A Suitably English Excursion, Pt.3: Shrewsbury Revisited

There's quite a gap between posts again, but I've been delighfully busy during the past weeks - studying Italian, singing in a choir, and doing other stimulating things to keep my mind off the coming darkness. Yet, since a while back I promised a selection of photos from my excursion to Shrewsbury way back in September, here they finally are.

I first visited Shrewsbury way back in 2004, while I was interrailing with another anglophile friend of mine. We both fell in love with the well-preserved charms of the town. Compared to some other historic English cities, Shrewsbury isn't too touristy, either (I'm looking at you, Bath). 

Although the town centre is lovely, too, my favourite spot is the park (called The Quarry)...

...and within the park, a particular spot called the Dingle:

The last time I went there, it was May and the rhododendrons were in bloom. Now, in September, the place was even more impressive. 

 

Looking at all these colous in the middle of November gloom makes my soul bleed. But in the nicest possible way. :)

A Suitably English Excursion, Part 2

I'm not a great fan of big cities; small places tend to have more character - and are also better for day-trips. England in particular is full of little gems that most tourists tend to overlook. Nantwich, for example.

The town certainly isn't the most happening place in the world - when I went there, it was a market day, and the high street was full of old ladies. This, however, only added to the olde-worlde charm of the place. The town musem, on the other hand, was full of noisy schoolchildren, who were apparently there to learn about the traditions of cheese-making.

I found my way to the canal completely by accident, and spent a couple of hours following random footpaths back to the town centre. The weather was magnificent, and I really envied the people who floated by on their canal boats, smiling and waving as they went.

The locals were friendly as well, if a bit curious.

The following day I took a train to Knutsford - another charming old Cheshire town. Nowadays it's perhaps best known as Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford (although Wikipedia tells me that the recent series was actually filmed in Wiltshire). Being more of a Brontë fangirl myself, my reason for going there was the town's main point of interest, Tatton Park.

Altough I'd done some research beforehand, I really wasn't prepared for the sheer size of the place. The park itself is HUGE: it took me almost an hour to make my way to the mansion.

Within the park, there were several big gardens, all of which were very impressive. Above the Italian garden behind the big house.

The Japanese garden, however, was my favourite. 

  I've seen quite a few historic houses in my time, but Tatton Park still managed to impress me. Also, five hours wasn't nearly enough to see everything; I would have liked to see the old Tudor hall, and to spend more time just walking around the park in the company of the deer and the sheep. Knutsford itself was a pleasant-looking place, and certainly worth more than a quick walk-through.

Still to come: A Suitably English Excursion, Pt. 3: The Wonders of Shrewsbury.

A Suitably English Excursion, pt. 1: Chester

Another year, another trip to England. My seventh, if my calculations are correct. You might think that there isn't much left to see in the Ol' Green and Pleasant after so many visits - but it seems that the more you see of the place, the more there is to see. Take Chester, for example. 

If a friend of mine hadn't invited me there, I'd probably never had even thought about going to Chester. Which would have been a shame, since the place is absolutely charming. The city has been compared to York - after all, both places boast a long history and a city wall (see Chester's impressive wall above). 

As York happens to be my favourite English city, I won't make any unfruitful comparisons here, especially as Chester is lovely in its own right - just quite a bit smaller. But let's just say that their wall still actually encircles the city centre. Almost, at least.

But there's a lot more to see in Chester: for instance, a cathedral (above, lurking behind the tree).

A historic town centre, complete with a clock dedicated to that most not-amused of monarchs, Victoria. 

 Some street art, found in the most unexpected places. 

 This was the part I loved the most, however: the waterways. Here the canal on a bright, cold morning. 

The River Dee on a muggier morning...

... and at sunset.

Coming soon: A Suitably English Excursion, pt. 2: Nantwich and Knutsford.

Saving the world, one second-hand skirt at a time...

I'm very fond of second-hand shops. In fact, nowadays I do most of my shopping at fleamarkets and charity shops - for several reasons. Price is of course one. Yet, the unpredictability of these places also really pleases me. Of course, if you're looking for something particular, then a round of the fleamarkets begins to resemble regular shopping - which isn't much fun in my experience. However, if you can keep your mind and eyes open, most of the time you can spot some treasures.

There are a few second-hand lovelies in the picture above - some of which are my mother's old possessions (her Afghan mat and old living room table). The yellow mirror I found last Saturday - I've been looking for one of those for some time now. This one cost 10 €. The flowery thing in the mirror is another secondhand find - a vintage lamp I bought a few years back. 

As you can see, I'm very pleased with my other two finds: a beautiful blue blouse (2 €), and a purple Vila skirt (4€). I seem to have a particular knack for finding secondhand Vila skirts in exactly my size. This might become a problem, as I'm already running out of cupboard space. 

On an altogether unrelated note, I began my Italian studies today. It's been a while since I've sat in a classroom and actually repeated phrases after the teacher. I loved every minute of it! I just hope my newfound motivation will carry me through October and November as well. 

But next week, I'm going to England for a few days. Will probably gush about it later.

Sunfaraa!

As I mentioned in my last post, my second trip to Kokkola was done with a specific goal in mind: in addition to finishing the literature course I'd started in December, I was on a mission to locate an English rowboat. 

And not just any old rowboat: the one the good people of Kokkola captured from the Royal Navy in 1854 (in a battle known as the Skirmish of Halkokari), and haven't given back to the Brits despite several kind requests.  It's very easy to miss in its little anonymous, snow-surrounded cottage at the edge of the English Park - and it's not all that impressive as far as trophies of war go. But there it is.

The city was lovely this time around as well, despite the skull-cracking ice and the persistent rain. This gave me a good opportunity to visit several museums and art galleries, - including one situated in Pedagogio, the oldest non-religious building in Finland (in the top picture) - and to see an impressive collection of minerals and stuffed animals (not my cup of tea, really -  but hey, it was free and extremely educational).

I also noticed that I'm turning into a stereotypical academic tourist - one who likes to look at obscure paintings and visit one old house after another, all the while trying to think of something clever to say to the curator on the way out.  Then, once I'm home, I can deftly deconstruct my experiences with a hint of postmodern cynicism. 

Which might be the only use I'll ever have for my degree in Contemporary Culture.  

The wonders of the west coast

It's been a busy past few weeks. In addition to trying to finish my PhD, I've also been teaching a couple of courses - one of them some 400 kms from where I live. It was great fun, though, to get an opportunity to take a train to a completely unknown city, stay the night at a fine hotel, talk about literature to  bunch of motivated students, and spend the rest of the time walking around the old part of the city with my mouth hanging slightly open. I hadn't quite realised the Neristan in  Kokkola was quite as amazing as that.

Unfortunately, my camera froze on me (again), so I got very few pictures that are actually in focus. Perhaps better this way - otherwise I would have snapped photos of each and every house and perhaps embarrassed myself in the process. 

Looking forward to going back in January. Then I'm planning to finally lay eyes on the famous gunboat which was captured from the British during the Crimean war, and which the brits have been very eager to get back ever since.  SHS is already planning a re-enactment of the impressive battle in which such a prize landed in Finnish hands.

Treasure

As is my habit, I spent last weekend in Helsinki, watching films and catching up with friends I see far too seldom. What made this year's gathering a bit different, however, was that the person responsible for it all was getting married on that same weekend. Thus there were only two films (but what films!), and considerably more voluntary work involved - which suited me just fine, as over the years I've been getting quite good at handling ridiculous amounts of food, fetching and carrying, and just generally trying to guarantee a pleasant time for all. 

During my career as a party organiser/cook/fetchercarrier/Ms Fixit, I've come to the conclusion that the trite sentiment of "giving is better than receiving" works pretty well in practice, too. Even better than giving things, however, is giving time: helping out with things that require more than one pair of hands and more than five minutes of your day - doing instead of buying, being there when someone really needs you, and not just in a mental sense. Even for such a non-sociable person as myself, building up a party from scratch can be great fun if you're working with like-minded people and know that in the end, you'll be enjoying the fruits of your labours with those very same people.

Don't get me wrong: giving and receiving things is also very nice, too. Especially when that thing happens to be handmade Belgian pralines, delivered straight to my door. That's what, dear reader, I got for my trouble this time.

The moral of the story: help thy friends, and thou shalt receive chocolate.

Another party, another pie

A week from now, another SHS party will (hopefully) be in full swing. So far, the preparations have gone without a hitch: our dresses are coming along nicely (thanks to Juska's unflagging effort), most people who've promised to come are probably going to turn up, and most importantly, the menu is looking good. At least for the most part.

The one thing that has been causing me some brief moments of anxiety is the vegetarian option. As far as I know, all of our guests are meat-eaters, but it's always best to be prepared; also, an extra dish never goes amiss especially as the party's going to be an all-night one. 

Following the tradition established last year, we (Otter and I) decided that some kind of vegetable pie will do this job nicely. The Renaissance version was delicious; in fact, I'm so fond of the cheese-and-onion tart that I make it on a regular basis. Thus I was confident that the Regency era would yield something equally tasty. But I was wrong. Most of the pies I've come across are either very simple (and thus not very festive) carrot-leek-parsnip-cabbage affairs - or else they have bacon in them. The time of Jane Austen doesn't appear to be very  vegetarian-friendly. Another explanation for the dearth of suitable recipes is that there are tons of websites dedicated to Middle Ages/Renaissace cooking, and a lot fewer specialising in the short and apparently rather uninteresting era between the French Revolution and the Victorians.

Luckily, with a lot of googling, I finally came across a recipe that's both authentic and pork-free.  Actually, the version I made is a combination of two different tarts, which have the same basic idea: cheese, eggs, spices + something green. I chose a mixture of nettles and herbs, which works quite well, but I'm not yet completely satisfied with the result. At least straight from the oven the taste is rather bitter (despite the sugar), and now I'm trying to figure out how to sweeten it. Adding raisins would be an option, but as there are currants and sultanas in the desserts, I think there is a possibility of dried grape overload. Perhaps a different type of cheese would solve the problem.

Well, I'm going north for the next few days, which both gives me the opportunity to get away from this mind-paralysing heat, and also to pick my mother's brain regarding the pie dilemma. I'm sure she'll have some constructive ideas.  

In addition to puzzling out the party menu, today I've also tried to figure out how to do my hair. The basic idea has been quite clear to me for several months, and I've tried different approahces, but finally I've hit on the perfect solution. The curly Greek do has the advantage that although it takes almost an hour to get the pin curls done (and a whole night to let them to their job), the bun itself is ridiculously simple to construct, and with the right amount of hair spray (which I'm sure Miss Austen would have heartily approved of) stays in place for hours and hours.

The picture makes the do look duller than it is IRL (I'm rubbish at taking pictures of myself, and my camera certainly doesn't make the job any easier), but at least I've managed to hold a suitably haughty stance. Which will come in useful when I'm dressed in my purple coronation gown. No Lizzie Bennet bonnets for me - when I do costume drama, I go straight for the royalty. ;)

We are the Draught Beer Preservation Society

People often wonder why I'm so drawn to England. Many times, huddled under a heap of blankets, drinking endless cups of tea in a futile effort to keep warm, I've wondered that myself. Surely there are countries that are more sunny, exotic, and affordable? Of course there are. But there's something about the eclectic charm of the Old Green and Pleasant that keeps me coming back again and again. 

Here are some of the reasons, in no particular order, as prompted by my latest trip: 

* History. For someone hailing from a relatively young country, the sheer amount of old things - both weird and wonderful - is mindboggling. 

* Pubs. The Finnish drinking culture is as sordid as our climate. The Brits, on the other hand, have turned their climate to their benefit, and come up with communal living rooms which tend to be warmer and comfier than their actual living rooms. And of course the beers are varied and tasty and cheap (from the Finnish perspective, at least). 

* Fudge. Although the English sweet culture isn't as vibrant as the Finnish one, there are some things we haven't quite got the hang of yet. One is the gentle art of fudge-making. The best hand-made fudge I've ever had I came across in Arundel, but the one made by the monks of Buckfast Abbey was very delicious as well.

* Creativity. And the encouragement thereof. There's a lot of street art in Britain that would never survive in our northern climes - partly because it wouldn't be permitted in the first place, and partly because it would be destroyed by spraycan-happy teens as soon as it was created. The amazing murals of Stokes Croft in Bristol is only one example of this (for some great examples of what we saw, go here).

* English Breakfast, in moderation. This isn't suitable for vegetarians, obviously, nor a good option for those with high cholesterol, but for a financially challenged backpacker who's bent on walking 10 km a day the bacon-eggs-sausage-and-tomato option is a brilliant one. And, if it's complemented by fresh fruit, Greek yoghurt and muesli, along with some toast and tasty homemade jam (as it was in one of the B&Bs we stayed at), your bowels needn't complain, either.

The title of this post comes from this song by the Kinks. I first heard it when I was 17 or thereabouts, and already in the throes of anglophilia. Needless to say, the song only helped to reinforce my image of the England that Never Was.

Riding nowhere

Isn't it just like spring to turn things around in the space of a few days? Last week's pictures are full of dripping, naked trees - today's it's scorching hot and looks like summer already.

Quite unexpectedly, too, I had a car all to myself yesterday, and was able to make the most of a lovely spring day by getting out of the city. I went to see M, and we spent the afternoon trekking in the woods (mostly here) and driving around Korpilahti, trying to get lost in the little country roads (and totally failing, which didn't really bother us in the end as it made getting home so much easier).

Now it's all work and relatively little play until the 1st of June - and then it's all England.

Nil significat, nisi oscillat

I'm heading South for the weekend, to partake of some jazz and good company.  Now that the sun is out, there's an air of spring about it, too.

I've been asked to sing a few numbers at the party; I don't usually do jazz, so it's been a bit of a challenge to find suitable songs, but it's been a lot of fun practicing as well. I'll never be able to do a piano solo like Nina Simone - but then again, no one can.

Business as Usual

It's been quiet here at Sisotowbell Lane lately - mainly because it's been loud and busy elsewhere in my life. After a couple of weeks or so of noise, dust and  other kinds of bother, I finally got my new kitchen (which is very nice indeed). I didn't get much time to enjoy all those new cupboards and contraptions, however, because I (the dutiful daughter that I am) was called to S-city to nurse my mum who'd just undergone a hip replacement operation.

Despite all this outward excitement, after Xmas I felt that something important was missing from my life. One could even speak of a sense of stagnation. Fortunately, I soon discovered the source of this emptiness - and the perfect cure for this. I realised that I was suffering from period costume deficiency, which is almost as serious as not getting enough vitamin D during the darkest months of the year. 

Drastic measures had to be taken. I immediately immersed myself in the mental preparations of next summer's Jane Austen/Napoleon party . As first aid, I headed for YouTube, and landed on an unknown (at least to me) treasure. Emma has always been one of my favourite Austen novels, but so far I hadn't found a TV or film adaptation which matched my reading of it. All the versions I had seen portray Emma Woodhouse as a  comic, annoyingly twinkly kind of character - totally disregarding the fact that the  message of the novel is actually a serious one, one that shows the danger of living in a fantasy world, and not being able to see the real world (and its people) as it is.

The version which finally captures this theme is the 1996 TV adaptation with Kate Beckinsale and Mark Strong as Emma and Mr Knightley respectively. I don't know why  I haven't been on the lookout for this version, because it has been written by Andrew Davies (he of Pride&Prejudice fame). I like the chemistry between the leading couple, although I think Knightley might have been toned down a bit - all that shouting and raving is somewhat disconcerting. (Mark Strong's performance is otherwise excellent. And he's very nice man to look at, indeed. :)) What raises this version above others, however, are the impeccable performances of the "minor" characters, especially Bernard Hepton's hopelessly hypochondriac Mr Woodhouse and Samantha Morton's gullible  but loyal Harriet Smith.

After getting my thoughts thus on the right track, I was in the correct mood to begin thinking about really important things, namely what to wear. In this I have been greatly assisted by Otter and Juska, with whom I spent a delightful afternoon of drooling over muslins and spencers (mainly here) and making actual plans for dresses Juska is going to make for us. Needless to say, they're going to be fabulous. :)

Now I'm feeling much more like myself again; my life has a clear direction once more, and I can already start looking forward to next summer. Which, amid all this snow, is rather optimistic, I know.

(The picture above, in case you're wondering, is by James Gillray, one of the keenest observers of society during the Georgian period. From time to time he also observed fashion.)

Thought for the Day

Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
and how the wind doth ramm,
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm,
So 'gainst the winter's balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm,

Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.


"Song" by Ezra Pound. Modelled after this  little ditty.

Anyway, I'm off to the North for a few days.

Context, Cows and the Capital

I spent the weekend in Helsinki, celebrating Fidia's birthday in the usual manner  (but with fewer films this time) and also doing some work on our webpage with Otter and T. Thus in three days I indulged in catching up with a dozen of friends, eating in a rather fancy restaurant, making and helping to destroy a truly sinful chocolate cake, watching some great films, and - as always with Otter and T, planning a glorious future for SHS.

On Sunday I got treated to a side of Helsinki I rarely encounter - and one I enjoy greatly. As the pictures above show, there is more to our capital than concrete and traffic jams and grumpy people; indeed, it also seems to include cows and fields and friendly dog-owners. If I saw that side of the city more often, I might even get to tentatively like the darn place.

Today's been a cloudy day - both internally and weather-wise. I like the bleakness of October when it coincides so wonderfully with my mental state - which is similarly worn-out but at the same time serene and strangely expectant.

What I'm expecting, of course, is a satisfactory ending to my nearly year-long travail with my Licentiate, which should take place tomorrow. And even more than that I'm looking forward to the big chocolate cake I've been promised. :)

Contributing to my bitter-sweet mood has been Aimee Mann, whose soundscapes are perfect for this season. I love her matter-of-fact delivery and inventive lyrics, especially as they are set to devastatingly gorgeous music. Like so: