Constable Country

This is a story about husbands and wives - it didn't really start out that way but by the end of the week my feminist streak was beginning to take over - we 'met' four husbands over the week but saw little of the people who supported them and enabled them to achieve their ambitions. So, I began to think about what men would have achieved without all that supportive care - and thankful that things are beginning to change and that now some woman, and hopefully in the future many more women will have the opportunity to achieve their aspirations. One of the men we learnt about was Geoffrey de Havilland and he said 'I had an overwhelming desire to fly'. I guess that is what many people have when they take their natural gifts from playing to creating - an overwhelming desire to do something...So here are the men Geoffrey de Havilland, Charles Darwin who attempted to solve a mystery, John Constable who painted and George Bernard Shaw who wrote. So here goes...
The movie Creation is the story of Charles Darwin and the personal struggles he had in writing and publishing the theory of Evolution (there is an irony in the name of the film which I haven't quite got a handle on yet). We were keen to see the film as we are going to the house where he wrote and developed a lot of his theories in a couple of weeks. The film painted him as a man who was tortured by the impact that his theory could have on the world and himself personally (I read somewhere that the film has not been widely seen in America as distributors are not keen to take on responsibility for the impact on a population that defines itself as only 39% who believe in the theory of evolution). Emma his wife agonised over the fact that her wonderful husband may spend 'eternity in a different place' and in the end this famous scientist asked his wife to read his masterpiece and either throw it away or send it to the publisher. Intermingled in this was the story of the loss of one of their daughters Annie - how they blamed themselves for her death which they really had no control over - and the impact on their marriage and family life. It is one of those wonderful true stories with a happy ending, the book is published, the world has something new to discuss and dissect, a reconciled marriage and a happy family life.
And now onto John Constable - yes we visited Constable Country - over to the north east of London. Slightly off a busy motorway, is Flatford Mill and the little towns of Dedham Vale and East Bergholt where John Constable lived, walked, played, went to school and painted. In some articles he is described as a 'Romantic Painter' and I can see now that the description fits. As we walked around Flatford, I could picture an 8 year old boy skipping along the countryside to school, skimming stones in the creek, smiling and talking to neighbours who just might give him a sweet, jumping over stiles, and wondering at the clouds that cross the sky and the colours that bless each season. It was a good day to come - autumn the harvest is nearly over - gold, brown and green falling leaves (into our mugs of tea is an occupational hazard for a picnicker). Many of Constables paintings were from this area "I should paint my own places best" and we had the privilege of seeing the dry dock and Willy Lotts house as well as Constable's studio in East Berghout and the town Dedham Vale where he went to school. We took lots of photos from similar spots where John would have sat with his easel and paint brushes -besides the trees growing a bit and their being tourists wandering around the streets rather than farmers working the fields the scenes are pretty much the same - I've taken the liberty of copying some photos of his paintings off the web for comparison. So, what about his family. John and Maria were childhood sweethearts (they both probably skipped along the paths through the fields that we walked and later found a secret place to have a kiss and a hug). Apparently, this young love was not approved by Maria's grandfather, who was pretty well off and threatened disinheritance seeing the money thrown away on a penniless marriage. Maria must have been strong (or perhaps not motivated by money) as she pointed out that without this money John would never be able to fulfill his ambition to paint. Not all prospective in-laws would like to hear that but apparently they gave in and Maria and John were married in 1816. She died from tuberculosis shortly after the birth of their seventh child and Constable wrote to his brother Golding, "hourly do I feel the loss of my departed Angel—God only knows how my children will be brought up…the face of the World is totally changed to me". After that, he always dressed in black, became a little bit melancholy and cared for his seven children alone. But it isn't only partners that inspire the great. Willy Lott lived at Gibeons Farm near Flatford Mill. He was a tenant farmer and spent all but four nights under the roof of the little house that features in the "The Hay Wain." I can just imagine a young John running up the path beside the pond, waving to the older Willy and yelling goodbye at the end of a school day - or am I letting my imagination run away with me.

George Bernard Shaw wrote stories many years after Constable painted his pictures - and although he lived most of his life in the country further west it still had the look of Constable Country. Very soon, after leaving the motorway we were driving along 'quiet lanes', very narrow lanes with patches of grass in the middle, high hedge rows, and passing horses, cyclists and walkers rather than the noisy motor car. I must admit the only work I can remember of Shaw's is Pygmalion and when I looked on the web to see what else he wrote none of them rang any bells. Charlotte Payne-Townshend married Shaw and they settled in the house in Ayot St. Lawrence, now called Shaw's Corner which is where we had driven to. Before his death Shaw left the house to the National Trust and it is one of the few houses we have seen where all the furnishings and household items stayed exactly where the occupant left them. It was an incredible feeling walking through the door below a half shaped stain glass window where I had a flashback to a house a friend in Karori used to live. Built about the same era it had a lovely airy feel about it, a large kitchen with a large window looking out to the garden, bay windows, and all painted in shades of white - which made it so light. Shaw's glasses still sat on the desk with his pens and note books, the piano still had music on the stand, on the bathroom basin sat his toothbrush (complete with bone handle), and I imagined but did not see his pyjamas placed neatly under his pillow. (Incidentally, I had to look up the history of the toothbrush as it never occurred to me there was anything between the stick or tooth pick and the plastic handled tooth brush I use every day. How wrong I was. The toothbrush goes back as early as the 1400s - the Chinese used to tie hog hair to a bamboo stick for their oral hygiene). Back to Shaw's writing - he did most of it in a little 'revolving' sun house that was initially Charlotte's summer hut - but I think she gladly gave it to him to rid him from the house. Anyway, on to Charlotte who was from a wealthy family and a fellow Fabian and also preferred the chauffeurs driving to George's. She dedicated her life to the struggle for women's rights and married Shaw after nursing him through some sort of illness (there is an irony there that I won't go into). They did heaps of travelling and she didn't want children and so didn't have any. All the same, it must have been quite a companionship as when Shaw died his ashes were mixed with those of Charlottes' and scattered in the garden at Shaw's Corner. I did find some quotes which are thought provoking: A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. If all economists were laid end to end, they would not reach a conclusion (having studied economics I quite like that one). Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine and at last you create what you will. And now to the de Havillands - Charles the man who gave me the theme for this excursion through English creativity. Charles had an interest in automotive engineering and wanted to initially build cars and motorcycles rather than fix them. In 1909 he married Louise and she somehow gave him the impetus (it wasn't money this time as she had been a governess to Charles sisters) to start designing, building and flying aircraft to which he and at least two of sons devoted their lives. He was given £1000 from his grandfather (an early inheritance) and two years later built his first aircraft which he crashed on its maiden voyage. From then on he managed to design and build a number of aircraft and a significant number of de Havilland designed aircraft were used during the both World Wars. Best known was the Mosquito which Harry enjoyed seeing at the little museum off the M25. Louise had died earlier, distraught at losing two of her three sons to aircraft accidents (test pilots in de Havilland aircraft). While Harry wandered slowly around the museum, I did a reasonably fast walk and then spent some time in the countryside taking photos of woodpiles (it really was quite fun!!) and Salisbury House (where the designs for the deHavilland were created). During the war this area was protected by making it look like a working farm - when the plane was built it was dismantled and taken to a nearby airfield so no Germans would consider bombing a little country farm. Hence the Mossy was built in secrecy. So, to end this story... how did we get to these historic places. On Friday we drove to Clacton-on-Sea - where we stayed at a recently renovated Travelodge. We estimated about 3.5 hours to get there and did the first 100 miles in just over an hour and a half. It took 3.5 hours to do the next 100 miles as we crawled along the M25 (known as the biggest car park in the world). We picnicked somewhere during that crawl, sausage sandwiches and cake on the M25 is a new one even for us (and there goes my theory that if we are prepared we won't get caught in traffic jams). Clacton is a seaside resort and reminded us of New Zealand with the detached houses along the coastline but that is where the similarities finished. There was a pier and there was lots of beach huts and there were wooden walls along the beach which we think is intended to stop erosion. Further along the coast is Frinton-on-Sea which we were told was an art deco town. It didn't get a pub until 2000 and there are rumours it still hasn't got an ice-cream vendor but we could imagine in summer the social scene along the promenade between the beach huts and the sea - there would have to be a Mr Whippy somewhere. It was all closed up for winter with no eager beach owners enjoying the beach but we could see the fun of coming each year and meeting the next door beach hut owners - having a drink and a barbeque as the children played in the sand or swam at the beach. Frinton had a nice tree lined shopping centre where we found some lunch from a bakery and two very long sought after plastic mugs for our picnic set (it is so hard to find plastic mugs here). Further up the line is Harwich - a port town with large cargo and passenger ships coming and going from Holland. It had a charm about it that other big ports don't tend to have so we wandered along the sea wall and enjoyed the boats and birds.