Wet feet on the stairs...

After earlier negative posts on English plumbing I should now eat humble pie and pledge my eternal devotion to bathtubs…

Last week my course on Building Conservation at West Dean College started in earnest.
Apart from the actual course I really looked forward to spending more time at the house itself…

The house is a wonderful place to just be. It is the ideal space to learn (in all her studios), study (great library in the old billiards room, including a nook) and spend time with a large variation of creative and cultural types (especially at the cheap college bar!).
The wet footprints of Tilly Losch (the last lady of the house) woven into the carpet on the stairs are only one of the many eccentric touches that surprise you when wandering around.

But this time for me the largest attraction must have been the shared bathroom.
In it was the most enormous Edwardian Bath.
It was the first time since I was a little girl that I actually could float full length in the tub.
And just to add to the experience the original fittings revealed a strange looking tap, with a sweet note on it:

But it is me, I am your plug!
Push and turn me and I will keep your water for you.
Turn and pull me up, and I will soak it all up!

Imagine this one steamy and filled with bubbles....

All of a sudden I remembered the incredible bath described in ‘The Bolter’, a freestanding green onyx monolith at Idina Sackville-West’s Kenyan house.
She made it part of the daily attractions of being her guest.  As part of the experience she would invite her guests to witness her bathe and dress before dinner…

Lying in that West Dean bath I could imagine how roaring the 20′s really must have been.

Hahah, shows you the importance of actually experiencing old buildings and places for yourself.
Even if the National Trust now occasionally allows visitors to sit on their sofas, it will take a little more before we will be allowed to have a proper soak!

My American alter ego...

Yesterday I found a great blog, writing about the weird country I am from. It is quite funny to find someone else’s collection of thoughts on Dutch idiosyncrasies.

Enjoy: http://stuffdutchpeoplelike.com/

(I have to admit that their review on No.3 Hagelslag is much more thorough than mine…)
You live, you learn…

Casualty no.5...

Yesterday just seemed an endless day. Waiting for both arms to meet up at the top.
The final day of the year, and somehow it just seemed it didn’t get any later…

It took me till well into the night to find out my watch had stopped…

And yes… I know a swatch is a crumby cheap watch, it ticks too loud and is too large for my wrist. Worse, within a year I have already had to replace the strap and battery!
The local jeweler has stopped selling parts for these as they seem to be too bad quality.
Still, with all of my travel and cooking activities I do need one. I hate grasping for a device to tell the time.
(my watch is always local time wherever I am, while my laptop, ipad and phone vary depending on my departure and arrival needs. And with gps some of them automatically zone themselves…)

So I guess I will have to contemplate an upgrade.
What would be sturdy enough to survive my lifestyle, yet not un-clunky enough to fit my wrist?
To be continued…

This is how my coffee arrived.

Cheers!

Hope you all had a lovely Christmas!

Only 2 more days left of this year…

The dear guy behind the counter…

…he asked me for ID.

Bless him.
(after the initial thrill of this request I found out I had in fact forgotten my ID at home. Still, going back home to get it still didn’t get the grin off my face!)

Sure, I feel half my age!

PS. thanks everyone for all the sweet Birthday wishes in this busy time.

PPS. Today I actually reached the age Marilyn had when she died…

Everything always improves with age… Next year is going to be exceptional!

Boom!

Today we reached 20.000 hits on this blog!
(considering I only started in April 2010 and I have written around 90 posts, that is pretty good going.)
So thanks to you all for your ideas and contributions, all around the world.

There will be more to come in the new year…

Happy New Year everyone!

Cages at the White Rabbit tea room.

Some time ago a good friend of mine from Paris told me the most exquisite story. It was one of those stories, where the pictures never ever really leave your head again:

She told me about her grandmother who had been a Persian noble woman, who had moved to Paris  with her Russian husband. The story she told me about her was that she would frequently go to a special Tea house in Paris where all the ladies would bring their birds, in their cages.
The birds would be hung up on the ceiling to sing to each other, while the ladies were seated below, gossiping and sipping their tea…

Admitted the walls need some help...

Needless to say I have searched for such a place, but never found it. Only online did I find a contemporary art gallery in Sydney that has antique cages in their tea room… I found the picture through a great tea blog: The Tea Urchin.

When living in Newport there was the most elegant tea house in the garden, with a domed ceiling, and windows on the four corners. The walls were covered in old Zuber hand painted wallpaper, showing birds and greenery. It had been my dream to change this tea house into a functioning room again. With antique cages on the ceiling and comfortable seats and tables scattered round below.

The original interior... Love the lantern.

This tea house in Newport is an early 20th century copy of the 18th century original summerhouse, designed by the great Salem, Massachusetts carver/architect Samuel McIntire for Capt. Derby’s summer farm in Danvers Massachusetts in 1795. A young lady who visited the estate in 1802 wrote of going upstairs to the room above, “The air from the windows is always pure and cool and the eye wanders with delight over the beautiful landscape below…The room is ornamented with some Chinese figures and seems calculated for serenity and peace.”

How wonderful would it be to drink tea there on a summer afternoon, listening to the birds while catching up on the latest news.

Well, one can dream, no? Tweet tweet.

First the eggs, now the chicken!

Ha-a-a-tchou!

There is a monster of a cold virus roaming through the Netherlands.

I am not sure how it entered the house, but now it has, it certainly is here to stay.

This one has it all, the teary eyes, the sneezing and sniveling, the clogged nose, muscles aching and a pounding head…

So I have done the only thing one can do…

Make chicken soup and stay warm.

The recipe I use is simple:

My kind of bird...

1. Put an old bird in a pot, add onions, garlic, loads of fresh thyme (as if you will taste anything) and water in a pot.
(I added some laurel and juniper berries for more flavour)
2. cook for 3 hours (get back to bed or read a book under a blanket)
3. scoop out the carcass, leave to cool.
4. Strain the stock while warm (to get rid of any loose onion skins etc.)
5. once the carcass is cool enough, pick off all the meat from the carcass and add back into the strained stock.
6. add salt and pepper to taste (you could add vegetables, rice or noodles if you like, but I prefer plain.)
7. reheat soup when necessary (it will get better every time you reheat it.)

Feeling better already!

Hatchou!
(or may be not)

Old balls.

Last week I decorated our Christmas tree. Early this time.
(As most of the family will be off on the 27th we decided to get one early this year)
This activity brings along a strange mix of dread and cheer for me.
It is fun to see all the old family baubles,  decorations and strange artifacts again…
Toys from generations passed gleam out at you, including a piece of aluminium foil thrown down from WWII planes to upset the German radars during the occupation… an unmissable piece of paraphernalia…

Still Christmas also always makes me glum. For me the days of advent are the annual reminder of my birthday coming up on the 24th…
For most people bithdays are days to look forward to. A day where you will be the center of attention, eating cake, receiving presents and kind messages.
In a way Christmas is somewhat the same, be it slightly more forced on us through commerce and other mega media expectations.
Carols fill the radio, (let’s not mention Mariah and Wham! this year…) The thought of everyone being nice to their neighbours descends upon us all…

Happy birthday...

So you can imagine the slight bewilderment that usually greets me on the morning of the 24th.
After more than 30 years I should know what to expect: Nothing.

On the 24th everyone is completely consumed by last minute shopping and the preparations of one, two or three days of overeating, presents and family drama.
So eating a birthday cake on the morning before is usually not really a priority. (still Facebook usually helps people remember my birthday)

Anyway, good luck everyone with the final days before the hols, getting all your work done and presents bought.

Have a good one!

It was an interesting day with some interesting people sharing their knowledge and experiences.
But let’s not get me started on this, that would take forever…

On the way back to the station I walked through the red light district and saw the following sight opposite the Casa Rosso theatre:

No no, I was just swanning around to see the architecture...

And I thought swans were considered monogamous?!

On second thought I shouldn’t be surprised… Right Leda?