Dorset is beautiful

We’re part way through English Tourism Week.

You might not have known this, as most ‘weeks’ begin on a Monday and finish on a Sunday.

But being English, and maybe a bit eccentric, this official week, which shines a spotlight on all the lovely things on offer for the tourist in England, started last Friday (13 March) and runs through until this coming Sunday, 22 March.

Most weeks last seven days, but this one goes on for 10 days.

I don’t know why but I’m assuming it’s because the dates incorporate two weekends, which gives visitors more time to time to explore this beautiful country of ours.

And, despite the naysayers and doom mongers, England is a beautiful country and, when you think of the rubbish going on all over the world, we’re very lucky to live here.

Yes, it has its faults (where doesn’t?) and the weather can be a bit iffy, but all the beauty of this earth is right on – or not far from – our doorsteps.

Here in the south west, we’re blessed with a wonderfully long and varied coastline, and the most sumptuous hinterland anyone could wish for.

It’s the season when daffodils are in full bloom, the primroses are lining the grassy banks, the birds are chirruping and excited about the arrival of spring. And it won’t be long before the trees will burst forth with green leaves and the damp, grey winter is long forgotten.

According to the Visit Britain website, tourism is one of England’s largest, most valuable industries, supporting hundreds of thousands of small-to-medium sized businesses, over two million jobs and generating about £127 billion annually for the economy.

And Dorset is no exception.

“Our visitor economy is vital – it sustains vibrant rural and coastal communities and contributes £1.73 billion to the Dorset economy while supporting 30,000 jobs,” says Dorset Council leader Nick Ireland.

As an interloper from Somerset, I’ve been in Dorset for the past forty-four years. And despite travelling here, there and everywhere, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here, hidden away and tucked under the radar in Lush Places.

Happy Mothering Sunday

By Mary Cassatt – Painting, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4667747

Here’s to mothers past and present and mothers-to-be on this special Sunday.

It’s the first year without my mother. But I was blessed to have her in my life for many, many years, as she lived to a ripe old age.

We always used to take Mum out for a meal on Mothering Sunday. It’s a lovely way to say thank you, a good excuse for a celebration and a great way to support the struggling hospitality trade.

It was also a wonderful get-together with my siblings. Still, there’s nothing to stop us doing that at any time.

But Mother’s Day always gave us the focus to get on and organise something. And we always were able to do it weeks – or months – ahead.

This year, I’m going for a lovely pub roast with Number One Daughter and family. I’m very much looking forward to it.

Mind you, if I hadn’t been invited, we would probably be right here in Lush Places, where the community pub will be busy today with guest chef Tom and his sister.

Three years ago, their special menu went down a treat. And I can vouch for that because I was there with my late mother.

Have a great Sunday and a lovely week.

Love, Maddie x

Three blue bottles*

I changed over my handbag at the weekend, thinking that spring might be here. It wasn’t.

But things must be looking up because I found a £20 note in one of the pockets.

So I went to Crewkerne to the Antiques Bazaar, a wonderful emporium of eclectic bits and pieces sold by a collective of traders.

Over the years, I’ve bought some lovely items here but, sadly, the place is closing down, so there were plenty of bargains to be had.

I found a trio of Old England jugs in a vivid blue and, because they were half price, I swooped like the eager eagle I am when it comes to things like this.

Once home, I put them where I thought they would look right, but they stuck out like three blue sore thumbs.

And then I found the perfect spot, on the ledge of an internal window, sandwiched between three bottles of blue-coloured water. (The middle one is a vintage apothecary jar I bought many years ago at an auction of items from a former Bridport pharmacy.)

I’m now going through all the items of clothing in my wardrobe to see if there’s any more cash in the cupboards.

That’s about it.

See you on Sunday.

Love, Maddie x

* Jugs

The world is just a great big onion

There is a spring onion on the path to the church.

I’m not sure how it got there but maybe it’s a sign of spring.

I have visions of it having fallen from someone’s rustic basket as they made their way back from the community shop.

Maybe it made a break for freedom in a sort of stop-motion animation in the style of The Herbs, the children’s television programme by Michael Bond and starring Parsley the Lion, Dill the Dog, the rather fat feathery owl called Sage and those cheeky little Chives belonging to Mr and Mrs Onion, along with a bunch of other herbal characters.

In this episode, the Chives catch a cold.

And to think as children we were captivated by this show. Still, it helped me know my onions (and herbs) and I can still sing the song pertaining to each character.

I’m Dill the Dog, I’m a dog called Dill…though my tail I’d love to get, I’ve never caught it yet!

I’m Bayleaf, I’m the gardener, I work from early dawn, you’ll find me sweeping up the leaves and tidying the lawn…

I’m Constable Knapweed, and I keep law and order. I watch to see that all is well along the garden border.

The spring onion on the path to the church is silent though, probably embarrassed at being named after a season which can’t make up its mind if it’s coming or going.

It was fine earlier this week but now it looks like we’re back to winter again.

I fully expect to find winter greens waltzing along the path the next time I go that way.

See you later in the week.

Love, Maddie x

* The world is just a great big onion / And hate and fear are the spices that make you cry, oh, baby / And the only way to get rid of this great big onion / Is to plant love seeds until it dies, uh huh (woo!)

International Women’s Day

Reently, a close friend asked me which women inspired me when I was growing up.

I had to think hard because there are lots of women (and men) who are inspirational figures.

I suppose my late mother, who died last summer at the grand old age of ninety-nine, is probably my leading light.

Unassuming, a quiet thirst for knowledge and a calm, kind wisdom were her standout features, along with a ‘just-get-on-and-do-it’ approach to life.

A strong sense of community, a love of the rural landscape and a curiosity and desire to keep up with new technology if it meant improved communication with her family of children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and far-flung relatives in Canada, Australia and the USA.

Another inspiration for me was my mum’s older sister, my late Auntie Marj. She was my favourite of the aunts – flamboyant, community-minded, kind and an unapologetic love for fashion and frippery. She once gave me an 1950s Hardy Amies dogtooth check suit, with a velvet-collared jacket and a nipped-in waist.

I wore it to work in the 1980s and 90s, and, later, it took pride of place in my wardrobe until the moths got hold of it.

But I still have the original 1920s flapper dress Auntie Marj was given by two elderly neighbours I called the Dilly Sisters after the duo that were on The Banana Splits and sang The Mexican Hat Dance and Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay.

From the Dilly Sisters to women from history (sorry, it’s how my mind works).

One woman who was an unlikely inspiration for me was Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII, who was beheaded because the tyrant king wanted a son and heir, and someone else (Jane Seymour) had already taken his fancy.

I always felt history treated her very badly and that one day a more sympathetic portrait of her might emerge.

My interest stemmed from her portrayal by Dorothy Tutin, second left below) in The Six Wives of Henry VIII on BBC in early 1970.

I was eight. It made a great impression on me.

A few years later, probably on television, I saw the 1969 film, Anne of the Thousand Days, in which the beautiful Canadian actress Geneviève Bujold took the lead role opposite a handsome Richard Burton as Henry VIII.

It was a strange obsession, taking the side of this unpopular queen, but I’ve always been a sucker for an underdog. And even though Anne had a terrible death, she had the last laugh in the afterlife when her daughter Elizabeth went on to become the longest (and last) reigning monarch of the House of Tudor.

The idea of a woman being as powerful, if not more powerful, than her late ‘great’ father is extremely satisfying.

In all seriousness, International Women’s Day (March 8) is a global day celebrating the social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women. The day also marks a call to action for accelerating gender equality.

It began in 1911 yet there is still such a great need to shout out against bias, stereotypes and discrimination. Despite great worldwide strides, inequality exists everywhere, in so many walks of life.

Incidentally, International Men’s Day is on 14 November.