Airshows, Palaces and Gardens

Hook - a little village with a name in bold on the map situated close to Farnborough in Hampshire - or is it that little village in Wiltshire only about an hour out of Bristol that we saw on a map for the first time while driving along the M4 on Friday afternoon on the way to our hotel in Hook. We can see the importance of postcodes in a country where there are so many little towns with names that are not unique especially when we were looking on a map and discovered a third Hook in the next county (three within about a 100 miles). Thankfully, our hotel was in the village close to the airshow or we would have still had to get up early on Saturday morning to get Harry there in time to see all the exhibits before the first aeroplane took flight. Indeed on Friday night as we pulled up to our 18th century hotel with a falling down granary at the back (we were given a room in the recent addition at the back in the same architectural design), Harry opened the car door and heard the 'melodious' sound (it is all in the ears of the beholder) of 6 Rolls Royce Merlin engines attached to a Lancaster, a Spitfire and a Hurricane flying over head - he looked like a little boy with a new toy. Saturday morning we were up before the birds (well Harry was and I did eventually get up once the birds began to chirp and I realised that a cup of tea was all I was going to get). While Harry spent all Saturday looking at those magnificent men in their flying machines I visited Godalming firstly for breakfast, then a riverside walk, then a wander into a shoe shop. It is a nice little village but you probably wouldn't go there unless your partner was at an airshow close by. It seemed to be well known for being the family town of John Phillips - what part in history did he play you might ask as there is a park and a street named after him as well as a memorial that described his short life. Sadly his family and townsfolk knew him as the Chief Wireless Telegraphist on the maiden voyage of the Titanic.

I then drove through some lovely Surrey countyside, down lanes lined with large trees (rather than the more typical flat fields of the South East), roads sprinkled with alternating raindrops and sunlight, through cute little villages (with few thatched cottages as this is not the Cotswolds). After visiting Hasledean another little village I realised once again that shopping is not my thing and I redirected myself to where I really had planned to go, but hadn't quite made it. Map reading and driving are difficult at the best of times, but in England it is made so much worse with so many roundabouts, intersections and little towns - at least you don't get lost it is just the 'don't know where I am' syndrome as if I had broken down (I mean the car) I would never have been able to describe to someone where I was. Finally I stumbled across the Rural Farm museum, just outside Tilford, which is where I planned to begin my day some hours earlier. I was not the only person there without a child and it had enough to keep me and the others occupied for a while. I was expecting some farm yard animals (found a few black faced sheep close to an old plough but besides that it was only the occasional rabbit and bird). I came to the realisation that the principles of farm equipment have remained the same throughout the centuries, plough the fields, plant the seed, harvest the crop, feed, dip and protect the animals but what has changed is the time and energy saving component so farmers can achieve more in a day rather than relaxing. I enjoyed the visit because every little museum like this has a couple of unique features. The classroom looked fairly typical - long bench desks, black boards and inkwells - but there were photos of teachers, classes and some exhibits which did show that learning could be fun, and that the function of the ruler was to measure rather than discipline. However, there was a label that little Welsh children had to wear with 'Welsh not' as a reminder if they dared to speak Welsh in the classroom. Haven't times changed, now all signs in Wales are bilingual and we are still trying to pronounce most of the words with a kiwi accent as we drive along their roads. In the fields was a Gypsy caravan, gardens made from old ploughs and farming equipment, a shepherds hut, 18th Century granary (on mushroom shaped piles designed to stop rodents from getting to the food also known as saddle, straddle, staddle or steddle stones). The granary was made with 'mathematical tiles' very thin slate tiles, rather than the normal brick, that interlocked together which required no concrete designed to be cheaper I think and to avoid to the 'brick tax' of the 18th century. Interestingly when we returned to our hotel, the 18th Century granary had the same piles. The little church was made from logs which had bark falling off it - very NZ like - and the prefab house designed during the Atlee era to cheaply house the many families who lost their homes from either the pre war slum clearance or damage from the war and the restriction on building new homes between the wars are still in existence today in some parts of England. There were also some interesting advertising 'Mrs Peels puddings' were the answer to the question 'Can a warden be a good wife?' apparently they meant that a woman could be a full time warden during the war and still provide a hot pudding (boil the tin) for her husband at night, trouser suit pyjamas were advertised as the ideal war shelter clothes for the fashion conscious when forced to spend the night in a public shelter, and a pregnant or breast feeding mother could get rations of orange juice and Vitamin A and D tablets. As I sat having a picnic in the car park I looked up and saw some aeroplanes which Harry later identified as Bell BA 609. I was surprised that the noise from the airshow was generally not particularly loud - Haz says it is because modern aircraft don't make so much noise.

Also while Harry watched aeroplanes I visited Losely House (which I found quite easily but not by reading the map - brown signposts marking places of interest on the side of the road can be helpful). The house I think was well known by the locals more for its garden than the history of the house. The home of the More and Molyneux families for over 500 years. The walled garden was one of those little country ones (well not that little it covered 2.5 acres) was designed by Gertrude Jekyll (no idea who she was but the name has a ring to it that appeals) with lots of annuals planted (there is a rose garden, a white garden, a herb garden, and a organic vegetable garden as well as an exhibition of statues and a maple tree planted by Queen Elizabeth 1st during her visit - which I don't think I got a photo of). The wisteria would have been a picture but I missed that - just a little bit late. There was also a garden show which people left laden with shopping bags of plants, statues and garden furniture but as you had to pay to go into that and since I wasn't intending to buy anything I didn't bother. The tour of the bottom story of the house was 3 or 4 rooms, dining, library, drawing, lounge. The guide told us about windows facing north made the house very cold but it is because the home owners of the time believed that the germs came over from the continent and they would have more trouble getting into the house if they had to go around it (I guess that last few feet after fighting against that cold wind from the North might have been the last straw) but I had always been told it was to avoid furniture getting faded. Also was told that you showed your wealth by the number of chimneys, ceilings and windows your house had. Chimneys haven't been around that long and before that fires were lit and smoke simply floated up to the rafters and I guess eventually escaped through the tiles or the thatched roof (one way of killing rodent that lived in the rafters I guess). Rich people then put in chimneys, which meant they could put in ceilings complete with intricate decorations and gold. Glass was expensive which is why small panes were separated between lead to reduce the cost of the windows (and I guess to avoid daylight taxes). Queen Elizabeth 1 visited the house, which is why she planted the maple tree but it was built for her because she refused to come to the previous home - not quite good enough for royalty. When she arrived she refused to sleep in the bedroom specially decorated for her as it had north facing windows (did she want to catch germs or not!!). Apparently being asked to invite the royal family was a mixed blessing as they usually stayed for a month and the host and hostess were expected to feed and house the royal visitors and their entourage (about 200-300 staff who slept and lived outside without ablutions and sanitation). Imagine the perfume after a while - an unclean stable could smell better I think and not even the fragrant garden would hide the odour. The family then left the host and hostess to clean up and pay all the bills. Then back to pick up Harry, in a rather long and round about way, getting stuck in long queues of traffic and heading in the wrong direction at least twice before finding somewhere I could stop and ask for directions (hints are don't follow empty buses because they were going back to the airshow - and Harry was waiting at the railway station and don't follow full buses as they are likely to be heading out of town to other popular destinations like London!!). Harry was waiting at the station laden with his 300 odd photos, and a bit sun burnt, he had had a great day. I raced into the station to go to the loo and found I couldn't get into the loos without a ticket for a train (a nice official let me in after my desperate plea) and then found I couldn't get out of the station without a ticket to say I had paid for my train trip I didn't have - thankfully the nice official remembered me and let me out (I think I still looked desperate). The memorial parts of the airshow from Harry's perspective were seeing the:

• Vulcan - one of its first public outings since it was rebuilt - at one stage they thought the cross winds would prevent it from flying but in the end it gave a great display. The only time in flew in combat was during the Falkland War
• Bell BA - 609 civil prototype of the Tilt Rotor concept that the US military have flying in the Osprey
• Sea Hawk - only flying example of one of the royal navy's jet fighters
• Red Arrows - seen before but still impressed and the heart says 'still love it'
• A380 - spectacular slow speed flying display and tremendous tight turns at slow speeds

Next day we avoided the traffic and headed for Beaconsfield to the Bekonscot model village where Caramello had lots of fun with the other children. The village is on a 1.5 acre landscape and as you walk around you are followed by a miniature railway. Enid Blyton lived for 30 years around here but we couldn't find a museum showing her life history which would have been fun to look at but her house stood grandly in the village with Noddy outside. The Village is modelled on the 1930's and the zoo was certainly what I used to see as a child (not that I was around in the 1930's), little bears in concrete confines with a little bit of water, giraffes in small fields - how far we have come in now caring for their life style and future. There was everything you could want when living in a village including fire engines, airport, bus stations, road works, sports grounds - cricket, soccer, rugby, croquet, tennis, bowls - houses, pubs, windmills, fair ground, farms, town halls, churches and so on. Apparently, it is quite a treat for young royals as there was a photo of an 8 year old Princess Elizabeth enjoyed her birthday treat there.

Then onto Blenheim Palace, - steeped in history - extensive grounds built as a thank you from Queen Anne to John Churchill the Duke of Marlborough (ancestor to the Spencer and Churchill families ie a great, great, great ... of Diana and Winston) for winning the Blindham War in Bavaria 1704. The monument was erected and the building of the palace began in 1705 to be completed 28 years later. It was designed by Sir John Vanburgh and is described as a 'masterpiece of English Baroque architecture' - in my mind that means symmetrical. Some of the rooms were quite spectacular with huge paintings and tapestrys - but quite similar to many of the other magnificent buildings we have seen in our short time here. There was a very big collection of 'Chinese' ornaments and dining sets but I never could quite find out the connection. During a domestic tour we learnt that staff often kept the name of the previous incumbent so it was easier for the owners to remember their names and that footmen (whose main job was to run along side the coach and to stop it from falling over during fast manoeuvring around tight corners - until one died from exhaustion and then I think they took on a new role) were paid by their height but the Duke only employed footmen who were 6 foot (did he have a taller carriage than others?). It is set in 2,100 acres of parkland landscaped by 'Capability' Brown - ie all man made including the waterfall, lake, hills and valleys. The rose garden was lovely, but smaller than the one in the Wellington Botanical Gardens and you could smell the perfume from quite a long way away. Had tea outside in the garden (needed scones and cream to complete the picture). Churchill, who was born there in 1874, got engaged (He asked for Henrietta's hand at the Diana temple in the garden), and also got married there, and was buried somewhere close by. I didn't know he was also quite a good artist (Haz did) and he had quite a strong personal relationship with Mr Hall who created the Hallmark cards. It was fascinating to see Churchill's paintings as greeting cards and to see the history of the well known card and politician. I have decided I will have to stop romanticising the lives of famous politicians, painters, writers etc as we went to see the 'Edge of Love' at the movies (queue to 15 or so theatres was as long as from the Embassy to the Opera House nearly - Mamma Mia was just opening and Indiana Jones was on as well as the 2 for 1 Wednesday deals). The movie was about Dylan Thomas's life - since visiting his boat house in Laugharne I have had romantic thoughts of contentment and peace but the film portrayed him as a womaniser and bludger who made others lives quite unbearable. I am sure there was some poetic license (get the pun) but probably there was a reality of truth in it as well. Back to Blenheim Palace... While at the palace we were spectators at an Indian Wedding. The bride arrived in a white horse drawn carriage and the groom on a horse accompanied by drummers. One of the rooms in the place was organised ready for the reception - 80 people I thought that could just be a manageable on our incomes - but then went into a larger room where there was seating for another 270 (yes I did count the number of tables and multiplied it by the number of chairs at each table) which had tv screens so they could see what was happening in the more intimate room. Lovely menu of indian food only half of which I recognised - obviously not from the local takeaway.

Thought for the day - I saw this plaque at the model village and it made me think about how much we enjoy taking photos and writing the blog. Without them we would still have a great time, but our memories would not recall all those special little things that happen along the way. We have hundreds of photos and each weekend there might be two really special ones which I will put into an album one day (the white hydrangeas in my photo with the grey sky is my pick for this weekend where I think Harry's might be one of an aeroplane).

This week Harry joined the skittles club....