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For those of you familiar with EF Benson's MAPP & LUCIA, you'll recognise the spirit of this blog. For those of you who are not, there still is no better introduction to Rye Society than these stories. We have all the books & the dvds of the series down here at The Ship so feel free to borrow one when you get here and i can guarantee it will add to the experience!
Dear readers,
A friend of ours has recently come to live down here in Ryeshire and is busy doing the things that one does when one moves to a town like Rye and it struck us that we could exploit this opportunity and perhaps have him ramble on for you people on what he's finding and where he's going as he discovers all that the town and the surrounding areas have to offer....from houses of historical note, to national trust gardens, to investigating local fairs and festivals, to attempts to ingratiate himself with the local folk....
The Ship Inn management take no responsibility for his views...
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The Return of GE
I'm at my new abode today and it seems that enemy no 1 'Ground Elder' thought it could slip back while I have been busy creating raised beds of such solidity that they would stop tanks more effectively than those kulfi shaped concrete blocks that litter local paths and gardens. Not so. Looking round for a modest afternoon challenge I have spent an intense hour under the magnolia dealing with minor GE return. After a while the silence, usually only broken by an autistic dove which seems to eternally say More Buoyancy, gave way to distant rumbling which proved to be fairly distant thunder. This is a splendid all weather garden because one can work away under a leafy tree oblivious to the rain refreshing the more needy parts. I really wanted sunshine today because my first tomato has started to turn, if not red, then at least orange. And now I think it's time for lapsang and scone for the clock stands at ten to three here...
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Rural pleasures and surprises
I have just been found out as a City person despite my new persona as pursuer of the Good Life in Rye. Deciding to slip on my wellies to go and throw a tarpaulin over the railway sleepers I don't want to expand before I have finished fastening together as raised beds I picked up the first one. Conveniently left by the front door of the cottage only to wonder why it felt so heavy.
I actually thought - foolish country virgin - that some kind neighbout or friend had called when I was out with a bottle of chilled Vigognier or a refreshing Veuve. But reaching inside to retrieve the bottle I was greeted by sllmy water that had filtered through the wisteria round the roof. So now to wash the wellies out. Getting accustomed to rain in Rye is a completely new experience for one who has only lived here for six weeks.
Heigh ho
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Rye Mole visits London...
Today's oblique view of the world was taken during an away day viewing the grand attic sale of the Spencer family at Christie's. Checking out the uniforms hanging in colourful rows, representing ones worn as a Life Guard's officer commanding a royal escort, as Lord Lieutenant of Northamtonahire, as Lord Chamberlain etc I couldn't help (particularly as a modest hotelier) noticing some reposing on hangers from the Grosvenor House Hotel and the Victoria Hotel. Even Earls and Viscounts can occasional pack up hotel fittings - but I suppose it was a valet who knew no better?
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Shock & Awe
It's tea break time for the attack force destroying Ground Elder at the new house, and I feel we are doing well. Today's mission is to reclaim from GE all that patch to the left of the garden path where the enemy has been choking the roses. There was some early resistance but really GE didn't know what was about to hit and, after years of the previous owner's light touch approach to weeds it really has found the new Destroy and Reclaim Regime too tough to oppose. So far the only major injury has occurred when the attacker moved sharply backwards and came into contact with a newly liberated rose whose sharp thorns tasted blood for the first time in years. Next of kin have been informed and the wounds are relatively slight. These kinds of friendly fire incidents do happen even in the best organised campaigns. I am aided in my task by the resident blackbird which comes very close to the action to gorge on worms released from GE's grip. A young robin has also been hanging about but so far has shown little gumption (I like that word). And now back to work.
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Do's and dont's
Even though I thought my walk out to Camber and back was harmless I found a way of trangressing again. Still it was only a small amount of fennel for personal use. I had considered uprooting one but with no more tools than a couple of small shells it looked a task too far. Thank goodness for my lack of determination. As I walked back along the cycle track a middle aged man with no shirt, a straw hat, a German Shepherd and a greyhound said "Enjoy your walk to Camber?" I replied that I did and began to tell him how I had walked out among a bank by the golf course but he said " Oh, yes I saw you earlier on your way out from the other side of the river". Probably he will already have informed on my herb appropriation to the local environmental police.
It was fun seeing the wind surfers on the lake. When one whizzed along and fell over at speed I thought it was some terrible accident because he seemed to have drowned but it happened then several times and do I guess it's a water version of my way of stopping when ski-ing downhill by aiming for a tree.
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Great Dixter is marvellous
A wonderous mix of control and nature. The first sign says it all "Please keep off The Long Grass". The lady who greeted me (oh, a Friend!) Seems to think she owns the house although old Bob who sells second hand tools, books etc in the coach park when there are no coaches assures me she thinks she was Christopher Lloyd's wife. Nonsense he says: he never married (as evidenced no doubt by the photos of him with bouffon white hair, dilapidated sandals and clutching his pet dachshund "Dahlia").
From Bob I bought a large tool box of tools for £10, two old tobacco tins of nails for £2 (tins to be sold, nails to use) and a first edition in dw of John Keay's Into India.
And now I've found a good tea shop in Tenterden. Just as occasionally one finds the nest where the wasps all originate I note the Mobility centre here where the halt and lame are kitted out and despatched to Rye on busy afternoons. I also like the humour of the computer shop called P C Weald.
And still the sun shines
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