Feeling blue

Everybody feels a little blue sometimes, don’t they?  This summerhouse is enough to make your heart sink.  It sits forlornly in the corner of a large and overgrown garden at Loughbrow House in Hexham.  It wasn’t always like this but the owner is now aged 92, a proud, upright lady who loves and manages her garden to the best of her ability.  It was opened for charity at the weekend and I’m sure lots of money was made.  A highlight of the garden is the Lutyens inspired rill with grass topped bridges.  Here’s a peep.

This week Patti is sharing a surreal shade of beautiful Blue in the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge.

Jo’s Monday walk : Alte and about

Fonte Pequena at Alte

One of the great things about our Algarve walking group is the knowledge we can share.  Walking one day in Spring I was talking to a lovely lady called Stephanie.  She mentioned a favourite walk which included an abandoned, ruined village, and later sent me an email with a map.  So it was that, heading west for a wine tasting, we decided to seek out the village.  Just one problem- I didn’t have the map with me.  But I did have some scribbled instructions, which I thought should do.  The start was in pretty as a picture Alte, which we know well.

I always want to linger by Fonte Pequena, the smaller of the two natural springs, but my notes said to cross over the bridge and follow the signs for Julia.  Not paying attention, as usual, I turned left instead of right.  When the track became perilous and tangled with scratchy shrubs, I realised my mistake.  Back down and turn right.  Boa Vista beckoned, from the top of a seriously steep hill.  Lovely views, and a stunning passion flower.

A sign at the hilltop indicated that it was just 1.6km to Julia.  Being June it was a little too hot for hiking and I was grateful for any shade I could find.  At the edge of the village I hesitated, unsure of which way, but a villager pointed us in the right direction.  So far so good!  Down through the small cluster of houses we went, scrambling a bit as we hit some loose rocks.  Just as I was beginning to get in a lather, we came to the main road, N124.  An accusing look from the other half!  ‘Couldn’t we have driven here?’  An all too familiar scenario.  ‘But where’s the fun in that?’

The road was empty, but shade was non-existent.  A cowardly decision was about to be made.  Or should I say, good sense prevailed?  The signpost indicated 4km down a dirt track to Esteval dos Mouros, the ruined village.  Neither of us fancied getting hotter and stickier, and we still had the wine tasting venue to find.  The ruins would have to keep for a cooler day.

Back into Alte, hugging the sidewalk for shade.  The spring gurgled down the hill, vivid lemon cactus flowers blinking in the sunlight.  A relief to enter the cheerful pastelaria.  There’s just time for a morsel of cake.

Back on the road, Quinta do Francês proved tricky to find and we arrived with minutes to spare.  A very pleasurable time was spent wine tasting, but I was reluctant to bring an end to such a lovely day.  Our route home took us through Silves, where a striking mural caught my eye.  A quiet stroll by the river and beneath the jacarandas brought the day to a perfect close.

Linking this to Sami’s Monday Murals, where a bunch of like-minded people love to share.  I hope she won’t mind.  I had hoped to see Stephanie when the Algarve walkers met at Bolton Abbey in Yorkshire this week, as she lives nearby.  If she’s reading this I can assure her that we’ll be back to complete her walk this Autumn.  In the meantime I shall be sharing some English walks.

Next weekend is our wedding anniversary and I’m dragging him off up the Northumberland coast.  I hope to schedule a walk for next Monday, but my response rate may not be great as I’ll be in transit.

Many thanks to all of you who contribute and comment to keep my Monday walks alive.  I appreciate your company so much.  How can I possibly quit with you folks to spur me on?  Join me here any time.  Kettle on now, and settle in for a read :

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How fascinating is this, our starter from Rupali?

Monday walk to “the Norwegian book town”

And these botanical gardens are rather special too.  Take a look with Miriam :

Jo’s Monday Walk : Huntington Library 

If I was looking for a piece of real estate, and I had lots of money in my pocket… I’d join Alice!

A walk on Queen Street

The things Janet gets up to in Wyoming!

Monday walk…to the phone booth

Lady Lee has been gadding about again!  🙂  🙂

Our long weekend in Cologne and Bonn

Time to write : Picture Prompt 19 (Creative Writing Prompt) – Gin, Rex and Niki

And as for Jackie, what’s on the menu this week?  Sounds good!

Jambalaya Crawfish Pie and File Gumbo

Melodie takes us hiking and then for a swim, in a quieter part of the English Lake District :

Orthwaite

Or you can enjoy a glorious splash of colour with Drake!

Color Inferno

Koalas and kangaroos!  This is a very cuddlesome post from Carol, though maybe not the echidna!

Feathers and Fur

Eunice is definitely an animal lover too, and she likes a good ramble :

Jumbles Reservoir – a long walk

‘Far from the madding crowd’ with Cathy, in the most beautiful scenery!

The Devil’s Garden Hike at Arches

I’ve watched TV coverage from the Algarve these past couple of days, and am horrified at the fires engulfing swathes of the countryside that I love.  What sad times for so many!

Six word Saturday

Tasting the fruit of the vine

One of our loveliest days on our recent Algarve visit took us to Quinta do Francês, on a wine-tasting tour.  ‘Awful!’ I hear you exclaim.  As the visit was a present from our son and partner, we felt duty bound to attend, and to sample the produce.  It really was rather nice!

The winery is owned by French pathologist, Patrick Agostini, and the wines grown locally in the Odelouca River Valley.  Our guide Tania was knowledgeable and interesting.  We toured the machine room and the cellar, where barrels of new and aged oak are kept.  And then, the tasting!

I could just fancy a glass…  Six Words, of course!  Debbie has cash in pocket and another brilliant six words this week.  Don’t forget to join her.  But first I would like to say a huge thank you to all of you who commented on What do you want from me? this week. The response was simply overwhelming.  I guess I’ll carry on, doing what I do.

What do you want from me?

The salt pans at Tavira, with an unusual pink tint

Maybe this is a question I should have asked long ago.  But to ask it, you first have to think of it.  Browsing in WordPress Discover I found lots of articles dedicated to improving your blog.  The suggestion that your focus be more on the reader than on yourself was one that made me think.  I tend to think of myself as someone who likes the sound of her own voice, and this is certainly true of my blog.  My scribbles are mostly anecdotal and in diary form, and they help to keep my travels alive for me.  They are my ‘unique voice’.  But is that enough?

The marshes come alive with colour in the summer

Is this really what the readership wants?  Is it too much of me, and not enough about them and what they want to read about?  It’s quiet around the blogs at the moment, and I start to wonder if I’ve become boring.  Have I assumed that my style of writing will carry me through, when people are hoping for more facts/more fantasy/more information?  Do I give enough?

The long view
A fishing boat heads out to sea, passing the jetty at Quatro Aguas

I look at the bloggers I admire and it’s true that many of them have a more factual basis to their blog.  I can protest that I’m an individual and that this is my space, but is that sufficient for you?  I am sometimes approached to work with marketing companies.  Would this result in a loss of identity, or might it benefit the reader?  Am I right to stick to doing things my way?

I love this light over Tavira

So, what do you think?  Now is a good time to ask, because I’m not sure that this blog will continue after I move to Tavira.  Most certainly there will be changes to be made, but I would like to take you along with me.

Jo’s Monday walk : Sunrise on the Salt Pans

I sometimes do daft things!  When I saw a sunrise walk featured in Tavira, in Todos a Caminhar, I just knew I had to do it.  I’ve always wanted to live beside a beach, so that I could slip outside into that beguiling early morning light.  My reality is far from that, but a 20 minute stroll will bring me to the riverside, and beyond, a world of salt marshes and oyster catchers.

Trying not to disturb a certain person, I tiptoed down the stairs at 5.45, gulped a few mouthfuls of coffee, and out into the mild, morning air.  I thought I had made good time down to the Praca, but when I got there the place was deserted.  I hadn’t been sure how many other enthusiasts to expect, but the streets of Tavira were Sunday morning sleepy.  Just as I was deciding what to do, a lady in joggers sprinted into the square, threw off her jacket and made off at speed.  It was 6.18am!   I had missed the start by three minutes.  And sure enough, the sun was just starting to rise.

I had no intention of hot footing it after them.  I had all this to myself!  In lazy pursuit, I ambled out along the river.  The soft light pearled the water, the stillness unbroken.  Even the birds were enjoying a Sunday snooze.

As I reached the edge of the salt pans I smiled to myself.  There in the distance, lycra clad figures sped towards me.  All of this seemed wasted on them.  I continued to stroll and snap.  As they straggled past me, in twos and threes, I smiled ‘Bom dia!’ but most were focused on home.

Across the salt pans there was just enough light to reflect Tavira in the water.  Ahead, the small marina and boatyard of Quatro Aguas.  It’s a place that I love, but I had never seen it in such opalescent light.

Enjoying the early morning mellow.  Gently I retraced my steps, in the ever increasing light.  Mauve crept into the heather and bronze lit the sandbanks.  I played at being a birder for a while, an obliging chap posing for me.  The wrecked mill drew closer.

And then I was back in town, and crossing the flyover.  A fisherman, releasing his boat to catch the tide.  Passing the common, a strange sight caught my eye.  An inverted Minnie Mouse, remnant of last night’s festival revelry, perhaps?

An elderly gentleman with a nice smile had also observed the balloon.  As I stopped to take the shot, an agitated shrieking filled the air.  Body taut and wings beating rapidly, it flew overhead again and again.  I supposed it must have had young close by.  Feeling like an intruder, I wearily returned home, where all was still silent.  Time to put the kettle on and start the day.

I hope you enjoyed watching the sun rise with me.  I’d like to add it to Cathy’s Photographic challenge at Wander.essence.  She’s doing some fine work over there.  I tried to bring the salt marshes alive for you.  I’m half-tempted to add this to Tina’s Soft too.  I hope she won’t mind.  The light on the water was so very soft that morning.  Are you following the Lens Artists?

Many thanks to all of you who accompany me each week.  My wanderings would be nothing without you.  Join me here any time.

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Let’s start with Lady Lee and an outing to the park :

Skywatch – our day out

Alice invites you to ‘smell the flowers’.  It’s that time of year, isn’t it?

Delaware Park- Buffalo NY

Some people say I have too many of these, but Jackie’s a lady who knows all about food :

Tea Break

A world far removed from my experience.  Let Janet take you there :

Monday walk…. sites and sights of Sheridan

Nothing I like better than going adventuring with Drake :

Bay of Kiel

Geoff rediscovers the delights of the Kent coast :

Thanet, a Walk on the Not so Wild Side #walking#kent

And Eunice shares some local history and a pleasant walk :

A local walk to Hall i’ th’ Wood

The heat has been getting to them in Norfolk, I think, but Janaline makes the most of this garden tour :

A walk through West Acre Garden in Norfolk

Fancy walking a race circuit?  Let Jaspa take you to Monaco!

Walking the Epic Monaco Formula 1 Grand Prix Racetrack

I always love Aarti’s style :

Walk in a Monasterio

A very different monastery experience from Banactee, dipping back into memory :

Climbing on Mt. Sinai

And finally, another enthralling outing with Cathy.  The scenery is superb!

Strolling along Park Avenue at Arches

That’s all folks!  Wishing you a wonderful week.  Hope you can get out and about a bit.  See you next week!

Six word Saturday

Taking time to relax in Tavira.

You knew I couldn’t resist it, didn’t you?  I feel relaxed just looking at these.  Warm summer evenings in Tavira.  Magical moments.

I can just squeeze this in before the next Lens Artists Photo Challenge.  Thanks, Amy!  I wonder what’s coming next?  I couldn’t possibly disagree with Debbie this week.  Got your Six Words ready?  Wishing you a happy Saturday, and rain for those who need it.

Relaxing in Nottingham

Behold, Alan Sillitoe!

Tempting though it is to share relaxing, riverside images of Tavira, I thought I’d indulge in a little tram spotting in Nottingham instead.  Now, I know tram spotting isn’t everybody’s idea of relaxation, but I’m reluctant to let go of time spent with my daughter.  And the wine bar that was our first port of call (That gives a terrible impression, doesn’t it?  But probably the correct one 🙂 ) was conveniently located, right beside the tramlines.

We had already debated the ‘Pitcher and Piano’, a favourite venue, inside that church that you’re looking at, but opted instead for a sunny corner to catch up on life.  I’ve always loved trams and Lisa humoured me, as I bobbed up and down to read the names.  The trams are named after local heroes of past or present.  Robin Hood, of course.  Brian Clough and Rebecca Adlington from the sports world.  Lord Byron and his daughter Ada Lovelace.  D.H. Lawrence and Alan Sillitoe.  All spotted, and more besides.  My one regret, I didn’t see Torvill and Dean!

Nottingham is never short of quirky in any respect, and as we ambled the streets towards home I recorded a few random impressions.  Mosaic seemed to be big news in Sherwood, a very crafty area.

Nottingham lace
A stylish violin…and more lace!
Thank you very much!
Love the birdie!
An ingenious hanging basket
Plant pot?

And just for those people who think I exist on cake, we did manage some nourishment, along with the wine.

I had a lovely, relaxing time in Nottingham.  No cooking, no cleaning, wonderful company!  The Sunday morning of my return home, I suggested brunch as a treat on the way into town.  The food was great, but we did wonder why the place was so busy.

It’s Amy’s turn to host the Lens Artists Photo Challenge this week.  I hope she won’t mind my rather frivolous version of Time to Relax.

Jo’s Monday walk : Elvaston Castle Country Park

In between visiting Poland and the Algarve, I managed to slip in 4 days with my daughter, in Nottingham.  Knowing that I like to get out and about, one day she suggested a visit to Elvaston Castle Country Park.  We had no real idea what to expect, but the Gothic revival masterpiece, staring at us across a mound of topiary, was a promising start.  Part of a 321 acre estate, Elvaston Castle was designed by James Wyatt in the early 1800s, around a house dating from 1633.  For 400 years it was home to the Stanhope family, later to become the Earls of Harrington.

Today’s walk is extremely green.  I know that many of you have singed, brown grass right now, and might regard this as a refreshing change.  The country park had a slightly neglected air, but many families were happily picnicking in the grounds, and I was glad to read that a renovation plan is underway.  In 1970, when the estate was opened, it was one of the first country parks in England.  Both buildings and gardens are Grade 2 listed.  Behind the house are a church and graveyard.

Circling the house, we noted tea rooms, and eyes lit up at the prospect of cake.  Looking in the windows, Lisa remembered that she’d been here once, long ago, for a wedding.  I don’t know if it was the topiary, but there was a distinctly Alice in Wonderland feel to the gardens.

On to the lakeside, where the rockwork captured our imagination.  Tufa, gritstone and gypsum were used to create arches and grottoes, framing a view and lending an air of enchantment.  My very own woodland elf was right at home….

Paths meander all around the lake, and beneath the trees. My squirrel friend scampered away up a tree, but then thought better of it and returned to finish his lunch, defiantly keeping an eye on me.

Set deep within the woods, a Moorish Temple stands tall and hauntingly silent.  Built as a summer house around 1846, it has fallen into disrepair.  Apparently it featured in Ken Russell’s 1969 film, ‘Women in Love’, with Glenda Jackson in a balcony scene.

Time to inspect the tearooms, and step back in time.  The age of the building was apparent but sympathetic restoration could easily bring it to life.

If you’re interested in garden history I found a fascinating document within the Derbyshire council website.  If not, simply sit back and enjoy the faded grandeur of the Old English walled garden.  Once it provided fruit and vegetables for the family, many of them grown within glasshouses.  William Barron, Head Gardener in 1830, transformed the original walled garden with innovative drainage and heating systems, allowing six varieties of grape to flourish.  Traces of it linger still.

I hope you enjoyed ambling with me.  Many more details, including directions, are to be found on the Derbyshire website.

More wonderful walks to share this week.  Pop that kettle on and settle in for a read.  The world will wait!  Many thanks to all of you.

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I always like to start off with a beauty, and Debbie never disappoints :

Hilly walk in Korea’s Machu Picchu

Did you meet Mel last week?  Let her take you shopping in style.  I do like an arcade!

Looking up in Melbourne

I’m not much of a shopper, nor much of a cook, but Jackie is well capable in both departments :

Novel meals

Lady Lee cooks too, and is content and happy with her bounty :

Ten things of thankful

Home sweet home with Drake, in Denmark :

Idyllic village

Rupali works just down the road from some glorious scenery!

My Monday walk: Nothing so special

Pure contentment in South Carolina, with Alice and family :

Morning beach walk

Or a double explosion of fun and colour with Pauline and Jack, Down Under :

Queensland Garden Expo…

What the little bird whispered in Jack’s ear

Cathy’s in training for the Camino in September.  This one doesn’t look an easy hike, but much shorter!

The Delicate Arch hike at Arches National Park

Much closer to home, Eunice rounds us off this week :

A summer afternoon in Southport

That’s it for another week.  Sounds like it’s going to be a hot one, so take care!  Join me next time on Jo’s Monday walk.

Six word Saturday

Kynren – an epic tale of England!

The pageantry begins
Setting the scene
A charioteer leads the procession
Standard bearers
And the support act!

From one local extravaganza to another!  Last week, the Tall Ships.  This week, I give you Kynren.  Performed by a cast of locals and volunteers, in the grounds of Auckland Castle, Bishop Auckland, I was enormously impressed.  A history of England, the action was fast-paced.  I apologise that many of my shots are blurred.  Please follow the captions.

A pleasant evening stroll leads down to the grounds
Beyond the lake, the Tribune awaits
And ‘cast members’ enjoy a snack

A dramatic sunset heralds the performance

Children arrive with paper birds
And shepherds
Making a run for it!
Lookout duty
Halt! Who goes there?
Intruders?
Ceremonial reception
Marching
Jousting- too quick to catch!
Dancing fountains
Banners aloft, it’s time to go

For an hour and a half the action unfolded before our eyes, building to a crescendo of lazer beams and fireworks.  It was beautifully done.

Astounding moment when Stephenson’s ‘Rocket’ chuffs in!
And then the riders gallop wildly past
Followed sedately by coach and horses
A very grand affair
A crescendo of fireworks and dazzle
And then a hush, as the smoke fades to pink haze

2,000 years of history, myth and legend, performances run until 15th September.  Meanwhile, Debbie has some exciting news to share in her Six Words this Saturday.  Why not join her?  Have a happy weekend!

On Journey : Inflight blues
Taking off over the salt pans at Faro
Goodbye, Algarve!

‘Excuse me… why are you polishing the window?’  The young man was tall and pale, squashed into his seat beside me on our Ryanair flight from Faro to Leeds.  That was how our conversation began.  I’ve had many on board exchanges over time, but this young man and his troubles really touched me.  I was at the back of the aircraft and my husband far away at the front, because we are too mean to pay the extra to sit together.  We can cope with separation for a couple of hours, and on this occasion I had the compensation of a window seat.  Which is how I came to be polishing my smeary window.

Glancing at him, I replied ‘Because I like to take photos’.  Fair haired and blue-eyed, he nodded.  ‘That makes sense’.  He seemed eager to chat and we exchanged a few details till he sat back, with a sigh.  I thought maybe he was an anxious flier.  We hadn’t yet taken off when he reached beneath the seat and pulled out a full sized wine bottle.  Glugging at it greedily, the flight crew still about to start the safety demonstration.  Time for some friendly advice!  ‘You’re not allowed to drink your own alcohol on board’, I said, feeling a bit hypocritical because, for the first time ever, I had purchased a small rosé in the Duty Free, intending to drink it with my sandwich.  He looked at me.  ‘I need it!’  In a polite, conversational way he explained to me that he has an addictive personality, currently using alcohol, and that he has an appointment with the family doctor in Leeds tomorrow to check him into rehab.

A moment later he was on his phone, to a friend.  I assumed it was a friend.  In close proximity it’s impossible not to overhear someone’s conversation.  I looked out of the window as we began to taxi along the runaway.  He was talking urgently to Tom.  ‘You are going to meet me?  You promised!  My Dad will give you a lift to the airport’.  Almost pleading.  He was near to tears when he switched off the phone.  Out poured the story.  He was gay, and it was hard to trust anybody.  His boyfriend was supposed to bring drugs to the airport to help him till he could see his GP, but he hadn’t got them.  He was desperate to give up alcohol because it was ruining his life.  He had been terrified they wouldn’t let him on the plane home if he was drunk, but his friends had helped him board.  He had spoiled their holiday because he had no self control.

The plane was now in the air, so all he had to do was appear sober a little while longer.  He was waiting anxiously for trolley service to begin, and we talked.  I felt so sorry for him.  25 years old!  I wondered how I could bear it if my own son was in his situation.  He said that he had a good family, and that they would help, if only he could get home.  The middle child, his siblings were successful.  He had managed to work sometimes, but had spent most of his life addicted to drugs, whatever he could get his hands on.  He’d tried to ‘give up’ numerous times.  This time it had to work because his life was completely out of control.

The lakes beside the River Guadiana

He’d been to the Algarve several times before and liked the place and the people.  He was interested in the landscape unfolding below us, and was amazed at the vast area of lakes along the border.  When the trolley pulled alongside he ordered 2 beers and a wine.  I asked if he should have something to eat but he said it was better this way.  He had to drink himself into oblivion and he would sleep.  He downed one can in seconds and slumped back.  Beads of sweat had broken out on his face.  ‘Are you alright, sir?’ asked the air hostess.  He struggled to answer, and she gently informed him that she wouldn’t be able to sell him any more alcohol.  I smiled, despite myself.  After a while he drank the small bottle of wine, and soon his eyes had rolled.  Unless it’s cloudy I’m usually glued to my window throughout a flight, but I couldn’t settle.  I kept watch as he slept, hoping he could make it through the flight.

He jerked half awake, and groped for the remaining can, spilling much of it in his haste.  A male crew member went past and gave him a disgusted look.  I felt defensive for him and wanted to explain that he couldn’t help it.  The stupor overtook him again, mercifully.  With 20 minutes to go, he woke.  The captain had just announced our descent and, with relief, he reached beneath the seat for the last of his wine.  The crew man was just passing back through the cabin, reached over and took it from his hands.  ‘I must have it!’, he protested, to no avail.

We talked some more.  I asked if he would need assistance to get off the plane and he agreed.  He gave me the name of one of his party, a girl, sitting much further down the plane and said he thought she would help.  When we landed, I climbed past him and went to seek the help of the crew man.  Though sceptical, he noted the details.  I went back to say my goodbyes, to wish him luck and to hope that he could get his life back in order   ‘You’re a really nice lady’, he said.  I so hope that his family have been able to help him.  He seemed a really nice boy.

I would probably have kept this sad story to myself if it hadn’t been for Cathy.  I thought it might work for her On Journey invitation, over at Wander.essence.  She has the makings of a novel over there, and much else besides.