‘Born With A Silver Spoon’

On By Annika PerryIn Art, History, Hobby, Travel, Travels125 Comments

My respect for the staff of the big houses, such as the fictional Downton Abbey, grew this week as I set to sprucing up my silver spoon collection.

Long neglected, it has lain gathering dust in the loft until the recent redecoration of a room brought it to mind. A new blank wall, a whole new canvas beckoned to be filled and up to the ladder I headed to hunt out something appropriate.

Tucked on a shelf the two cases lay next to each other – perfect. Not the entirety of my collection, there are many more in boxes, however these forty-two represent some of my favourites. 

They were in a sad state; dirty and blackened and well overdue a clean-up. Cherishing them once more I washed them individually in a bowl of soapy warm water, rubbing them as clean as possible, drying and buffing up to a shine. This took more time and dedication than I’d expected and my esteem for the staff handling the silver in the big houses grew ever more, in awe of their perseverance and dedication!

Although many are gleaming and glittering some still are rather less than shiny. For now, I am not resorting to silver polish as online warnings recommend that if used at all it is important to acquire the right low-dosage one! Who knew! 

All children (and many adults too!) love collecting things and as well as bookmarks, spoons are my niche hobby. Many were gifted to me, mostly by family, as well as bought by myself. I love to travel and the spoons represented somewhere exciting and exotic; a memory of special times and other eras; the designs opening the doors of untold mystery and excitement. 

The collection is split into three categories: The United States of America, Europe and The United Kingdom. Enjoy browsing through the collection with me! Which are your favourite ones?

For those in America, can you find your state’s spoon?

As a child I was mad about anything to do with space and especially the space shuttle – imagine my joy at receiving this spoon.

I’m particularly fond of the two spoons from Los Angeles and New York City with their golden hanging ornaments.

For those in Europe, can you see your country’s spoon?

When young we visited Greece many times and I have wonderful memories of our time in Corfu!

The slender shape of the Dutch milkmaid spoon is striking and there is exquisite detail of the woman herself, the two pails balanced perfectly on her shoulders.

Here are the spoons from Great Britain. 

Have you ever been to any of these places? 

Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament are looking splendid on top of the silver spoon.

I remember being surprised that the local Hedingham Castle (which I’ve written about here) was similarly designed with the building on top.

Finally, one spoon fell in between all categories although it ended up with the American.

Leif Eriksson, also known as Lucky Leif, was a Norse man born in the late 900s, believed to be the first European to reach the shores of America. His father, Erik The Red, was originally banished to Iceland, before moving with his family, including Leif, to Greenland.

According to the sagas, Leif and his crew were said to have been blown off course while sailing from Norway to Greenland, eventually landing on Vinland in Newfoundland.

So much history within just each spoon! It is such a unique way of commemorating a place or moment.

Writing my post I became interested in spoon collections in general and intrigued to learn the following:

  • Silver spoon collecting became popular in the 1800s following the birth of tourism and especially the Grand Tours of Europe. By the late 1800s this European fad spread across America.
  • The first souvenir spoon produced in the United States, in Washington, D.C. in 1889, featured a profile of George Washington and was created to mark the centennial of his presidency.
  • Interest waned following World War One and is a marginal hobby nowadays.
  • My collection is palfrey in comparison to the world’s largest collection of 30,000 owned by Des Warren in Mayfield, Australia.
  • The phrase “born with a silver spoon in his/her mouth” is well known and is assumed to mean the child grew up wealthy. However, the idiom originated as a way of saying that the person never seems to get sick. There was a belief that the silver offered germ-killing properties and in the past children who were fed with silver spoons (which was a luxury often reserved for wealthier families) were typically healthier babies.
  • The most expensive silver spoon was sold for $32,500 / £26,000 at Heritage Auctions, London in 2021. It was manufactured in 1790.

Do you tend to buy a memento of your time visiting somewhere special? Or perhaps you have an unusual hobby or collection yourself? It’s great to chat away in the comments! 

Finally, many thanks for David Prosser for mentioning how good the Red Dragon of Wales would look upon a silver spoon! They exist and look amazing- a new one I would love to be my next silver spoon!

THE JETPACK

On By Annika PerryIn short story, Writing119 Comments

Yes, it’s under warranty, only two weeks old but how can I make a claim when it simply disappeared?!

Early 2018 the internet was flooded with posts and tweets about the latest jetpacks for those with means and a wicked sense of adventure. The adverts promised a ride like never before with an added mysterious non-specific dimension. I just had to have one.

I’d tried out some jetpacks at an airfield or two. At £2,000 a time the rides were a bargain yet I longed to possess one of my own.

One spring afternoon I found myself in the library with my father. This was my favourite room, all Elizabethan dark wood panelling, four walls of books, all tucked safely away behind glass doors. On one shelf I spotted my beloved and tatty Jane Austen penguin books — a most wonderful writer and I adored her books so much. So very much that one Christmas my parents surprised me with a first edition set of all her sixteen books dating from the start of the eighteenth century. They got it at a very reasonable price, I was told, at just under £200,000.

My father was on the window seat and looked up at me. Even before I said a word he spoke.

‘No, Katy. I told you last night, no way. It is just too much.’

‘Pa,’ I said. He loved it when I called him this and I repeated. ‘Pa, it is just a bit more than my yearly allowance and rumours are you lost this amount just last month. Ma called it pocket change, I heard!’

Admittedly £300,000 was way past pocket change for me even!

There was a hiccup of silence. Yes!

I had him; the famous hiccup tell — he never could work out why he was always losing at the tables.

Father reached over to me, his glittering card stretched to my eager fingers.

‘Take this and just promise me to be careful, bubbles.’

There it was, the reason I would always get what I wanted — bubbles! The nickname made me smile and groan in equal measure. My delight of bubble baths was infamous. The renowned photos of me as a child surrounded by bubbles galore by the world famous photographer Georgias Kerragiannis collectors plastered on our walls … and those of many art galleries. How did he manage to turn such a simple idea into a colourific gaudy prints that took the world by storm? Over and over he merely changed one tiny detail at a time and the buyers kept paying ever more.

Bubbles it was and this bubbles always knew the key to her father’s heart.

My delivery from Amazon arrived promptly the next day; a bemused driver was struck with the image of a jetpack man flying over the mountains on the box. Not subtle and I’d be leaving one of my scathing reviews tomorrow.

Up in my room, I rushed to remove the packaging, sending it flying across the bedroom. I grabbed the jetpack and stepped to my balcony. This couldn’t be difficult, I told myself, convinced the two controllers would be similar to my games. After all, I was an ace at Minecraft and Sims!

The instruction booklet lay tossed on my Egyptian cream sheets, unopened at the front cover of a red brash warning of ‘read before you operate — ignore at your peril’. Blah! Generation X are so molly-coddled! As if I couldn’t fly a simple jetpack.

I stood on the balustrade and pushed the red button, with a shout I stepped off. I was flying! There followed a big dip and near mid-air tumble but I made it just above the manicured lawn below, narrowly missing the ballroom.

Another burst of power and I was up and away, heading straight to the stables about half a mile away. Skimming over the lake, my feet took a quick paddle, the giant puffy mouths of the koi popping up to try and nibble my toes. 

Looking at my right controller I noticed a dial by the thumb. I’d never seen this on my previous jetpack rides. I reached over with my left hand and turned it.

Suddenly the usual quiet of the landscape and stables turned to a maelstrom of people and horses, the shouts, chatter and neighing reaching crescendo levels, each trying to outdo the other above the din and clatter of the horse drawn-carriages on the cobblestones. The men wore the strangest costumes; tall black top hats and colourful ornate suits. What was the cause of this hub of activity? Had a film company unit hired it? It looked a set fit to film the next big Jane Austen blockbuster.

I was drifting down and right underneath me a man, my age, early 20s, looked up with a startled expression. He promptly turned white and fell backwards as I stepped into a neat landing next to him.

Suddenly he woke up and grabbed my arm.

‘What are you? A flying ghost?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I replied. ‘I’m Katy and you are …’

I left the pregnant pause, waiting for an answer as to his identity. His face was set in a priceless expression of utter bewilderment in the silence.

‘What is your name?’ I asked clearly.

This time he understood, stood up quickly, wiping his hands on his trousers before reaching out.

‘Darcy at your service, ma’am!’

I laughed out loud. As if! Who had put on this elaborate joke for me? My very own Darcy, even if dressed in worker garb in rough white shirt, leather brown vest and dainty long black socks and shoes with a buckle. A small black hat flopped over his head. Of course, my Darcy would turn out to be a stable hand but his manners were to be applauded. 

‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Katy. From whence do you hail?’ He stopped abruptly and realised his question. His hands waved vaguely in the direction of the air, which is in fact where I arrived from and in the process his hands, trying to reach for my arm, touched the dial instead.

That was two weeks ago and since then Darcy has enjoyed his sudden introduction to the end of the twenty-first century once he recovered from his many fainting fits. I had immediately grasped the ‘other’ dimension of the new jetpack — time travel!

How could I not fall for my own Darcy, the genuine article from 1797, so he proclaimed. 

There was one small issue; Darcy longed to return home for just a while. He just wouldn’t listen, after all, he was home, here at Streaton Manor with me, just a couple of centuries out. Why was he making all this fuss?

Darcy hadn’t declared his love for me yet; that would come, I was sure. But I just couldn’t take the chance though, could I? These past days he was always on about my flying jacket, wanting to borrow it. How could I risk this most amazing change in my life? Pa already approved of Darcy although Ma muttered he was rather too dishy. For whom, I wondered?

I couldn’t risk it! I just couldn’t. This way was better for us both. A new start.

Standing from behind the jetpack, I reached over and touched the dial before stepping backwards just as the jetpack disappeared.

Whoosh! Not quite the sound rather more of a pfft but the mesmerising disappearance warranted a fanfare, I thought.

Gasping, I laughed and laughed! I’d done it! Sent the jetpack back in time and Darcy and I would be united forever. All I need was some cash for our new life— £300,000 should do it.

Now, where did I put the warranty for the notorious defective disappearing jetpack? 

The End

©Annika Perry

THE LIST OF SUSPICIOUS THINGS: A BOOK REVIEW

On By Annika PerryIn #books, #NewBook, Book Review, Book Reviews96 Comments

Never before have I had such an eerie feeling while reading a book; the setting, language and actual events of West Yorkshire in 1979 and 1980 have been captured with such precision and skill it was as if I was re-living my childhood having grown up in the county during those years.

At the start of 1979, the UK was at the cusp of  political change with the election of the first-ever female Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher. Closer to the book’s main character’s home county a serial murderer, dubbed the Yorkshire Ripper, continued to terrorise women in the area; the victims brutally attacked with a hammer. Between 1975 to 1980 thirteen women were murdered by Peter Sutcliffe and he attacked seven more. The fear was all-pervasive and the sense of danger was in everyone’s psyche.

To this background, Jennie Godfrey has set an enthralling narrative and one that drew me in before I even started. Like the main character of the book I too was a young girl growing up in Yorkshire at the time of the Yorkshire Ripper murders, experiencing the dark fearful clouds of his existence, the worry of parents, avidly following the news. Unlike the character of the book I at no time thought to try and capture the murderer. This is exactly what young Miv sets out to do, with the aid of her friend Sharon.

In ‘The List of Suspicious Things’ twelve-year-old Miv instantly catches the reader’s attention and never lets it go. Her family life, described with wonderful and memorable ‘70s detail, is askew after her mother suddenly stopped talking and her Aunt Jean moved into the home. Aunt Jean is a typical no -fuss-no-frills woman, outspoken, only to be listened to, she is never afraid to give her opinion on everything and everyone! It is not long before her aunt starts whispering to her father that they need to move away to safety – away from the Yorkshire Ripper.

Overhearing this, Miv, who is a determined and clever girl yet full of self-doubt, comes up with the idea for her and Sharon, to discover the identity of the Yorkshire Ripper and ensure she does not have to move away. The idea of ‘The List of Suspicious Things’ is born. After all, Miv has a huge interest in detective stories, TV shows and films!

Above all else, it is the grit and determination of the main characters and those around them who sweep the reader up and take us into the mindset of their lives.

The girls slowly add names to the list and it weaves an incredibly moving and dramatic cycle of secrets of those in the community and it touches upon themes especially far-reaching at the time. A recently bereaved Pakistani father, Omar, opens a shop in the area and his young son, in the same year as Miv and Sharon soon become friends and they see exactly the racial hatred that the father and son endure daily, a hatred that later plays a key role in the novel. A young librarian, Helen, helping the girls source documents for their research becomes a friend  and they worry at her ‘accident-prone’ nature and ‘over-protective’ husband. A young girl comes to them for help as she is frightened by the choir teacher and his fondness for tickling.

These are but a few of the characters and themes explored in the book. The other characters feature in their own right with sections in the third person of some of them while the first-person narrative from Miv runs throughout the book. The combination is a powerful, warm and fully immersive novel which gripped my attention, the various aspects becoming intertwined. Ultimately Miv and Sharon can help some people on the list, others sadly not.

All the time, the biggest secret of all, remains unmentioned – why did Miv’s mother fall silent? Will Miv ever learn the reason for her mother’s withdrawal into herself?

As one name of a suspect is added to the list, and then crossed off, Miv becomes closer to finding the Yorkshire Ripper than she ever imagined.

The final chapters of the book are riveting, heart-wrenching and heart-warming. Jennie Godfrey writes with a deft and exact touch, ensuring the voice of young Miv is a driving force, allowing us to see her grow through the months as her understanding of the adult world deepens and reminding the reader of the depth of emotions and knowledge of young people. 

Although I am aware that I could be slightly biased towards the book owing to my experience of this era I honestly believe this is a superbly crafted novel with characters galore to win your heart (or to detest in some cases!) as well as an engaging and unique story.  A book that reminds us all of the secret lives of all those around us, even of those closest to us and the pain these secrets can cause oneself and loved ones. 

This is a  book not to be missed and  one I highly recommend. 

I received a free copy of this book from the publishers via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and impartial review.

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

Publication Date: 15th February 2024 

Genre: General Fiction (Adult)

Price:  Amazon UK:      Kindle  Hardback

             Amazon US: – Hopefully it will soon be released in US.

Publisher:  Hutchinson Heinemann,  which is a literary imprint of Penguin Random House UK, Cornerstone

Police searching for evidence in a field above an old Yorkshire mill
The thirteen women murdered by the Yorkshire Ripper between 1975-1980

ONE SENTENCE HOMAGE

On By Annika PerryIn Flash fiction, short story, Writing96 Comments

The winter sun streams through her mother’s living room windows, the  diffused light shining golden upon the January daffodils, a reflection of inner warmth below the star, the Christmas beacon’s final moments for the year, a click and its glow vanishes but not its significance; the yearly ritual practiced with precision and love, actions set deep within her mother’s being, the red star box battered by the years, one side telling its story through the varying coloured sellotape, her children’s eager hands to set up the Christmas Star all those years, a squelch of a step upon the cardboard, the squeal of sadness, now here the brown packing tape and scissors lay prepared for this year’s enshrining, a clean cloth ready to swaddle the bulbs, a bag to encompass the precious ornament, a Christmas light that witnessed her grandson’s first word ‘tar’, a star of light and hope, there it goes, eased from its resting place on the hook, over the curtain railing, lowered with solemnity to the table, the Christmas cloth adorning the surface, the brightness regaling the room, advent candles sparkling in the vast wall mirror, the cascade of light brightening the task at hand, the satisfying pull of tape, the snap of scissors and a brown strip is affixed with consideration upon the red box, just so, there and here, what about another on this side, finally they sit back and admire the handicraft, pause to absorb the memories, the love across generations. 

The End

©Annika Perry, January 2024

word count:  246

The format of the above piece was inspired by a flash fiction winning entry in Mslexia magazine which was written in its entirety of 250 words in one single sentence. 

A TERRIBLE KINDNESS et al

On By Annika PerryIn Goodreads Reading Challenge, short story, Writing148 Comments

Lurking at the edge of the Norwegian wood 

I cower from my evil mother.

Manipulative, domineering, demeaning.

The years of her house rules seemed interminable.

How true; at the seaside nobody hears you scream.

Believe me, I tried!

Like many I learnt to merely exist

Learnt that in the shadows we breathe.

My escape was a winding road

No dash to a happy place

Rather the sheltering of my soul.

‘Life is like a bowl of cherries, Maggie,’ 

my one and only friend told me.

‘That’s the problem, we have no cherries,’

I snapped back.

Poor Amy, she’d tried. She nearly succeeded.

Books became my saviour.

The lilac notebook in the lost bookshop, 

Filled with wise musings and inspiration was

a driving force for my escape.

Then came Leo.

I discovered him between maps and politics

A gentle invitation of coffee followed.

He saw me before I saw myself.

Never believe the lies we told, he said.

So many lies I told myself.

His friendship was a terrible kindness

One that crushed my world, the terrifying duality of my mother and I.

Did I tell you, she was evil?

The visit to the cafe was more than coffee, it was my freedom.

The vanishing of Margaret Small, the old me, was easy.

Learning to walk in someone else’s shoes as Maggie Stolz,  finding my true self, was gruelling.

It was from here where the story starts, where my life truly began.

In the ensuing days, months and years, I abandoned the family tree.

I step out of the darkness of the trees and at last realise there is a light that never goes out – the light within me.

In the five years since meeting Leo I am at last celebrating this beautiful life!

© Annika Perry, January 2024

The above story celebrates some of the 80 books I read in 2023 and it’s fun to create a short narrative featuring a few of the titles. The book titles included are in the list below.

  • Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
  • My Evil Mother by Margaret Atwood
  • House Rules by Jodi Picoult
  • At The Seaside Nobody Hears You Scream by Janet Gogerty
  • The Shadows We Breathe by Sarah Brentyn
  • A Winding Road by Miriam Hurdle
  • Happy Place by Emily Henry
  • The Sheltering by Khaya Ronkainen
  • Life is Like a Bowl of Cherries by Sally Cronin
  • The Lilac Notebook by Carol Notebook
  • The Lost Bookshop by Evie Woods
  • The Lies We Told by Diana Chamberlain
  • A Terrible Kindness by Jo Browning Wroe
  • More than Coffee by Lauren Scott
  • The Vanishing of Margaret Small by Neil Alexander 
  • In Someone Else’s Shoes by Jojo Moyes
  • Where The Story Starts by Imogen Clark
  • The Family Tree by Sairish Hussain
  • In The Five Years by Rebecca Serle
  • There is Light the Never Goes out by David M Barnett
  • This Beautiful Life by Katie Marsh

Below are images of all the books I’ve had the joy of reading last year! I just made it over the finishing line of the Goodreads Reading Challenge in 2023 and this year I am reducing my sights to 52 books! 

Wishing you all a New Year blessed with good health, happiness and light – may 2024 be filled with creativity!

ENVELOPING TRANQUILITY

On By Annika PerryIn Flowers, Gardens, inspiration, Nature, Spirituality121 Comments
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What is it about a tree house that beckons us so alluringly? A structure much loved over the years, one feels it promises so much, to step amongst the tree-tops, reach ever so slightly closer to the sky, feel the sense of mystical as one, for once, gazes down upon the earth.

The tree-house this morning was handily equipped with sturdy steps and railings, no need to clamber through twisted branches, avoiding bare sticks ready to blind and scratch. Handy yet not quite so adventurous!

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Inside the magical tree house, a large branch spiked its way into the centre of the surprisingly spacious wooden crow’s nest and I danced around a little, pausing to admire the view. Before the wood was fully grown one would have been able to look out for over fifteen miles but I did not mind the retreat, nestled and surrounded by many more trees. Safe and secure up here, cosy within Nature’s richness!

Down on the ground the sense of a time warp continued; I left my childhood self playing in the tree house, while my adult being, back on terra firma, wallowed in the immersive tranquility of the gardens. Stepping away from the busyness of everyday life to utter peace, the haven was an abundance of treasures!

I scrunched a path across the deep pile of gravel to absorb the quiet and beauty of the restored Italian Garden.

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A heron majestically flew across the lake at the far end of the gardens.

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The silence in the walled garden was only interrupted by the flitting of the butterflies.

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I stopped to talk to a volunteer gardener about their fragile guests and he said how these numbers were nothing compared to the previous week when he was surrounded by a cloud of butterflies!

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My imagination played riot with this event, conjuring up the wonder of walking among a cloud of butterflies, the sight, the sound and no doubt the sensation of the wings! The picture is still in my mind! I took many photos on this little outing but the image engrained in my brain is from this one line. May I return in time next year to experience this incredible encounter!

After a grey and unusually cool summer in England, the September heatwave was a stunning surprise and an opportunity to enjoy the sunshine. A week later it is time to bid adieu to the summer for real, a tentative cool has swept in, the tart morning chill a fresh and welcome start to the day.

It is that sweet time of year, the flowers still clinging on to some of their resplendence; I’m thankful for the beauty and colour before the starkness of winter.

Note: The photos feature from a visit to The Forgotten Gardens of Easton Lodge, near Dunmow, Essex mid-September which is only open to visitors every Thursday and one Sunday a month.

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THE BOOK OF BEGINNINGS: A BOOK REVIEW

On By Annika PerryIn Book Review, Book Reviews, Fiction104 Comments

Sometimes one just needs an embrace and Sally Page’s The Book of Beginnings is a huge enveloping hug of a novel!

The heart and soul of the book is about friendship and just as the characters in the book became firm friends, I felt just the same reading the chapters, joining them on their trails, their joys, and their journey to finding their true selves. By the end, it was hard to say goodbye to them all.

Within this beautifully crafted novel the author, through the close third person point of view, captures Jo Sorsby as she arrives in London and her uncle’s beloved albeit rather dated stationery shop. Sadly her Uncle Wilbur was recently diagnosed with dementia and Jo’s mother kindly asked if she would mind looking after the shop for a while. The answer was an unequivocal yes. (‘Sometimes a heartbeat is all the time it takes to reach a decision’.) Not only is Jo a stationery nerd with many happy memories of joining her uncle in his beloved place as a child, but she is also suffering following a recent break-up.

Quickly the reader is drawn into the profound loneliness and heartache of Jo’s life which is in the middle of a devastating flux following the break up of her long-term relationship with the infamous James. A man she realised everyone else detested. At last with the care and love from unexpected and unlikely new friends and childhood and work friends, Jo begins to understand James’s manipulation and control over her.

Her salvation is the shop and its quirky set of characters – two especially become her rock.

One is the wonderful and wise Vanishing Vicar, Reverend Ruth. What caused her to suddenly depart her parish home mid-meal? Ruth’s wit, inherent wisdom and kindness help Jo and others around her, yet at times such deep anxiety and sadness overwhelm her. How can Jo come to Ruth’s aid? A septuagenarian called Malcolm is another regular visitor and he seeks shelter in the shop following an accident. The tight-knit trio is formed and it is a joy to follow their quirky and close friendship as their journeys unfold and this includes their excursions to Highgate Cemetery to help Malcolm write his first ghost book; here they flit into the lives of some of the deceased, imagining their conversations.

Furthermore, as Jo begins to revel in the joy of discovering herself along the way she longs to unravel the stories and secrets around her including that of her best friend Lucy since primary school. Why has Lucy suddenly become withdrawn? She feels the distance and loss keenly, aware this is harder to bear than losing James. (‘Could an out-of-step friendship make you feel ill? Now, she thinks it can’)

As the unusual group becomes ever closer, Jo’s new neighbours also become pivotal in her life. Two neighbouring shops are the opticians and a tattoo parlour. Lando and his family become good friends. Meanwhile, Jo slowly begins to realise that Eric The Viking as she mentally labelled the optician, and embarrassingly blathered this out loud to him, could become important to her as they share much more than just a deep interest in fountain pens and poetry! Alas, following various misunderstandings her awakening of her feelings towards him seems to be too late.

Throughout the book, the customers of the shop are a delightful mix of people, their love of all things stationery creating fleeting friendships as she effectively creates a self-help environment.

Sally Page’s writing is superb, skilfully weaving the characters and their stories into this beautiful novel. At times it is almost lyrical, one saying Uncle Wilbur’s sayings runs like a chorus through the book, and Jo quickly realises that her uncle was referring to much more than fountain pens and paper when he said: ‘A place for everything and everything in its place.’ May we all remember this in our own lives!

I love how this wonderful whimsical cross-generational tale of friendship breaks down the barriers of loneliness and isolation faced by people at crisis points; friendships which continue into their everyday lives. After all, ‘the joy of having a best friend was one of humanity’s best-kept secrets.’

I love how quickly I became caught up in Jo’s and her friends’ lives.

I love the warm and engaging writing and story-telling.

I love stationery shops and by the end of the book eager to head out to buy a fountain pen, maybe one like the new ones bought into stock by Jo. Just like her many customers, I too have my own favourite fountain pen story!

Finally, as a huge fan of the author’s debut novel The Keeper of Stories, I am overjoyed to feel that her second novel is even better … I just hope I don’t have to wait too long for her next creative endeavour!

Many thanks to the publisher HarperCollins UK for granting my request to read a pre-release copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and impartial review.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

PUBLISHER: HarperCollins UK

PUBLICATION DATE: 28th September 2023

GENRE: General Fiction (Adult), Romance, Women’s Fiction

AVAILABLE: AMAZON UK: KINDLE PAPERBACK Amazon US – hopefully it will soon be released in US soon.

ABOUT SALLY PAGE

After studying history at university, Sally moved to London to work in advertising. However, in her spare time she studied floristry at night school and eventually opened her own flower shop. She soon came to appreciate that flower shops offer a unique window into people’s stories and eventually she began to photograph and write about this floral life in a series of non-fiction books. Later, she continued her interest in writing when she founded her fountain pen company, Plooms.co.uk.

In her debut novel, The Keeper of Stories, Sally combines her love of history and writing with her abiding interest in the stories people have to tell. Sally now lives in Dorset. Her eldest daughter, Alex, is studying to be a doctor and her youngest daughter is the author, Libby Page.

* TO LOVE A GENIUS

On By Annika PerryIn Art, creativity, Travel123 Comments

Down a narrow side street in a small market town in Suffolk is the entrance to the home of one of Britain’s most renowned artists – Thomas Gainsborough. Born in the town of Sudbury in 1727 the home of his birth and childhood is now a popular and iconic house / museum.

"Modern anglar, red brick building of new gallry space."

In the past few years, the ramshackle previous home has undergone a major refurbishment and it was with excitement and slight trepidation that I headed down the street, past the house from the 1400s to the new main entrance – a bold modern three-storey building.

We were warmly greeted by staff and the new museum was explained in detail. First, we were advised to head to the top floor for panoramic views overlooking the town. What excellent advice and although I know the area well I could not help but be awed by the views of below and especially of the building and garden of our destination – Gainsborough’s House.

"View looking down onto the rear yellow of Gainsborough house, set behind pretty garden with patio seating area for cafe to the left."

Standing there, in the newest of buildings, looking out to one built six hundred years ago, one would expect incongruity, a clash of centuries, but the addition and changes blend thoughtfully and cohesively together.

Once downstairs, having seen a couple of extra exhibitions on the other floors, we pushed open the heavy dark door leading to the start of the visit proper.

"Green silk woven gallery walls and on these a various set of large and smaller paintings by Gainsbrorough. Quite dark and wooden floor."
"Green silk woven gallery walls and on these a various set of large and smaller paintings by Gainsbrorough. Quite dark and wooden floor."

Initially, the dour gloom overwhelmed me before I took a sudden gasp of breath; within the gallery room hangs the most wondrous display of Gainsborough’s paintings.

I had seen many before and it is as if I were welcoming friends. They are perfectly lit.

"Landscape scene with big grey and red lit up sky, trees leaning to the left, hills in the disatnce."

The heavenly light from the landscapes emits its own brightness and life.

"Beautiful close up of painting of horses and carriage, the horses drinking in the river, a man trying to encourage them on."

The portraits are exquisite, the women captured with depth and elegance.

Two women portrait, one in rich pink gown of Georgian era, the other in light blue, both wearing bonnets and a sheep nearby and by a tree with views across the countryside."
Single top of woman, elegant hat and dark dress with white silk ruff and a rose tucked into this."

The men display at times hidden pomposity, ensuring their grandeur and wealth are on display for all. One wonders how the artist had the patience with them all, only to learn he did not! Gainsborough did not enjoy having sitters and probably as a result turned out to be an extraordinarily fast painter.

"Georgian gentlemen in fine red clothes, long white sock carring stick."
"Georgian man with triangular hat, black long coat, gold waitscoat and dog at his fee, surrounded by trees."

All around is such incredible art I can’t help but sit down in the tranquil reverential silence and absorb the magical beauty surrounding me, including the stunning painting of these two dogs, their eyes so full of life I felt they were about to come bounding out the picture.

From this unexpected and dramatic introduction, we headed out to the serenity of the garden. Here an ancient four-hundred-year-old mulberry tree still bears fruit.

The yellow-painted house was just ahead and it was with intrigue I entered the house.

"Close-up of yellow facade of rear of house, showing the routund to the right, the red tils and three arch windows on the lower floor."

As Gainsborough’s House originally dates back to the medieval period some of the original beams from the era are visible. Also on show is an example of the style of the original build using wattle and daub (sticks & mud basically!). Gainsborough’s father, a merchant, ensured the family home was revamped in the modern Georgian style and much of the house remains as such.

On previous visits, the downstairs front room was a higgedly-piggledy collection of a tiny squashed cafe, a little shop corner and displays. Now the beautiful entrance hall leads us to the painting room.

"Shelving to the right with plaster casts of hands and feet, in the centre of the painting room the press and easel and to the right sitters chair with red silk backdrop."

This is the contemporary interior of what would have been a typical studio. As was the norm it is north facing (to avoid issues with changeable shadows through the day) and the room contains a rich array of artefacts. An easel with a canvas by Thomas Gainsborough’s nephew Thomas Gainsborough DuPont, who was the artist’s only assistant, is casually on display while nearby artist’s brushes are set on a wooden table ready to be picked up and used.

"Wooden wooden chest of drawers and on top two boxes, one of traditional painting tools the other of painting blocks. A metal manaqun rest on a chair next to this."

A glass case houses a unique collection of paint bladders – these are small animal bladders which contained the artist’s paint and a wooden stopper to ensure they were kept fresh. A large selection of these were found in the attic and there is good reason to believe they belonged to Gainsborough himself.

"Three colourful painters bladders held by curator with white gloves."

In the middle of the room is a most magnificent Star Printer which creates pictures from copper plate etchings and there is a stunning one made by Gainsborough on display.

"Giant star printer with copper etching pad and rolled picture on it."
'Beautiful etching by Gainsborough of trees by the rivier."

Walking around the house one cannot help but reflect what it would have been like for Gainsborough to grow up here. His passion for painting was nurtured and encouraged by his father and Gainsborough was allowed to leave for London to learn more about the craft aged thirteen. His passion for nature, particularly the county countryside, is evident in his work although he turned to portraits, partly as a necessity to earn a living and he was a great admirer of Van Dyck’s work which is reflected in his paintings.

"Tall staircase leading up, pictures of paintings stuck onto the walls."

Gainsborough’s other love was music and the Music Room upstairs, which is accessed by the elegant and sweeping staircase, houses the country’s only double-manual harpsichord and this dates from 1738.

"Harpsicord, like a grand piano but smaller, the top lid open and on the green walls many paintings."

In the Constable room several of this other famous artist’s work is on display. John Constable was a close friend of Gainsborough and is said to have been influenced by Gainsborough creatively. Constable’s landscapes are legendary and great to see some of the smaller ones here. A case displays some of John Constable’s original set of brushes and also one of the artist’s most treasured items, a model of a horse made by Gainsborough.

"Constables model horse surrounded by other memorbila such as glass and watch."
"Constable's old paint blox and brushes next to model of one of many wooden windmills from the area."

With our hearts and minds replete with art and history we headed back to the garden and the new cafe. In harmonious quiet we contemplated the incredible history on our doorstep, the stunning art in such a close and intimate setting, all in the original home of the great artist. Mulling over the visit, we turned around and laughed – as we enjoyed our cakes we noticed another Gainsborough hanging nonchalantly behind us!

* “We love a genius for what he leaves and mourn him for what he takes away.” Thomas Gainsborough

Bronze statue of Gainsborough in a long overcoat, open to reveal his waist coat and cravat, as he looks over the market square in Sudbury, towards Gainsborough House, pausing from painting and resting a brush on the palette.

“As we look at his pictures we find tears in our eyes and know not what brings them.” John Constable

THE WINDING ROAD: A BOOK REVIEW

On By Annika PerryIn Writing203 Comments

Sadly cancer is a disease that touches nearly all of us. Either by being personally afflicted or knowing family and friends with the illness or even worse, losing or tragically lost their lives to it.

It was during a planned operation that Miriam Hurdle’s cancer was discovered by chance, and just in time to possibly give her some chance of survival. In The Winding Road: A Journey of Survival Miriam Hurdle chronicles her battle with a particularly aggressive and dangerous form of cancer, melanoma on the inner organs. Specialists doctors were consulted and a gruelling ‘treatment’ plan was drawn up, and yet her chance of survival was slim – 10-20%.

Although one might expect a book about cancer to be grim, Miriam Hurdle’s is anything but this. There are two streams of narrative throughout the book and both are perfectly interwoven.

The factual details of her life before, during and after the cancer is full of clarity, as well as being exceedingly informative and explanatory. Interspersed are sections in italic which capture her thoughts, emotions and above all her love for her family and friends.

This enduring love for her husband and her daughter as well as the loving care from her friends is paramount and one feels that they helped boost this courageous woman through some of the toughest imaginable treatments. I imagine she lost count of the loving emails and cards she received as well as the meals cooked and delivered with such thought and kindness.

Although I am not a person with outspoken faith I can understand how Faith gave much support and comfort to the author, particularly during the challenging year of treatment; one feels it almost carried her through.

Throughout the writing is fluid and an extra sense of immediacy is achieved by the use of direct speech; the ones between Miriam and her daughter, Mercy, are incredibly emotive.

I am in awe of Miriam’s strength and perseverance during her cancer battle but also in her courage to revisit the year by writing this book. Her title could not be more apt as it was indeed a long and at times torturous ‘winding road’.

I highly recommend this moving, powerful and inspirational book to all interested in both personal cancer experiences as well as to those wishing to clearly understand what cancer patients are going through or perhaps, sadly if one is personally struggling with the disease.

RATING: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

AVAILABLE:

AMAZON UK: Kindle Paperback

AMAZON US: Kindle Paperback

NOTE:

Miriam Hurdle’s memoir about her cancer ordeal, The Winding Road: A Journey of Survival is one-year-old today July 30th. For two days from Sunday, 12:00 am, July 30 to Monday, 11:59 pm, July 31, 2023, the book will be available for free on Amazon.

ABOUT MIRIAM HURDLE

Miriam Hurdle is a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI). She published four children’s books at twenty-six years old. Her poetry collection received the Solo “Medalist Winner” for the New Apple Summer eBook Award and achieved bestseller status on Amazon. Miriam writes poetry, short stories, memoir, and children’s books. She earned a Doctor of Education from the University of La Verne in California. After two years of rehabilitation counseling, fifteen years of public-school teaching and ten years in school district administration, she retired and enjoys life with her husband in southern California, and the visits to her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters in Oregon. When not writing, she engages in blogging, gardening, photography, and traveling.

Please connect further with Miriam Hurdle on the following links:

Website / Amazon / Author Page / Twitter Facebook

HOMAGE (to an old Oak)

On By Annika PerryIn poetry, The Fenland Black Oak Project, The Jubilee Oak Table, Travel, Writing129 Comments
"My photo of the Jubilee Oak Table in Ely Cathedral. It is taken from one end and one can see the full length down. At the furthest end a group of visitors are gathered, touching the table, peering underneath, reading information leaflets. The table is set in the expanse of the cathedral with lofty stone arches all around."

HOMAGE (to an old Oak)

Beneath God’s arches resides the travelling table,
Its glistening onyx boards a contradiction.

After all, it should not be here,
how is it possible
after its 5000-year journey?

One fair day as the Stone Age drew to a close
an acorn took root amongst the giant oak forests
in the East Anglian Fenlands.

As the moon cast its ethereal light
upon the monumental 60-metre trees
the sapling flourished.

It joined the canopies of the other oaks
Shrouding the people beneath
Protecting, becoming part of their landscape.

This, the Jubilee Oak, was indestructible.
Until the world altered.
Until the sea levels rose.
Roots loosened, it crashed
To its airless grave.

Untouched for five millennia
Resting in the pitch black of peat
A preserver.
Untouched until the 21st Century,
When at last
Unearthed!

Fourteen metres of black oak
released from its shroud of earth
Fourteen metres of jet-black oak trunk
Survived, intact.

The magical fusion of the ground’s iron and
the tree’s tannins
creating the black in the oak
ensuring this holy grail of wood.

Experts consulted, advised and directed,
a sawmill from Canada flew to help
To saw on site
Ten perfect consecutive boards.

With the craft of carpentry
the combination of skill and passion
the unity of artistry and knowledge
ALL paid HOMAGE to the beloved Oak Tree

A table designed, boards planed and dried.
The Table for the Nation completed.

In majesty, it resides beneath God’s arches.

Now it is time to pay OUR respects.

In reverential silence, visitors gaze upon the table,
making a pilgrimage along its length
Then back up on the other side.

Fingers caressing the boards, eyes admiring the sheen
of darkness. A play of light and dark,
An incongruous anomaly in reality.

Now and then people bend down,
Admiring the copper sheath below,
Then up they appear,
once again walking along
tracing the winding mysterious curves of the boards

Sweeping curves mirroring
the expansive Fenland Landscape,
as sweeping as the sea that failed to devour it.

The black oak
Present
In all its glory.

©Annika Perry, June 2023

"A close-up of the table showing the beautiful patina of the wood."

Note: The above post was inspired by a visit to view the Jubilee Oak tree while it was in residency at Ely Cathedral, Cambridgeshire, UK. (It is currently at Rochester Cathedral, Kent.) The table was unveiled in honour of HM Queen Elizabeth II in 2022, the year of the Platinum Jubilee and hence its name.

The ancient oak trees grew to a height of 60 metres (197 feet) and dwarf oaks of today whose average height is about 20 metres (65 feet).

Read more about The Fenland Black Oak Project here.

"A cross-section of the table, showing the varying sheen of dark to light brown surface and highlighting the beautiful sweeping planed wood."