La Belle Jardiniere – August, 1896 by Eugène Grasse

Summer was slow this year and the garden responded reluctantly unfolding only part of it's potential for us to see. Rain and winds destroyed the poppy, peony and damask rose blooms almost as soon as they appeared and the lawns were strewn with the beautiful translucent petals. Despite being spoiled the air was still heavily scented while from the peatls laying fadding in the sun that followed the storms. We had some spectacular skies. The water lillies have still not yet bloomed but as August arrived so did the first Dragonfly we have ever had on our pond. Summer happened rather suddenly, not in the sleepy lazy manner it sometimes takes.

One of my Opium Poppies in the garden and a mass of happy Hover Flies

Already the nights are shorter and leaves are turning from a dark palette of green towards the golden rusted hues of Autumn.

I often write about how much of my early love for, and knowledge of folklore, came from listening to the music of the 60s and 70s. A particular favourite of mine was the band Traffic. I will always remember dancing barefoot to them in the 70s.

 
At the time they were living together in a gamekeepers cottage on a farm near Aston Tirrold in rural Oxfordshire (then it was still part of Berkshire). Down a narrow muddy track and surrounded by farm fields it was no wonder that they were celebrating folklore in their music. Like the songs which they sang both the band and the cottage have become embroidery on the ever growing tapestry of English fables.

The Traffic cottage near Aston Tirrold, Berkshire

In those now far distant days I lived a somewhat isolated life, and every new aspect of a different kind of life which I came across fascinated me. We had little access to history books and there was no internet. My family did not frequent church, attending only on a rare occasion. We lived for a short time in a Californian agricultural area, but not grain, it was tomatoes and green vegetables, usually picked by Mexican workers, nothing like the rural scenes in Europe. I first became aware of the Harvest Festival when I moved to San Francisco and heard Traffic's version of the old folk ballad, John Barleycorn Must Die.




It was intriguing and enchanting in equal measure and set me on a journey of discovery which continued when I moved to England a few years later.  While working in London I spent lunch hours in libraries or museums reading about old folk tales including John Barleycorn and viewing paintings of the harvest, in Autumn and earlier. 'Tis a long story not to be told here, but you may read more about poor John if you follow the links at the bottom of this post.And please, do listen to the song it tells this tale far better than I am able to do in words.

What I was most interested in was that although we traditionally think of the harvest being in Autumn, in fact the first one is in August and it is this one from which the fable of John Barleycorn arises.


I've always preferred cooler weather and I love the end of summer, even though it is melancholy as birds leave for winter grounds, flower blooms wither and leaves fall. The Earth begins to still and quiet descends which will follow with the silence of winter.


But first people gather the harvest from the fields and share the first bread from that harvest, which has a magical essence to them. The grain which they work hard to sow and reap not only gives them bread but also whisky and ale, and all of these make are celebrated at Lammastide. John Barleycorn is central in the Lammastide festivity as he is  the personification of the grain, which must be cut down to use. But he is resurrected in the bread and drink and his tale was widely sung in taverns.

Sommer by Leopold Graf von Kalckreuth. Oil on canvas, 1890

Detail, The Corn Harvest

baking bread in a medieval oven

Pieter Bruegel the Elder The Corn Harvest (August) Here:

Detail, Pieter Bruegel the Elder The Corn Harvest

Living in a small village atop a hill surrounded by golden fields, and funny enough not so very far from that fabled Traffic cottage, I am closer to the times when people lived off the land and in communities than I ever have been. Many of the village cottages have bread ovens, and our local pub and church have a harvest celebration.

Cottage bread oven

 Our workers cottages are much changed but up until the 1930s there was no running water here, there was a well in our garden for the community, and an old bakehouse where bread and other foods were baked daily.  There has been a settlement here since the Romans, and the local church is 12th century. I imagine that many a Lammas loaf was eaten here through time.

village cottages

  

I love this painting which for me sums up what a delicacy bread abd honey was. The Queen Was In Her Parlour Eating Bread and Honey, Valentine Cameron Prinsep

Part of my small collection of honey pots

Many years ago when researching the origins of John Barleycorn and Lammas I visited an ancient pub in the New Forest at Cadnam, called The Sir John Barleycorn. It's one of those places where there seems to be a timeslip, as you can feel the past like a thin veil laying just over today.

Francis Frith collection, Here:

The pub today their website, Here:

source, here:

Since then I have come across many such name references to John Barleycorn throughout England and I am sure many more lie undiscovered by me yet!

The John Barleycorn at Duxley

I've recently acquired a beautiful book of woodcuts by Mary Azarian which tells the story.


Some 40 years after first hearing it, John Barleycorn remains one of my most beloved songs. There are many worthy versions but I will always love Traffic's best of all.


This is an exquisite version from youtube, done by Stevie Winwood by himself, please listen. Here:

And you can see Stevie Winwood revisit that famous cottage, in a little bit of film made by Artisan Pictures, Here:

FURTHER READING ON JOHN BARLEYCORN:

John Barleycorn Wiki page, Here:

 An article about lammastide, Here:

A most interesting and detailed look at just who this John Barleycorn realy was, by storyteller Austin Hackney. This is a great blog where I could spend hours. Here:


Finally, you can read more about Traffic on the Rural Culture blogspot Here:

A Swift glides effortlessly across the surface of the water photo credit RSPB website

Last week the Swifts gathered in large numbers overhead, flying low and shrieking loudly.  They were preparing to leave their summer homes here in the United Kingdom and begin their perilous and long flight to their winter home. The RSPB website tells us, "Our UK Swifts migrate through France and Spain to spend their winter in Africa, south of the Sahara, where they follow the rains to take advantage of rapid changes in insect populations. While many immature birds return to the breeding grounds in the spring, some will remain in Africa."  It is not known exactly how long that Swifts live, some monitored birds have been at least 16 years, but the average is apparently around 6.

Martin Ridley, Swifts, Summer Evenings His wildlife art on his website, Here: Martin's post about the Swifts on his home, Here:

Those found in the UK are known as 'Common Swifts', though I have never seen anything common about them. We only have the joy of them for a few weeks. They more than any other bird herald the coming of summer. They arrive earlier than House Martins and Swallows, and they leave sooner. Though they live in two places, this is considered their home because it is here that they breed, bringing up just one brood. The years when our summers are very wet are difficult for them. They struggle to find enough to eat and their broods may not survive.


They make their homes in slits in tall buildings and their habitats are threatened by demolition and change. But there is hope. In several quarters people who love them are making a difference to their survival.

Oxford University Natural History Museum from their website, Here:

When I visit Oxford I always try to take time to go to Oxford University Natural History Museum which is not only a wonderful Arts and Crafts building but is also a magical museum. I have often heard the Swifts overhead while there and on one visit the museum staff explained to us that they have nested in the ventilation flues in the tower for many years. They have been the subject of the Oxford Univeristy Swift Research Project which was begun in 1947 by David and Elizabeth Lack.  The book that David wrote about his study was ground breaking and if you are interested in the species it is worth the effort to find a copy from second hand book dealers. 


You can read more about the Swifts that live at the museum on their website, and it offers a special treat - you can watch them nesting in the summer months on their webcam, but they will be gone now and to do this you will need to check back next April when they begin to return.  Here:

And there is a follow up book by Roy Overall and Andrew Lack, son of David, they have monitored the Museum swifts every year since 1962.


Swifts are not technically related to our other summer visitors the House Martins and Swallows but you often see them all sharing the sky. They are different in one very significant way too, while the latter two are mostly country birds preferring cottages and farms Swifts are often found in towns, especially if they have tall buildings. But they also like a country setting too.

Swift (lower left) and Martins and Swallow (upper right). Photo Credit BBC How to Identify each bird, Here:

Superstition surround these charcoal winged birds which to some resemble bats. Like many other black coloured birds they suffer prejudice. or me they bring joy and wonder.  Because of their mysterious nature in the past people believed that many of these summer visitors actually hibernated in the winter and thought they did so in the mud of ponds.

From the RSPB website page Help Save Swifts, Here:

Their little faces are smaller than that of House Martins and Swallows, and they lack the quick glmpses of colour, the blue on the wings, the white on the little bodies, or that red on the throat of the Swallow. This lack of colour may seem sinister to some.


Their very nature makes them seem less friendly than house Martins and Swallows who build their nests upon our houses, or in barns and chatter sweetly amongst themselves. Their gossip is calming and soothing. In contrast the shrieking of Swifts can seen harsh, although I always think that they are making their noises in the sheer exhilaration of being able to fly so high, swop so low over meadows and lake at such speed. 

Swifts by Paul Robinson, 1923 His website is Here:

Swifts are very aptly named, they are indeed swift in flight and spend almost all of their life on the wing, eating, mating and even sleeping in the air.  This makes them impossibly magical to me. They have the smallest legs of any bird, tiny claw like feet, with which they cling vertically to building and their nest. It is rare to see them still, and should you ever come across one on the ground know that it is in great danger and needs your help.

Photo from Action for Swifts, Here:

Action For Swifts has been helping Swifts for many years. You can read all about Swifts, the work they do to help them, and what to do should you come across a grounded Swift on their excellent website, Here:

Yet many people remain totally unaware of their presence as often they fly so high in the skies that only their scimitar outline can be seen and their shrieking is faint.  I find it amazing that so few people actually look up. What glories they miss there amongst the clouds.

Art Deco enamelled Swift brooch, Pierre Bex, France website, Here:

You will find that Swallows and House Martins are much more often depicted in paintings, upon china or cast in jewels than the Swift. Every now and then I come across them or find words of inspiration written about them. I think the poem by Ted Hughes perfectly captures the feeling of magic in this painting below.

Swifts

They’ve made it again,
Which means the globe’s still working, the Creation’s
Still waking refreshed, our summer’s
Still all to come

Ted Hughes ~

Common Swifts by Bruno Liljefors, 1886 His Wiki page, Here:

I love all of these summer visitors and await the arrival of them in our village each year. When it is time for them to leave I am always filled with a melancholy. Another summer has come to it's close. I never know how many of my winged friends will make the return journey the next year, or as life itself is fragile, if I will be here to welcome them home once more.

Olde Isleworth by The Thames

Swifts would be an impossible joy to me regardless but they hold a very special place in my heart because of my meeting with one when I was young and discovering all the wonder of nature. In those days I lived in a Victorian villa by the river in Olde Isleworth which was 4 stories high, one of the tallest buildings in the area bar the church and nunnery school. We had a Swift nest close by. I would stick my head out to listen to what they were saying to each other as they spun by and I was lucky to have a closer look at them. One day to my horror I found a young Swift on the ground. I cupped it in my hands and rushed home. It was bat like with a tiny face and great wings, such soft velvet like feathers of many shades of grey and black. Fortunately a phone call to a nature shelter provided me with the necessary information to assist this bird. After checking that the bird was sound, no broken wings or bones, I took it upstairs to the top of the attic and threw open the window. Holding it loosely on my hands it began to stir as it smelled the air and it moved it's wings. With great trepidation and a prayer I hoped that it would take wing.  I held my breath.

Common Swift in palm by zerofilius on Deviant Art, Here:

It flew. And soared, and I swear that it went past me several times before continuing higher into the skies where I could never follow.

Swift by Jeffrey Fisher His website, Here:

NOTES:

Other places you can read more about these fascinating birds.

David Attenborough presents the Swift on Tweet of the Day. 

Swift Conservation, their website is full of information. Here:

Royal Society of Preservation Birds (RSPB), Here:

As August drifts into September we in England have the last Bank Holiday of the year. It's an odd time, before school re-claims the children and after mid summer dreaming has left us feeling a little drowsy. Things seem to have slowed down and I know I am not alone in my thoughts turning toward the sea and longing for one last weekend there. Like fairy tales, I believe that no matter how old that we become we still love sandcastles and a part of us knows there amongst those rocks there is a Mermaid. 

Miranda, the Mermaid of Dartmouth

As a writer it is interesting which blog posts become your most popular and amongst mine there seems to be a balance between the Summer and the Autumn / Winter posts. The sea and the woodlands both have a strong pull for so many of us. 

Deer on Exmoor overlooking the sea

Late summer kindles many memories from my Californian upbringing when the months of heat had baked the Earth and the flora dry. That sun shone so brightly that the world was seen through a gauze of glinting silver and gold too bright to look directly at.  It was an odd combination of desert / prairie dust and winds and the ocean where we would retreat to cool ourselves and the palette of our visions down. It was easy to imagine that you glimpsed a Mermaid there just by the water's edge.


We foolishly tanned and wore our antique Navajo silver and turquoise jewellery into the sea. Our hair tangled with salt we would sit on the sand and dry ourselves singing along with our favourite songs like sirens.  I now realise that young girls will always dream of being Mermaids.


I am drawn to the mountains but also to the sea. I love the quality of light there and for awhile thought I might one day live in a cheerful cottage in some little village on one of England's pretty coasts.


But then I visited the wilder beaches in Norfolk, villages along the top of Exmoor, hidden coves in Dorset, Devon and Cornwall and I saw the houses which sit precariously along the Bosphorus. There, in these places I found my true coastal calling.

Norfolk light

Durdle, Dorset

It's somewhere quiet, with less people, a little melancholy, where memories can dwell without being disturbed.




There the sea will not often be a tame one, it will command respect and play with you, battering the shores in great tempests before subsiding into shiny sequinned calm.  I will wrap up warmly for walks collecting shells and helping creatures which the sea has forsaken find their way home after the storm has gone.

My home is not a cottage. I live in The Mermaid's House, the old house by the sea which has a place in the heart of every ancient mariner who has ever loved the sea. 



For the Sea Captain who built this house fell in love with a Mermaid he found on the beach after a terrible tempest. Because he saved her life she gave up her deep ways to tend to him and the house he built for her. 


They shared a special love, they both knew that their first love, for each of them, was the sea. When he was away for long periods she was never far from the sea and it remained her real home. Over the years local people found her mysterious ways bewitching and many folk tales grew up around her.  Some say that she was not just a Mermaid, but a Sea Witch.


She had his daughter, together they gathered beautiful remnants from their beloved sea to adorn themselves and because he was a wealthy Sea Captain they could collect wondrous jewels and objects in the colours of their watery home to delight him when he returned from long journeys.





The Sea Captain's house they decorated in hues of blue and green and glints of silver and gold and their carefully collected objects drifted through and settled in all the rooms of the house.

William Morris 'Seaweed' wallpaper

Torquay Pottery Mermaid Jug

sea glass tiles

But alas, Sea Captains are not as long lived as Mermaids and when he lived no more they stayed on for awhile there alone. One night during a raging storm they disappeared and were n 'ever seen except by those who knew where to look for them.

a Tempest

People say that Neptune came to collect them and take them home and swear that on that night they saw great white horses pawing the ground outside of the house, and that upon the morn you could still see the hoof prints in the sand.

Walter Crane, Neptune's Horses

The Shell Cottage, Polperro

 and perhaps there was more than one Sea Captain who shared the love of the sea with a Mermaid.




Of course I know where The Mermaid's House is, because I live there. But I am not telling you.

The first page of the first book. Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone

And so it began. I've said before that words can hold hidden power to touch us in so many ways. Often it happens suddenly but sometimes the magic is so strong that the spell continues to work forever and we may only realise just how spellbound that we are until later,much later. A seemingly very ordinary person or place can become etched upon our minds and hearts because of a wonderfully written book or a film.

J.K. Rowling signed, 'the book that changed my life.' Many could have signed underneath, 'Me Too!'

In the case of Harry Potter our lives have been graced by both.

Rubeus Hagrid delivers baby Harry to 4 Privet Drive

Right from the beginning when Rubeus Hagrid dropped off the baby Harry at the suburban address of number 4 Privet Drive this address had entered a special place from which, no matter how it tried, it could never be ordinary again. It would take on a life and meaning much bigger than the house itself could ever be in real life.


The current owners have put the house on the market. Though this little house was not the favourite abode of choice of Harry who much preferred Hogwarts, you can imagine the excitement of the children who knew that Harry had been there.

The real perfectly ordinary house in a perfectly ordinary road.

The film set created at Warners Bros Studio, Leavesden for the subsequent films

A vintage poster extolling the virtue of suburbia.

The real house, which is actually at 12 Picket Post Close, near Bracknell, Berkshire, is not far from us here in our little village and I was tempted to go and take a peak at it. Growing up I despaired that it seemed all the fair maidens, knights, ghosts and fairies always lived in grand houses in obviously magical places.

Professor Minerva McGonagall as a cat in Privet Drive

Not often did the hero or heroine arrive from an ordinary place. Later I came to appreciate hugely any that did and the writers who gave a magic life to plain things.

The quiet cul-de-sac where 4 Privet Drive resided

The sitting/Dining Room, Kitchen & small garden

The estate agent's brochure does not have any photographs of an under stair cupboard, which the owner admits was not used for the films but instead houses a non-magical ironing board and the toys of her children. 

The main bedroom and the two single bedrooms

There is nothing magical about the house itself, as you can clearly see in these photos. But somehow you do keep expecting Harry to appear. The main bedroom does have a touch of purple about it, but only a tasteful amount. And is that a Gruffalo in one of the children's rooms there?

The Dursley's  purple chintz bedroom in the films

Harry in his under the stairs bedroom, from Vanity Fair 2001

The idea that J.K. Rowling chose to hide the young vulnerable Harry in such a suburban street, in plain sight, so to speak, thrilled me. And I thanked her for that, knowing how it would give hope to so many ordinary children that their own lives could be touched by the magic that many literary sources deny to them.

Homes and Property in their article, say this about the house: full article here:

"The property in Picket Post Close near Reading, known as 4 Privet Drive in the film, was selected out of hundreds of houses around the UK to become the home of Harry's Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley Dursley.

The three-bedroom house in Martins Heron, Bracknell, was cast as the "perfectly ordinary house on a perfectly ordinary street" for the 2001 film, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. The property’s then owner Sandra Smith was approached by filmmakers who spotted the house and thought it closely resembled the Thirties home in Little Whinging, Surrey described by JK Rowling. Filming took place at the location over two weeks as the property was transformed into the home of the Dursley family.

The Boy Who Lived famously did so in the cupboard-under-the-stairs - during his early years, at least.

Harry's aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon reserved two of four bedrooms in Privet Drive for their odious son Dudley, one for themselves and another for guests. While Harry kept the spiders and the vacuum cleaner company in the cupboard at night. In Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone the orphan wizard is quickly moved into “Dudley’s second bedroom” by his rattled relatives after he starts receiving letters addressed to “Harry Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs.”

Harry's mail

Harry's mail takes over the sitting room

The current owner has lived there since May 2010 when the house was purchased for £290,000.   Seven years earlier, it was put up for auction with a much higher guide price than its market value thanks to its connection to Harry Potter, but the home failed to sell when the £250,000 reserve price wasn't met - despite receiving a bid of £249,000. "

You can read an interview with the current owner Claire Powder who is blissfully unaware of the owner of Potter having never read the books or seen any but the first film which included their home.  Here:


There has been a lot of interest in the house. I had to smile when I read the usual warning that, "viewings are strictly by appointment only".  Better to be safe than sorry, Dementors might turn up uninvited like they have before.





The owls are not what they seem ....

Proud and snobby Dursleys at home

Harry and his Uncle

Harry's under stairs cupboard bedroom

The Order of the Phoenix

Dobby visits Harry in his bedroom at Privet Drive

The Dursleys leaving 4 Privet Drive

Harry says goodbye to Hedwig

The Deathly Hallows, The final battle nears, friends meet at 4 Privet Drive

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Harry is 16 years old, still underage for a Wizard and unable to use his powers to the full without attracting unwanted attention.  Members of the Order of the Phoenix come to 4 Privet Drive to escort Harry to the Burrow. The rationale behind this was that they couldn't use the Floo Network, they couldn't Apparate, they couldn't use a Portkey, and Harry still had the Trace on him. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 Harry and Hagrid leave Privet Drive for the last time

further Reading:

Well, the books, of course!

But you could start here for more information: Harry Potter Wiki for 4 Privet Drive

Or here, at Pottermore

Attic Treasures by John O'Brien

I usually do a more serious post for All Hallows Eve, or throw a lavish ball. But this year we are nursing our old Maine Coon Munchkin LeStrange and as he is poorly our cottage is a little quieter than usual at this time of the season. Celebrations are kept at minimum so he can sleep.

Our ghostly mantle overlooked by a Victorian champion amongst racehorses,  Stockwell.

We have a lot of candles lit, we are stocked up on chocolate to drink and to give out to the small Trick or Treat ones who call upon us.


Our cottage door and walk are hung with Halloween decorations, as each year, to make the children welcome and Mrs Black is watching for them. I hope they knock soon!

Dog Ghosts!

While Munchkin has been resting I have been putting the time to good use on the never ending task of a dealer in antiquities ~ sorting. Munchkin seems to be comforted by me and the various boxes of items spread about and he slumbers in his basket at the centre of it all.

The real life home of collector Vervia Todd Here:

This reminded me of my youth and the 'Dressing Up Boxes' which children of yesteryear would have had at their disposal. I can remember the delight with which I first delved into such a box in the attic of the Grandmother of a friend of mine. It was a cedar chest and in it was a satin and tulle ball gown, beaded flapper dresses, a velvet opera cape, long lace gloves and hats with feathers and jewels. It had little compartments on top which lifted out. In these were long lace gloves, paste brooches and headbands which looked like crowns to me. On the very bottom of the box were silk slippers from the 20s. They were tiny and encrusted with beads. This was as close as I ever got to being Cinderella.

It's easy to make a Dressing Up Box for your children, or yourself!

My own life was nowhere near as grand as this though we too played dressing up, from a cardboard box of discarded items. Once in awhile we visited thrift shops and I was allowed to gather old velvet dresses or capes to play in.

Such stuff as dreams. Fit for any Princess to play act in. A velvet dressing gown from Toast.

Like many portals which have the power to transport us to somewhere else, to turn us into someone else, (or our real selves,) Dressing Up Boxes never lose their appeal. They may not be as dramatic as the wardrobe in C.S Lewis's wonderful tale, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, but the magic is there.

The Wardrobe

I know that we are encouraged to 'grow up', set aside our Fairy Tales and childish costumes and live in the real world. I believe this is a mistake. The real world is full of beauty and dread, good and evil. Fairy Tales help prepare us for this, and a little escapism does us some good from time to time.

Helena Bonham Carter in Twelfth Night Read more From Here:

 Halloween, and any dress up which children play, teaches them to use their imagination. Wanting to dress up and act out characters is not new, the Victorians loved doing this, and the kings and queens of old always held masquerades and kept a jester. Shakespeare certainly knew this!


Today, more than ever, those who inherit this Earth will need to be able to use their wits to find their way. And to believe.

I'm sharing some of my favourite Halloween moments from my internet travels.

Proud 30s/40s children playing dress up at school

vintage Halloween costumes

Angry-Jack Photo by Johanna Parker Design on Flickr

This child Porcupine is brilliant!

Bring your horse too!

Alas! Sad Squid.

Oldies but goodies, always well dressed The Stones

I'd also like to say that dressing up is not just for Halloween. It's easy this time of year to wrap up warm and forget the joy a little ornamentation brings to us, and to those who look at us. Couture has known this forever, and although few of us could afford to buy the creations they bring each season, it is simple to do small things to enhance our Autumn and Winter outfits. Or you might even get lucky and find a real vintage designer item at a charity shop for a song. Take some inspiration from films, paintings and celebrities. And vintage copies of Vogue.

"You don't have to be born beautiful to be wildly attractive" Diana Vreeland, Vogue

Use of a dramatic colour brightens your look La Sargantaine, Ramón Casas i Carbó, 1907

You can never go wrong with Audrey. Or Chanel. Just add pearls.

Audrey Hepburn Eternally classic. Breakfast At Tiffany's

Diane Keaton in her own clothes

Details of Florence Welch's Gucci gown, and her rings.

Television shows based upon Victorian/Edwardian and 20s/30s/40s characters offer many ideas for outfits.  Not just for ladies either, that coat Sherlock wears is such a classic. The scarf is great too. The costumes in Peaky Blinders and Penny Dreadful are fantastic and would be fairly easy to borrow bits from.

One for him, the Sherlock Holmes coat and scarf.

Peaky Blinders, the 'ladies'

Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby played by Cillian Murphy  smouldering in his wardrobe

Equally stylish Vanessa Ives and gunslinger Ethan Chandler Penny Dreadful

Eva Green as Vanessa Ives in Penny Dreadful Wearing a wonderful velvet and braid over collar on her long coat

Don't forget the looks from the 50s/60s. Think beautiful wool in shocking colours, tactile tweed and coats in fabulous shapes. Add a vintage handbag and remember to wear a brooch. For a more updated look wear a few brooches at the same time!

1958 coats by Cardin and Jacques Griffe

I'd not wear real fur, but this girl has a great look!

She really knows how to wear brooches! And the black trousersuit. From her own blog, Here:

Add jewels or a feather to your hat (wear a hat!) throw a shawl over your shoulder and clasp it with a glittery brooch.





Wear all those bracelets or beads you've been keeping, all at once. Wear velvet in the day. Go on, you know you want to!

Green velvet silk dressing gown, from Toast

Take inspiration from Beatrix Ost, street style post from the blog Advanced Style  written by Ari Seth Cohen

Wear black if it suits you, and gloves

A true inspiration. Model, actress, and owner of over 100 hats Marion Rogers "Mimi' Weddell (February 15, 1915 – September 24, 2009) Read more about her, Here: And on her Wiki page, Here:

Make like 30s film stars and wear pajamas to a party. Monsoon collection 2016

And don't forget if you have children or Grandchildren to help them find their own Dressing Up Box.


I am very grateful that someone still reads my ramblings, and to all of you who do I wish you a magical Autumn (or Fall as we say in my hometown) and I hope that the Winter will be kind to you and that you and yours stay warm and safe, And a little decorated!

Further reading:

A couple of my previous Halloween posts, so sorry if you missed attending the Witch's Ball! I might have another next year.

Two Doors Down From The Witch, Here:

The Witch's Ball, Here:

Artist of Attic Treasures which I opened this post with, Here:

Cinderella Clock made for a display

I am always late for everything in life preferring to hold back and wait and see before testing the waters myself.

Some years ago when the husband and I were buying a property we registered with an  estate agent who simply could not believe that we did not possess a mobile phone between us. She thought we were lying to her.

Since those days which do seem rather a long time ago now we have been dragged (sometimes screaming) into the modern age by younger friends and family members who despair of our dusty hermit like habits. Time moves on and though Blogger was once a favourite place for us all to meet many have found a new café in Instagram which is quicker to use, and you can take it with you! I resisted for ages, but in the end was completely won over by the vast amount of absolutely beautiful images that people share.

Vienna cafe

 I can take an around the world trip in just a few minutes while having a cup of tea and then return to the real world instead of spending hours over posting a piece on Blogger.

Am I leaving Blogger? No, but I cannot pretend that I have as much time as I would like to post and to visit fellow bloggers who I so admire, and so, if you want to follow me more closely I would be honoured if any of you pop over to Instagram and become friends there. Link at the bottom of the post, and in the sidebar. You can still enjoy the galleries on instagram without posting.

While I have been away from Blogger I've not been idle. We have now been at the wonderful old building, The Emporium in Hungerford, for seven years! The shop is doing well and keeping me very busy buying, renovating, inventing and selling. And our poor old rickety cottage continues to vex us trying to keep it upright.

The Emporium in Hungerford, Berkshire

 I've travelled a bit

From a painting at Watts Gallery

renewing my love of the magical places in This Sceptred Isle which first caught my imagination,

Tinsmiths, Ledbury, their magical alley

Step back in time 18 Folgate Street, Spitalfields, London

Thatched cottages in local villages

and fallen in love with another European city, Oh Vienna. I shall return.

Baroque Heaven, look up in Vienna

Art Nouveau everywhere too The exquisite Secession House

More amazing roof, St Stephens Cathedral

 It was lovely to travel, and so good to come home. 


The tall dark and handsome man I'd given my heart to awhile back has done amazing things and become a superstar. In my time I have been bewitched by many special thoroughbreds and could not have hoped that another creature so enchanting would gallop into my life ~ and yet, there he is.Thistlecrack.

Thistlecrack trained in Somerset by Colin Tizzard, and ridden byTom Scudamore, out on their own

I've read a LOT of wonderful books. I hope to post a few soon so that if you have not read them and find them interesting you can look out for them too.

Puff has her own ideas about what we read!

The Last Days of Leda Grey by Essie Fox fascinating look at the world of silent films

Wonderful Edna!

Sadly we had to say farewell to our beloved lodger, little raggedy man Munchkin whose bravery in his illness touched all who knew him.

Our Lionheart Munchkin LeStrange

We had a wonderful Christmas in Devon with the family together for a change, and hope that you enjoyed the holiday season whatever that you believe, and where ever that you may be in the world.


These times are very trying for so many people. Yet with January here and Spring not far behind I do feel positive for the first time in a long while. We can endure.



Find us on instagram Here: discardedtreasures