightseers and shoppers alike. With alleys off the main thoroughfares inhabited by smaller, more independent shops, in many ways it’s similar to Brighton or Norwich.

This afternoon it also reminded me very much of that other East Anglian jewel, Cambridge. Tucked away, hidden behind railings opposite one of the town’s churches, is the Art Café, and its almost holy location played quite a major part in our town-city comparison. The small eatery-cum-gallery is ensconced by buildings at either side, and the pretty little courtyard with stone walls and green umbrellas provide a very pleasant and cosy atmosphere, even under a dull, grey sky. We can’t vouch for the interior, but eating our scones and drinking our hot drinks outside, we really could have been down a meandering alley in the East Anglian city of spires some 60 miles away.

And what delights those scones and hot drinks were. Rich and buttery, the scones were perfectly made, and my white hot chocolate (places that do this are very few and far between) was equally sumptuous. Opened in 2007, the Art Café in Trinity Street feeds off a parent establishment on Mersea Island – also in Essex – and both blend homemade food and selling art to a, well, fine art. Started by James and Maggie Weaver as places to combine their love of food and art, both Art Cafés feature small exhibitions by local artists. The Art Café is open six days a week in Colchester, serving breakfast from 9 until 11am, lunch from 11am until 3pm, and afternoon teas from 3 until 5pm.

Buttsbury

July 25th, 2010

Walking seems to have fallen by the wayside for us a bit recently, and we’ve been off the beaten tracks for a proper stroll for quite some time. Admittedly, there has been the odd one or two, but they’ve all been fairly short in nature and more of a stroll rather than a good tramping across the fields kind of a walk. So, this afternoon, after another sunny and sociable BBQ lunch in Galleywood, we put that right, drove the handful of miles to Ingtatestone, and walked the 2.5 miles through the countryside, past Ingatestone Hall to nearby Buttsbury.

It’s a route that Nik used to take regularly with an old school friend, and that in itself tells you how long ago it is since he last did it. And although the sun wasn’t really hanging in the sky and it was overcast, it still made for a pleasant and long enough walk, even though we thought we might have gotten caught out with a rain shower at one point. With fields of brown and dead-looking peas drying (we’ve since found out the Essex farmers are growing wasabi peas for export to Japan), the air was full of the sound of pods popping.

Crossing the little concrete bridge where the two school friends used to sit and dangle their legs over the edge, we could see the little church serving Buttsbury on the outskirts of the village. With an interior not much larger than a classroom, St Mary’s Church is not only old, but sweet with it. A mixture of brick, flint, tile and timber, the small, slatted bell tower looks out across the now combined fields, the same fields through which we tramped our way back to the car. With two dog walkers and two dogs (one a little more excitable than I’d have liked), we even had some canine company for part of the stroll back.

An evening walk to Broomfield

July 22nd, 2010

We’ve not taken advantage of the summer enough. So last night, we headed out to sit in the pub garden just before eight and walked to Broomfield, just north of Chelmsford proper. Strolling through the fields of corn, with a gentle evening breeze and the reluctant setting sun glinting through the trees, it was all rather idyllic and reminded us that we should make hay while the sun shines (pardon the pun), and take any outside opportunities while we can. It could be a long winter.

Prisoner Cell Block H(en house)



July 21st, 2010

It’s chicken prison, or at least it was. Due to increasing demands on our egg supplies, we finally relented on 10 July and collected three more chickens from Hens4Homes. Rhode Island Rangers, the same as the most recent three we bought from Kirsty, they’ve not had an easy time settling in. We’re sure they’re even smaller than the last three additions to the coop, and with five old hens to make friends with, our new 17-week old girls have had a tough time of it.

Constantly pecked when they first arrived, they kept retreating to the new high perch that Nik had made for the coop the week before. High above the old chickens they were safe, not least because the elder chooks hadn’t really worked out what the tall perch was for. So, when that was taken away, the new girls jumped on the middle perch, again thinking they were away from any viscious beaks. Not so, as the more mature hens already used that branch to sit on, and no way were they giving that up.

So, drastic measures were called for. Raspberry netting in the middle of the chicken coop transformed the enclosure into chicken prison or a sort of Big Brother rich house, poor house arrangement. It was essential, though; it was the only way the new trio could get any respite. Putting the disused cat kennel in the corner of the new birds’ enclosure helped a little, too, as they could retreat from the hot daytime sun with no fear of older chicken reprisals.

But, it couldn’t last forever. With Margot, Gerry, Gabby and pals rebounding off the netting like space hoppers hitting a forcefield, it had to go. Beaks were getting tangled, chickens were squawking and the situation just wasn’t working as much as we’d hoped. We were also in danger of putting off the inevitable flock integration. But, since removing the netting, things have gotten worse, with the new birds spending most of their time in the Eglu or on the steps to the Eglu when we forcibly – and maybe cruelly – closed the door. But, it could be a case of being cruel to be kind.

Nursing our new three in the evening by closing all the older hens in with the exception of Gabby – she seems to at least want to make friends – so that they can eat and drink in peace and quiet seems to be helping them, although one of them does have a blue face, which we can only think is bruising from the pecking. It seems to be, with good reason, absolutely terrified, but simply has to fight back at some point. But, the week started on a positive note, as at least one of the new Rhodies has the guts to steal food from the older ones’ mouths, while all eight can stand in the same space now and not get too bothered. It’s a long way from perfect yet, but I think we just might have turned the corner.