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.
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!)
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.
As a columnist for The People’s Friend, I was asked to contribute to a feature about World Book Day.
The Friend, the world’s longest-running weekly magazine for women, is supporting the National Year of Reading campaign and did I have a favourite children’s book I’d like to share?
The idea of entering new lands through the portal of an ordinary piece of bedroom furniture was pure magic. I’m still convinced Narnia was modelled on my part of Dorset.
Sadly, another contributor had already chosen that book, so I had to come up with another.
As the youngest of five, I had free access to books handed down by my older siblings. My mother also took me to the town library every few weeks, as a reward for visiting an elderly great-aunt who lived in dark rooms behind a shop in the main street.
Enid Blyton’s Tales of Long Ago fuelled my interest in ancient mythology, particularly the Greek stories.
I loved The Hobbit and still have a ragged copy I received for a prize at school speech day. The little person embarking on a perilous journey, triumphing and returning home to the easy comfort of the Shire.
Anything that took me to magic lands, like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) by Lewis Carroll, and The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley (1863). Mrs Do-As-You-Would-Be-Done-By is still, for me, the most influential character in the history of children’s literature.
But, of all the books I’d read as a child, which one inspired me the most?
And then it came to me.
There it was in the glass-fronted cupboard, sitting next to its sequel.
A hardback book called Clover Magic (1955) by Victoria Stevenson and sumptous illustrations by Pauline Baynes, an artist who became well known for her cover illustrations for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, and for her map of Middle Earth.
It’s a children’s time travel story in which, with the help of Fairy Queen Titania and a four-leaf clover, two young sisters meet great women of English history, including Boadicea, Elizabeth Fry and Florence Nightingale.
A few years ago, I found a copy of this book online so I snapped it up, along with its sequel, The Magic Footstool.
It’s a book I treasure and, looking at it now, I realise it sparked my interest in history and the role of strong women through the ages.
So, if you had to choose one book from your childhood, which one would it be and why?
For just shy of a year, I’ve been doing a daily pop quiz online called Popquizza.
I can’t be bothered with Wordle (sorry!) and Sudoko brings me out in a rash (maths?) but give me ten random questions on pop music and it gets the old brain cogs whirring every morning.
Depending on the era, I usually manage to do reasonably well, my pop music knowledge informed by being the youngest of five and the child of parents who liked anything from the musicals of Rodgers and Hammerstein and Gustav Holst’s The Planets to Joan Baez and Elias and his Zig-Zag Jive Flutes.
In our house, it was anything from The Everly Brothers, Joni Mitchell, Lou Reed, The Brothers Johnson, Somerset folk songs and Steely Dan, depending on the sibling.
And then I came along, loved all of it and added my own punk and ska twist and then, latterly, techno and electronica.
So when a friend put me on to the daily quiz, it seemed like a good idea at the time. But I realise now that I have whole gaps in my pop music knowledge, which corresponds with being a grown-up and not caring very much.
I’ve had a few ten out of tens but, for some unknown reason, I keep getting a five or, as I like to say ‘foive’ in honour of Janice Nicholls who said famously ‘oi’ll give it foive’ on Thank Your Lucky Stars, a remark which apparently catapulted the 16-year-old Black Country clerk to fame.
According to Nostalgiacentral.com, she remained a regular on Thank Your Lucky Stars for three years, and her phrase entered British colloquial speech.
The show concluded in the summer of 1966, when I was coming up to foive. I don’t even remember it. But clearly it entered my family’s colloquial speech, because we’re still saying it now.
I’m sure you’ll be thanking me for that earworm today. You’re welcome.
Maddie Grigg 