Word Wenches

Punches and Pugilists—Random Fcts on Regency Boxing

Andrea here, offering yet another down-the-rabbit-hole research discovery today. I love research, as part of the fun is discovering things you didn’t know you wanted to know! Now, I am not a bellicose person, so I’m not at all interested in an actual boxing match. But as I needed to know a few specifics about ‘pugilism’ for a WIP scene, I had to research a few basic things.

And voila! Down the rabbit hole! Now, in the spirit of full disclosure, I find the history of just about anything fascinating on an intellectual level, and as I happen to like sports (the other Wenches have dubbed me the ‘Wench Jock’) I actually found myself very interested in the resources I found. One of the most intriguing is “Fighting Words," an online exhibit from the Hesburgh Libraries at the University of Notre Dame, from which I have cheerful poached some of the following information.

The Grand Tour

Andrea here, thinking about the joys of traveling, and how much I have missed the heady experience of of being inspired by visiting new places—or cherished favorite spots that hold a place in my heart. As the world continues to open up, it feels like it’s possible to venture far from home, and I'm busy plotting where to go . . .

As you’ve probably noted, a number of the Wenches have been traveling hither and yon. Research beckons! (That’s always a good excuse for us to pack our bags!) But along with exploring specific sites for our books, it's also just  good to get the general creative juices flowing by being in a foreign place and seeing the world from a different perspective.

And human nature being human nature, this desire to experience the world beyond one’s own familiar turf is nothing new in history. In the Georgian and Regency era, the "Grand Tour" was a rite of passage for the beau monde.

All that glitters ...

… isn’t gold – but sometimes it IS!

Christina here. Next week my latest book will be released and the idea for this story was sparked by the Galloway Hoard, a magnificent treasure found in Scotland in 2014. As soon as I heard about it, I was fascinated. I could only imagine how amazing it must feel to discover something like that. Despite having bought myself a metal detector a few years ago, I’ve never found anything other than a few rusty nails and a piece of iron pipe, so I decided I would have to fulfil this dream in my imagination instead. Add to this the fact that the hoard was of Viking origin and it seemed like serendipity! That’s when Hidden in the Mists started to take shape in my mind.

The hoard was probably buried around 900 AD and consists of various gold and silver items, as well as other more ordinary things. It’s one of the most incredible treasures ever found in Scotland and the richest one from the Viking age. I read all the articles about it when it was first revealed and couldn’t wait for it to go on display. That took a while as obviously the items had to be conserved and assessed first. Eventually, I was fortunate enough to see it in person, and I was enthralled by the many precious objects. My absolute favourite was a little gold pin in the shape of a bird which I had already used in another story, Whispers of the Runes. The hero of that book is a silversmith/jeweller and I had him make a pin just like this. I saw it as a bird of prey or a raven judging by its curved beak, but archaeologists felt it more resembled a flamingo. Most probably it’s a fantasy bird but either way, I just love how intricate it is, despite being so small!

Celebrating Friendships!

Nicola here. Today I’m celebrating the power of friendship as yesterday was International Friendship Day. The value of friendship has been recognised since people first walked the earth – and it’s pretty strong between some animals too and between humans and animals. Greek philosopher Herodotus wrote “Of all possessions, a friend is the most precious.” More recently, the lyrics of the song is the Toy Story movie say “We stick together and can see it through, ‘Cause you've got a friend in me.”

What is friendship, really? A dictionary definition calls it “a state of mutual trust and support” but it’s so much more complicated than that sounds. Some of us are lucky enough to have friends we have known since childhood, others from school or college. I’m part of a group of college friends who first came together almost 40 years ago and we still meet up twice a year as a group. It's lovely to have such enduring relationships with people I know so well and feel I can pick up with so easily. Then there are the other friends we make at different stages of our lives. You don’t even have to see each other that much, though when you do, it’s special. The Wenches are an amazing group of friends scattered across three continents; we don’t get the chance to see each other much but we’re so supportive of each other through the thick and thin of writing and life. In fact, being an author is a wonderful way to meet friends across the world, through readers’ and writers’ groups.

A Very Brief History of Buttons

Pat here:

I’m still digging around in research for my current, very tentative, historical idea. I’m thinking the village I talked about last time has lost its inhabitants to industries which pay better than farming small plots. And I’m thinking whatever cottage industry once paid women has also died, so young people packed up and left, and there’s no one left.

Pomp, Pageantry—and Skullduggery!

Andrea here, finding it hard to believe it’s August! The summer seems to have whizzed by like a Congreve rocket . . .

Now, speaking of Sir William Congreve’s rockets, I’ve decided to start the countdown to the September 27th release of MURDER ON THE SERPENTINE BRIDGE, my new Wrexford & Sloane mystery, by giving you a teaser of the circumstances in which the mystery takes place. Now, there are times when an author gets extraordinarily lucky and history provides a setting for a mystery more perfect than any writer would dare to imagine!

During June of 1814, Britain threw a grand party in London to celebrate the end of nearly twenty years of war against France. It brought together a host of royals and dignitaries from the Allied victors—including Tsar Alexander I, King Frederick William III of Prussia. Prince Metternich and Field Marshal Blücher—for a spectacular fortnight of sumptuous parties, gala outdoor entertainments, horses races at Royal Ascot and a sojourn to Oxford for a banquet and a special awards ceremony, all to celebrate the defeat of Napoleon and his exile to the isle of Elba.

Ironing It Out!

Nicola here and today I am tackling the ironing, literally in fact as a bout of Covid followed by a trip away has meant that I am a bit behind on all my chores. I know there are people who enjoy ironing, who even find it therapeutic, but I am not one of them. I don’t like it at all. But I do like the result – nicely pressed clothes and smooth bed linen, so that presents me with a bit of a dilemma.

Smoothing clothes to get rid of creases and make them look – and feel – nicer is apparently an ancient pastime. Before the Chinese used metal to press cloth over a thousand years ago, people had been using heated rocks to flatten animal hides for millennia. Materials such as stone, wood and glass had been used as well, but the first “iron” appeared in the Middle Ages. There were a number of issues associated with early irons such as not being able to regulate their heat on an open fire, getting soot and dirt on the clothes and the iron cooling down rapidly and needing to be frequently re-heated. This does remind me a little of my steam iron which has a habit of spitting chalky water on my clothes unexpectedly when I am trying to press them.

Dressing Up

Christina here. This past weekend Wench Nicola and I have been attending the UK’s Romantic Novelists’ Association’s annual conference. It was held in Telford this year and the day before we took part in a special meet-the-author event at the local library. There were twelve of us, all authors of historical romance, fantasy, timeslip, time travel, sagas or alternative history stories. And some of us decided to attend the event dressed in a costume befitting the historical eras we were writing about to make it more fun. For me that meant a Viking outfit of course, and I’d made part of it myself.

As a little girl, I loved to play dress-up and I still do. If anyone says they’re having a masquerade or costume party of any kind, I’m in. So whenever there is a chance to dress up in historical costume to do with my books, I get very excited. During the pandemic I decided to put together a Viking outfit on the off-chance I would ever get to do author events again and I’m very glad now that I did. I could have taken the easy way out and just bought one online, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, I started to look at how I could do some of it myself. It was great research, if nothing else, as some of my heroines have to make their own clothes.

How Many Books Is Too Many Books?

Nicola here, and today I'm asking the provocative question "how many books is too many books"? And as a follow up to that: "What system do you use to categorise your bookshelves?" You see, I need help and advice. The time has finally come to sort out my “library.” This is rather a grand term for a muddled collection of books on shelves, in boxes and in stacks on the floor all over the house with only a notional system of what is where. For years I’ve been saying I need some sort of cataloguing system, yet each time I sit down with my books to try to categorise them, I either get distracted into reading something I had forgotten was there or I am so overwhelmed by the hugeness of the task that I retreat and close the door on the mess. There are obvious downsides to this, most annoyingly the fact that I can’t find half the books I know are there and when I need them for research – or to re-read a favourite novel – I’ll spend ages huffing around looking for them. Also, I have been known on more than one occasion to buy multiple copies of things just because I didn’t realise/remember they were already in my collection. So a neatly-ordered bookshelf is crucial.

Researching English Villages

I’m toying with an idea for a historical romance and haven’t quite decided on what era or area my characters and their situation might fit into. The idea requires a rather large manor house or even a sprawling aristocratic estate. I’m rather fond of houses, so the more house, the merrier for me. If it’s deteriorating, even better—so much story material there!

I’d like the house to be relatively isolated, but it’s not a self-supporting estate, so I need some sort of small village nearby. People need to get out of the house occasionally! So I started by digging around in English villages to see where such a place might have existed in the 18^th or 19^th centuries. I don’t want to go further back than that.

The Butterfly Effect

Nicola here, talking about insects (as you do!). I’ve got to admit that I’m not a big fan of insects, especially if they sting or bite, or even if they don’t. I quite like a ladybird (ladybug) and I make an exception for butterflies and moths, and obviously I appreciate honey (thank you, bees.) But I’m not naturally drawn to beetles or other insects. (I also dislike spiders, but in the course of writing this blog piece I’ve discovered they aren’t insects but arachnids.)

Last week, however, we were away for the few days on the trail of one of the most beautiful and scarce insects in Britain. Fortunately it is a butterfly, the swallowtail. Whilst there are 550 species of the swallowtail family in the world, we only get one in Britain and then only in one relatively small area, the Norfolk Broads in the east of the country. So off we went to find them. (The photos are all by my husband who is a massive butterfly fan as well as a great photographer).

Initially we had planned to hire a small boat and cruise the Broads in search of these elusive but beautiful creatures. However I have a love hate relationship with boats and fell in on my last visit to the Broads as did our dog, who could swim better than me so got out more easily. We compromised on a houseboat, which was a lovely experience. Waking up on the river listening to the call of the birds and watching the moon on the water at night was very relaxing and peaceful.

Jubilee Jubilation

Nicola here, in the UK, where we are marking Queen Elizabeth II’’s 70th anniversary on the throne with Platinum Jubilee celebrations. The series of events being held to celebrate this milestone reminded me of 1977 when I was twelve years old and was living in Leeds in Yorkshire. We had a street party and in the park down the road from us there was a big concert which you could hear from our garden - which was great as my parents wouldn’t allow me to go as I was too young!

Jubilees don’t come around that often. They mark a major milestone in the reign of a monarch and only start after 25 years on the throne with the Silver Jubilee. They are named in the same way that anniversaries are: silver, golden, diamond and platinum but there’s no pearl or sapphire jubilee and none of the smaller anniversaries in between. However, they may be infrequent but they have a long history. The origins of jubilee celebrations go back to Ancient Egypt when a pharoah would take part in various ceremonies to demonstrate his or her fitness to rule. The word “jubilee” derives from the Hebrew word ‘Jobel’ which refers to the ram’s horn with which these ceremonies were proclaimed. Jubilees are, as the name suggests, times of jubilation.

Eccentricity is What Makes History Interesting!

Andrea here, As I mentioned recently, I’m starting a new book project in a new genre, which is both exciting and a little intimidating. It’s historical fiction with a twist—a “fictional” biography, inspired by the life of a real-life person. In my case, it’s Lady Hester Stanhope, an extraordinary individual who broke just about every rule—both written and unwritten—that governed what a woman could and could not do during the Regency era.

The project requires a lot of research, as I need to know not only the details of her life, but also the details of those close to her, and how their stories interweave with hers. Now, I’m a total history nerd, so this is what I consider fun! I’ve already tracked down a number of out-of-print books and memoirs on the internet and google books—thank you to all the libraries, museums and historical society who have so much of their archives digitized. It's wonderful to have an amazing treasure trove of material that I can access while I sit in my pajamas at my writing desk!

Bringing Historical Women to Life

Andrea here, musing on starting a new book project. I’m excited—and also a little nervous—because it’s a new genre. Now, writing never gets easier, but the genres of romance and mystery are a familiar landscape. And I while I always try try to find new path through the nuances with each book, the landmarks are familiar—I have a mental map and feel pretty confident of navigating my way from start to finish.

This new project takes me into historical fiction, and more specifically into a emerging sub-genre of fictional biographies inspired by remarkable women of the past who for too long have had their accomplishments hidden in the shadows of traditional narratives. I’ve occasionally mentioned in my previous blogs how exciting it is to me that so many hidden stories are emerging to broaden and enrich our understanding of the past. So many people and events that didn’t fit into a narrow view of what was deemed “important” or “true” are now getting the acknowledgment they deserve.

Italian Inspiration - Part 2

Christina here with Part 2 of my Italian adventures.

Having visited Pompeii, of course I also had to go to Herculaneum. It’s a nearby town that was destroyed by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD at the same time as Pompeii, and I’d been told that most people nowadays find it more impressive. This is because it is much better preserved, with a lot of the upper storeys of the houses still intact, and the paintings on the walls in situ. I’m afraid I have to disagree though.

Don’t get me wrong – I loved Herculaneum too, it's a fabulous place! Walking around its narrow streets in the Italian sunshine made me feel as though I had travelled back in time 2000 years. The houses were beautiful and gave me a lot more details for the story I’m planning, and I can see why people would prefer it to Pompeii. But to me, the latter was more poignant because it’s so big and the scale of the tragedy that occurred there just hit me in the gut. I can’t explain it, but that’s how I felt.

Confessions of a Country House Tour Guide

Nicola here. Now that we are into May, I’ve restarted my volunteering at Ashdown House, the 17^th century hunting lodge in Oxfordshire where I work for the National Trust. It’s a great pleasure to be back, not least because we have only been open intermittently during the last two years of the pandemic and I really missed being in one of my favourite places.

I love visiting historic houses myself and when I go, I’m always curious to see the tour guides and volunteers in action. So often, things seem to run so smoothly yet when you’re behind the scenes you know it isn’t always the case at all. As with organising anything, there’s mad paddling going on below the surface!

I’ve worked at Ashdown for 20 years now. For years I drove past the stunning little 17^th century white stone house that sat looking mysterious in the middle of a wood. I wondered a lot about its history but I always seemed too busy to visit. It was seldom open to the public and then only by guided tour. However when I gave up my job to become a full time author I was looking for something to do that would get me out of the house and meeting real people. Since history was my obsession, volunteering with the National Trust seemed like a good option.

History of Detective Fiction

Pat here:

As we all know, my Malcolm/Ives families started out in historical romance, took a wicked right turn at the Victorian Age, and crossed over into the contemporary market. With my new Psychic Solutions  series, they took another zig-zag and ended up in mystery. I’ve done romantic suspense, so it isn’t a total departure. But romance is where my heart and soul have been for so long, that I can’t quite let it go. So, of course, romance wraps its way around the mystery because it makes me feel good.

And I miss my historical research. I probably should have missed it enough to dig into the roots of detective fiction so I had a clue of what genre I was actually writing, but my characters are gonna do what they’re gonna do. So I probably saved myself a step.

Italian Inspiration - Part 1

Christina here and as I was lucky enough to go to Italy recently, it’s time for some more armchair travelling. I hope you’ll enjoy the journey as much as I did, albeit vicariously!

I was a little girl the first time I heard about Pompeii and the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. This tragic event really stuck in my mind and ever since then, I’ve wanted to go there, but I never had the opportunity until two weeks ago when my dream finally came true. Sometimes, when you’ve wished for something for a very long time, it turns out to be a disappointment. Not Pompeii though, or any of the other sites we visited! I was enchanted.

BTW, this wasn’t just a pleasure jaunt, it was for research purposes. For a while now, I’ve had a timeslip/dual time story brewing in my mind set against the backdrop of Vesuvius’ eruption. I’d already done quite a bit of reading on the subject, but there is only so much you can do with facts on a page. Actually visiting a place is invaluable, and so my husband and I set out on our fascinating journey.

The Order of the Bath Tub

Nicola here and today I’m wallowing in the bath. Or I would be if it weren’t such an un-eco-friendly thing to do these days. Before I sat down to write this blog, I checked out whether showering really uses less water than bathing and of course it all depends on how deep the bath or how long the shower. A bath filled about a third of the way up (which takes the water level over your belly button when you lie down) requires around 75 litres. An ordinary electrically heated shower puts out four litres per minute. So a 19-minute shower uses slightly more water than a bath. If you have a power shower, flow rates could be doubled and you’d need just 10 minutes.

In terms of health benefits there is also positive news on either side. Showers are better for getting you clean and not stripping all the natural moisture from your skin. Baths are more therapeutic to help you relax and of course you can add things to them to soak in. Which is where this all started before I digressed, because what I wanted to blog about today is things we put in the bath!

Who is James Edward Oglethorpe?

Pat here, just back from a three week trip by plane, boat, and car (don’t know how we missed train. . .) and a little too overwhelmed to write a coherent blog. The original intent of our travel was research in Charleston and Savannah, but weather upended most of those plans. Both cities are charming, and their early days would be great for contrasting, but that would take more time and space than I have. So I thought I’d dive into Savannah’s history first—until I remembered General James Oglethorpe, the city’s founder. The man was absolutely fascinating and a century before his time, at the very least. If only all our rich and famous could be as broad-minded. . .

May Day, May Day!

By Mary Jo

A recent Wench blog by Christina had us describing our personal Easter customs and memories, which I much enjoyed, though I didn't have much to contribute. (I forgot to mention that we dye Easter eggs.  And then devil and eat them. <G>)

But it got me to thinking about a little custom that I hadn't thought about in literally decades: my older sister and I making little paper cones, putting in a few flowers, generally daffodils since not much else was blooming then in Upstate New York, and taking them around to the neighbors.  We lived on a rural road with not many houses within walking distance, but it was a pleasant little custom.

I remember one year when my sister had outgrown the custom so I went around on my own.  There were a lot of Polish immigrants in our area of Western New York because there was plenty of good farm land.  I didn't notice much difference in the kids at my school except that the Polish kids tended to be blonder. But many had Polish grandmothers at home. 

On this particular year, I went to a small house on the corner of the state highway where we lived and a nearby dirt road. The little house had been a schoolhouse once, and my own father once was a student there.  (When I think back, this is all pretty remarkable but at the time it was perfectly natural.)

 

Avian Friends

Christina here. I’ve been mulling over ideas for a new story, and one of the things I’d like to add is an unusual pet. In the past, I’ve always given my heroes and heroines faithful canine companions, but this time I want something a little bit different. I’m considering a pet raven.

As I write about Viking times, this seems appropriate, since the god Odin was said to have two ravens – Huginn (Old Norse for ‘thought’) and Muninn (Old Norse for ‘memory’). According to the sagas, this pair would fly across the world each day and then return to Odin to give him information about anything that might concern him. His personal spies, as it were. It is interesting that this particular type of bird was chosen by the god to be his informants – Vikings must have known how clever they are.

The Age of the Euphemism

Nicola here. I'm in my writing cave dealing with revisions to my latest manuscript, so today I have dusted down a Wench classic post from 7 years ago which provoked an interesting and fun discussion at the time and I hope will do the same now its been updated and expanded. The topic is "euphemisms" and the first line of this blog piece is of course a euphemism in itself. What I really mean is that I planned a new blog topic but ran out of time to write it. Euphemisms are "a mild or indirect word or expression substituted for one considered to be too harsh or blunt when referring to something unpleasant or embarrassing." And we use them all the time: "Downsizing" for job cuts, "certified pre-owned" for a used item (or "pre-loved" for clothes), "friends with benefits," "creative with the truth," ladies' powder room" to quote just a few. There are endless ways of softening something that sounds too direct and the word euphemism itself originates from the Ancient Greek meaning "good speaking."

There are many euphemisms for things that are considered too personal to express directly. This is where this blog post receives it's X rating as we plunge into topics that have been and may still be culturally taboo for some people. In both my mother's and grandmother's generation there were certain words that were simply not appropriate to use. My dearly-loved godmother, for example, completely confused me when she referred to her "sit upon." I thought she meant a piece of furniture rather than her bottom! But euphemisms enable people to speak about things they find uncomfortable. They are comfort words that help us broach difficult topics. It's worth bearing in mind though, that you can stumble into cultural quicksands with euphemisms very easily. The "fanny pack" is one example, and did you know that in Scotland a "peenie" is an apron so "get your peenie out" could be misconstrued? And whilst on that subject, the question "which way do you dress?" from a tailor to a client during a trouser fitting is a euphemism designed to save both from embarrassment but which could easily cause confusion.

Victorian Opulence at Osborne House!

Nicola here. A couple of weeks ago I spent a few days on the Isle of Wight in a cottage that is situated on the Osborne House estate. Although I knew that Queen Victoria had built Osborne as a summer holiday home (more on that later!) I knew very little about it or its history so it was a fascinating trip. When I say that we stayed in a cottage, it was actually the gatehouse to the estate, known as Sovereign’s Gate, which was the entrance through which Queen Victoria and her family would have approached the house back in the day. Now transformed into a holiday home over three levels, it’s a fabulous place to stay. These days the Sovereign’s Gate is locked but Angus was happy to pose for a photo to show it off! Inside the gatehouse has many of its original 19th century features, including these fabulous windows with movable sashes on a pulley system.

As the house and grounds were closed, we had the place largely to ourselves. This was an enormous privilege enabling us to explore
the acres of gardens, park and beach (as long as we told the security detail that we were going out - it was rather like having bodyguards!). It also meant that I got a personalised tour of Osborne House itself, which was brilliant. I was allowed to use the  “ministers’ door”; there were five different entrances at Osborne, one reserved for the monarch only, the second for the royal family, the third for ministers, the fourth for titled visitors and members of the court and the one round the back for the servants and tradesmen!

Hokusai and Japanese Woodblock Prints

Christina here. Ever since I lived in Japan, I’ve been drawn to Japanese woodblock prints. They are both simple and beautiful, and the variety of subjects is endless. Mostly they depict nature and/or people and places, and one of the absolute masters of this art was Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849). I think most people are familiar with his most famous print known as The Great Wave, which was actually entitled Under the Wave off Kanagawa. I love how he managed to create such wonderful scenes with just a few brushstrokes and his prints really show the Japanese way of life as it was back then.

He is mostly known for his landscape prints and paintings, but he was also the most amazing illustrator for various types of books. Recently, I was fortunate enough to attend an exhibition at the British Museum in London of some of his preliminary sketches and drawings for one such, a sort of picture encyclopedia that was going to be called The Great Picture Book of Everything. It was extremely interesting to see how he’d gone about creating the prints and where he got his ideas from. Most of the drawings were quite tiny and a little dark, but all were exquisite and showed his sense of humour and incredible imagination.

A Book at Bedtime

Nicola here, talking today about listening to stories, not as audio books but as serializations. On 31^st January 1949 the first edition of BBC Radio’s "Book at Bedtime" was broadcast. It ran every night for 15 minutes between 10.45pm and 11pm. The first book that was serialized was John Buchan’s The Three Hostages, a rip-roaring adventure story written in 1924. In the months and years that followed, all sorts of literature from the classics to new releases has and continues to be featured on the program, although perhaps there hasn't been as much genre fiction as there might have been. In fact only a year or so ago the BBC admitted that they were looking for happier endings after noticing that listeners had been put off by “gratuitously violent and tragic stories.” Well, yeah – I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t want to drift off to sleep with images of violence or misery into my mind! 

According to The Times, a brief circulated to potential producers at the time stated: “We will always aim to select a variety but we would like to be offered more titles that are pure pleasure, diversion or even comedy. Happy endings are often a bit too rare in what we are asked to consider. We can listen to sad or disturbing stories if they are ultimately redemptive, but a gratuitously violent or tragic ending is upsetting, infuriating and can seem distasteful.” The note adds that “listeners rarely enjoy being cheated with ambiguity or uncertainty”, implying a preference for plotlines that are neatly resolved. Again, that's a yes from me; I don't mind stories where some elements are left unresolved for the reader or listener to decide on, but if that happened just before I was going to sleep I'd lie awake thinking about it!

The Art of Letterlocking

Andrea here, musing today about privacy and our personal correspondences. I think that most of us would prefer that our words are only read by the person or persons for whom they are intended. Thus we’re paying more attention to having passwords and two-step notifications set up to keep “snoopers” away from our e-mails.

But the wish for privacy is nothing new when it comes to personal correspondences. Apparently historical figures like Queen Elizabeth I, Mary, Queen of Scots, Galileo, Marie Antoinette, and Albrecht Dürer, just to name a few, were equally worried about people snooping through their mail! Recently, I happened to come across a fascinating article in the New York Times about historical “letterlocking” in Western Europe and thought I would share some of what I learned on the subject.

A Little Bit of Switzerland in Regency England!

Nicola here. When I was a student in London, I lived near the Finchley Road. This was one of the main roads that led North out of the centre of London and it was often very busy with traffic. At one large roundabout there was a sight that always struck me as very odd: A Swiss chalet in the middle of the road. It was a pub and it was called, perhaps unsurprisingly, “Swiss Cottage.” The roundabout and the nearby underground station were named after it, and for such a busy and modern place it looked total incongruous.

I didn’t realise then that when the original “Swiss Tavern” was built there in 1804, it was part of a
larger fashion for recreating Swiss landscapes in England and elsewhere as part of the Romantic movement. Yes, as is often the case, the poet William Wordsworth had a hand in bringing back the idea of “Swissness” as something that represented freedom and beautiful scenery. In 1790 he and a friend took a walking tour of Switzerland and he was awestruck by the landscape and also by a scale model he saw of Lake Lucerne, the mountains and the alpine cottages. He brought home the idea of creating little Switzerlands in the English countryside.

Reasons to Like January

Nicola here. Sometimes I’ve been inclined to think of January as a long, dark, cold month without a lot going for it, but I was talking to a friend the other day and she saw the month in quite a different light.  “I love January,” she said. “I don’t spend much money and I get myself organised for the months ahead.” So as we approach Twelfth Night and the end of the traditional Christmastide, I thought I would muse on all the reasons there are to like January.

According to my Chambers Book of Days, the gemstone for January is the garnet and the birth flower is either the snowdrop or the carnation. At Ashdown Woods the first green shoots of the wild snowdrops are already pushing through the ground. By the end of the month they will be starting to flower. The snowdrop’s Latin name is Galanthus, from the Greek for “milk flower”. In French the snowdrop is known as the “perce-neige” because it pierces the snow, and the Germans call it Schneeglöckchen, little snowbell, which are all such pretty names suiting its delicate beauty. It’s real reminder of spring on the way.

This brings me to the weather. You may know the saying: “There’s no bad weather only bad clothing choices.” In my part of Northern Hemisphere it’s a time for scarves, gloves and hats and also waterproof layers. The rain may feel cold and raw but it’s also refreshing. And I love the sound the wind makes blowing through the bare branches of the trees. Darkness still arrives during the afternoon but the light lasts a little longer each day. My morning and evening walks give stormy skies and great views of the weather blowing across the Vale of the White Horse.

An old Celtic name for January was “the dead month” whilst the Anglo Saxons called it “Wolfmonath” which does send a shiver down the spine. It’s easy to see how January got its bad reputation. But there is so much pleasure in returning from a cold walk to a hot cup of tea, sitting down with a book whilst darkness falls outside, and enjoying the sense of new beginnings whether they are eagerly-anticipated TV shows or films, or a new course to join or a new interest to pursue.

What do you like – or even love - about January?

The Songbirds of Winter

Nicola here. It’s December 28^th and day four of the twelve days of Christmas. These days when I wake up in the mornings it’s usually still dark so I doze for a bit before getting up to make the morning tea and let the dogs out. One of the first sounds I often hear, as dawn is breaking, is birdsong.

In the well-known song, on the fourth day of Christmas, my true loves gives to me “four calling birds” as well as the three French hens, two turtle doves and the partridge in the pear tree. Originally, however the words were “four colly birds,” which in 1780 when the song was written meant four blackbirds. These were the European blackbirds that are the colour of coal dust. The words were changed to “calling birds” in some versions at the start of the 20^th century as so many people didn’t know that “colly bird” was a northern dialect word for a black bird.

In another old nursery rhyme four and twenty blackbirds are baked in a pie and “when the pie was opened the birds began to sing”. This isn’t quite as bad as it sounds (although bad enough); in medieval cuisine, the live birds were only put under the pie crust at the last minute to give everyone a surprise when it was served. It certainly would have given you a surprise, I imagine, to find what the blackbirds might have deposited in your pie! (The picture of the blackbird is by Cornelius Nozeman from the collections of the Koninklijke Bibliotheek, part of which is available on Wikimedia Commons.)

This brings me back to waking up in the early morning hearing birdsong. I had thought it was a blackbird in the garden but it turns out that they don’t start singing until the end of January when the male blackbirds start to claim their territories. No, it is the bright and beautiful little European Robin that is perched on our weeping pear tree, singing away as the dawn breaks. Happy Fourth Day of Christmas!

What do you wake up to in the mornings?  Music, a news programme, an alarm, birdsong or like me a nice up of tea? If you would like to listen to the dawn chorus there is a link here.

Dressing For Christmas!

Nicola here. Every year as Christmas approaches, I try to visit one of my favourite stately homes to see it “dressed” for Christmas. This is an official term, apparently, and involves a lot of decorating which puts my own Christmas tree and lights to shame! (For a start, I don't have four model trumpeters outside my house to welcome visitors!) It hasn’t been possible to keep this visiting tradition going during the pandemic, so this year it was a real treat to be able to go to Beaulieu in the New Forest and enjoy some spectacular decorations that totally put me in the Christmas mood.

Beaulieu is probably best known for its famous Motor Museum and whilst I did pop in to have a look at an Aston Martin or two (there was a James Bond exhibition on) my main interest was in the ruins of the abbey and Beaulieu Palace itself.

There isn’t much left of the abbey, once the largest Cistercian building in England. The ruins are rather atmospheric though. Like so many other monastic buildings, the abbey’s downfall came in 1538 with Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries when it was sold into private hands and much of the stone was taken away and used for other building projects. It’s still possible to see the scale of the whole estate and imagine it surrounded by a 12 foot high wall that stretched for a mile, with the great gatehouse (which still stands) and the river and quay where boats would unload their supplies.