Favourite Poetry - Stag's Leap

Unspeakable

Now I come to look at love

in a new way, now that I know I'm not

standing in its light. I want to ask my

almost-no-longer husband what it's like to not

love, but he does not want to talk about it,

he wants a stillness at the end of it.

And sometimes I feel as if, already,

I am not here - to stand in his thirty-year

sight, and not in love's sight,

I feel an invisibility

like a neutron in a cloud chamber buried in a mile-long

accelerator, where what cannot

be seen is inferred by what the visible

does. After the alarm goes off,

I stroke him, my hand feels like a singer

who sings along him, as if it is

his flesh that's singing, in its full range,

tenor of the higher vertebrae,

baritone, bass, contrabass.

I want to say to him, now, What

was it like, to love me - when you looked at me,

what did you see? When he loved me, I looked

out at the world as if from inside

a profound dwelling, like a burrow, or a well, I'd gaze

up, at noon, and see Orion

shining - when I thought he loved me, when I thought

we were joined not just for breath's time,

but for the long continuance,

the hard candies of femur and stone,

the fastnesses. He shows no anger,

I show no anger but in flashes of humour

all is courtesy and horror. And after

the first minute, when I say, Is this about

her, and he says, No, it's about

you, we do not speak of her.

from Stag's Leap, by Sharon Olds, who has won the TS Eliot Poetry Prize

The Joys of Bird Feeding

The old garden wall with the hazel tree on the left

I have never fed wild birds as I believed that once begun, one had to be consistent and continue to feed, otherwise the birds would starve in cold weather. I was probably wrong, but I now have a country garden where I can maintain regular feeding and have therefore set up some feeding stations on and beneath a fine hazel tree in my garden in Hampshire.

Old Swan House with the hazel tree hung with feeders, with the robin feeding station at its base The urn feeds the pigeons

The hazel tree is now a busy feeding station full of bird life with three bird feeders - two hanging and one - specially for robins - on the ground. Tits crowd the feeders and the garden robin hops delightedly on his wooden frame as he pecks the delicacies out of his special mix.

The garden robin with his feeder

And the urn in the foreground has been pressed into service as an additional feeder - for pigeons and doves. It remains to be seen whether the local squirrels will come and help themselves as well, but all are welcome.

Sally Macpherson 1940 - 2012

Sally Macpherson

My dear friend Sally Macpherson - who I knew mostly as Sally Wilson-Young - died in November 2012. She was an extraordinarily lovely person - a bright light full of energy, talent and charm. She passed across the the Meon Valley like comet, brightening the lives of all around her.

At her Funeral Service at the Grosvenor Chapel in South Audley St in London her step-son, Andrew Stafford-Deitsch spoke so beautifully about her that his words below best serve as her tribute. I have been given his eulogy by her daughter Amanda, who looked after her wonderfully in her final months.

'Sally was born in Cincinnati in 1940 to Dale and Eloise Grace.  They lived outside Cincinnati and Dale ran the family dairy business.  Sally actually worked there for one summer job, which resulted in a life long hatred of ice cream, at least until the very end when she took to having ice cream, cream and butter with everything!  She had two siblings, Kathleen and Michael and in spite of lots of differences, Sally and Kathleen shared a common determination from the earliest age to get to New York.  Sally’s childhood years were focused on ballet, followed by horses and then art and she majored in History of Art at Bradford junior college in Massachusetts.

In 1961, she went to New York and worked in publishing and in art galleries.  There she met my father Peter, who had, by then, been divorced from my mother for several years and they were married in 1964.  Amanda was born in May 1966 and by all accounts they were very happy.

I don’t remember the wedding but I do remember a beautiful apartment on 5th Avenue with a view of the park and a lovely warm feel to it.  I also remember several holidays with my father and brothers when, of course, Sally was very much in evidence.  Being a typically horrible 10 year old product of divorced parents, I was determined not to like Sally.  She and I were about the same height at that point and I vividly remember one squabble during which I was pulling her hair and she was biting me or perhaps it was the other way round but my heart really wasn’t in it.  I had already realised that as well as being pretty she was actually a lot of fun and a moment later - and much to the relief of my father - we both starting laughing and ceased all hostilities.

And she was certainly very pretty - her two beautiful daughters are evidence of that!

My father’s early death in 1970 was an awful shock to all of us, but particularly for Sally.   They had only been married for six years and Peter was not yet 45.  Nonetheless and true to form, she recovered quickly and moved on to marry David Wilson- Young with whom she had Ian in 1975 and Olivia in 1979.  At first they lived in Mexico but by 1974 they had moved to Jervis Lodge in Swanmore which they turned into a most elegant home.  They loved to entertain friends and family there and they went on many wonderful trips together as David’s job took him all around the world.

David couldn’t always take Sally with him and he was away a lot which left Sally alone in a strange country which must have been hard.  In The White Cliffs, Alice Duer Miller wrote:

The English are frosty
When you’ve no kith or kin
Of theirs, but how they alter
When once they take you in!
The kindest, the truest,
The best friends ever known,
It’s hard to remember
How they froze you to the bone.

In fact, of course, Sally’s Americanness was attractive in itself and positively exotic in rural Hampshire.  Sally had great taste and she applied it in many ways.  She was always immaculately and stylishly dressed, and she made her houses beautiful as well as homely and welcoming.  She achieved her effects with minimal fuss and just a few well chosen and probably rather expensive objects to hold one’s attention.   Many I spoke to talked of the wonderful atmosphere that Sally created - often in her white apron doling out food to masses of people and loving every moment.  Her cooking was really superb and she produced delicious, imaginative, creative meals with no apparent effort. She commented to one friend that she wasn’t sure she’d ever get through the pearly gates - she thought she would most probably be stuck at the entrance with her wooden spoon and whisk serving up another huge meal!

In talking about Sally, her sense of fun comes up again and again.  She had a great sense of the ridiculous and her infectious laughter was never far away but the word that was used more than any other was “loyalty”.  She was truly interested in what everyone was doing, immensely supportive of any new project or relationship and always ready to help.  I heard that she called one close friend-in-distress every morning to make sure that she was okay.  She had a rare ability to help without imposing.

But there was much more to Sally than compassion, excellent cooking and great style.  She retained her strong interest in art and, although she stopped painting watercolours fairly early on, she was very knowledgeable and enthusiastic.  I heard that visiting an exhibition with her was a delight as she was so well informed and discerning.  She also bought many good paintings which could be seen on the walls of her beautiful houses.

Her interest in design led, perhaps inevitably, to gardening and despite reservations about an American telling the English how to do their gardens, she had the style and sensitivity to generate steady business, as well as many admirers, with her garden designs.  I’m happy to say that we are lucky enough to have one of her gardens at home and it gets better with every year.  Far from imposing her opinions, she listened carefully to what we wanted and then created around it.  I have to admit that all the best bits are hers. Quite remarkable for someone who used to tell us that when she was in New York she couldn’t even keep a window box alive!

Sally’s interests and achievements were much broader even than the art and gardening to which I have already referred.  Her cheerful good nature hid a determined streak and masses of energy so that when a new interest captured her imagination, or a problem needed to be addressed, she really worked at it. She was very tenacious.  Problems got solved.  New challenges were mastered.

Having learned the piano as a child, she adored music and was a keen fan first of ballet and then of opera.  She also wanted everyone else to share her passions.  Amanda says that by the time she was 15 she had seen 100 ballets and was thoroughly hooked.  Sally was rather less successful in persuading Ian of the merits of opera.  He would go, dreaming of boxing matches missed, and afterwards assure Sally that he had really enjoyed the performance!

She read widely and well into the night and was keen to discuss books with anyone who showed an interest.  She claimed to be unable to add 2 plus 2 and yet she became a keen Bridge player and really enjoyed it.  Completely unknown to me, Sally was also an accomplished skier and had even bagged a stag in Scotland having spent the day flirting with an apparently rather good looking young stalker twice her height and half her age!

When, finally she moved to Steadham House in Droxford, latterly with her third husband Rory, she brought with her all the skill and expertise that she had acquired over the years and managed on that relatively tiny canvas still to create a delightful house and garden.  It offered all the warmth and welcome of Jervis Lodge but on a smaller scale and the quality of the cooking and entertaining was at least maintained as Rory introduced a new group of interesting and cultured friends into the mix.

But to return to the theme of loyalty, this, I think was what most defined Sally to all of us.  She adored her family above everything and was immensely and rightly proud of her children and grandchildren.  She was delighted when Jimmy and then Jaine joined the family and wanted more than anything to see the next stages in the lives of all of them and indeed of all of us.  Particularly toward the end, it was sometimes difficult to get her to talk about herself at all-she wanted to be updated on everyone else first and she delighted in the detail and in discussing what it all meant and where it all would lead.  She dismissed her own problems as if they merited no mention.

To everyone I spoke to, Sally was an exceptional friend, a friend in need, generous, and extravagant - wildly so on occasion - with no understanding of money and no idea why people got so upset about the stuff.  She liked to give good presents and good parties: whether she could really afford them was a secondary consideration.  She didn’t judge people, she looked for the best in them and then used her sense of humour to extract it and there was always laughter - gales of it.

She will be greatly missed by all of us.'

Below is a photo of Sally and friends at one of the annual lunches given by B'lin and Will Martin at Hill Farm. She's on the grass, third from the left. It's appropriate because it includes many of her close friends, all of whom miss her terribly to this day.

Left to right, standing: Di Gibb, Geoff Spawton, Chris Gibb, Annie Spawton, Will Martin, Anthony Provest, Julian Pearson , Sandra Wake, Nick Duke, Herry Lawford, Mike Lawford, Peter Cartwright, Pauline Provest, Sheila Proffit, Jane Lovell, Ian Hay, Richard Lovell, Erica Hay, Val Pile.

Front row: Anna-Maria Pearson, Charlie Madge, Terry Porter, Wendy Cartwright, Ayako Lawford, Penny Lawford, Sally Wilson-Young, Prue, Belinda Martin

Sally, Annette and Patrick Lawford and Prue at a holiday in the South of France 1976

The Wellbeing of Women Christmas Fair 2012

The Wellbeing of Women Christmas Fair was held as is now customary at the Drapers' Hall, on 3rd December 2012. Click here for some photos from the event. 

More Frosty Walks

The Itchen at Gatersfield with St Catherine's Hill beyond

At the Drapers' Hall

Drapers' Hall set for a Livery dinner

On Tuesday 20th November, I had the pleasure of inviting the 'gentle author' of my favourite blog, Spitalfields Life, to the Drapers' Hall so that he could include it in his series on the cultural and business life of the east end of London. We were lucky enough to be shown round the Hall by the Archivist, Penny Fussell, who gave us a detailed tour of the principal rooms and artefacts and told us of their history. The 'gentle author' surprised us by bringing with him some marvellous old slide prints of the Hall dating from the early 1900s which he had obtained from the Bishopsgate Institute (which takes a splendidly enlightened attitude to sharing its treasures), and some of these have been incorporated into his article juxtaposed with colour photos of the Hall today. Some will recognise in the photos the rooms used in films like 'The King's Speech' (where it appears as parts of Buckingham Palace), but few will realise that the Hall was once the home of Thomas Cromwell, made newly infamous in Hilary Mantel's novels 'Wolf Hall' and specifically, 'Bring Up The Bodies'.

Click here to read the article.  

You can also visit the Hall on 3rd December 2012, for the Wellbeing of Women Christmas Fair

Autumn Walks

St Catherine's Hill from  St Cross Water Meadows on a frosty November morning


Why don't we look forward to November more when it can make our favourite views look like this?
Click here for more photos

Winchester Cycle Way

The Shared-Use Path beside the Itchen Navigation Canal

A new shared-use path has been created by Sustrans and the Hampshire and Winchester Councils along the Itchen Navigation Canal below St Catherine's Hill to join Cycle Network 23 between Alresford and Southampton. Some of the new path is built on an old railway line across Garnier Road and part of it will make use of the viaduct at Hockley.

The path has been beautifully tarmac'd and is smooth and wide, good for both cycling and walking, and it passes through lovely woods alongside the canal. Sensible instructions have been given as to how it should be shared between cyclists and pedestrians.

It's a wonderful path and should become well-used. Click here for some photos of the path under construction. 

Favourite Poetry - Any Woman

Any Woman

I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.

I am the fire upon the hearth,
I am the light of the good sun,
I am the heat that warms the earth,
Which else were colder than a stone.

At me the children warm their hands;
I am their light of love alive.
Without me cold the hearthstone stands,
Nor could the precious children thrive.

I am the twist that holds together
The children in its sacred ring,
Their knot of love, from whose close tether
No lost child goes a-wandering.

I am the house from floor to roof,
I deck the walls, the board I spread;
I spin the curtains, warp and woof,
And shake the down to be their bed.

I am their wall against all danger,
Their door against the wind and snow,
Thou Whom a woman laid in a manger,
Take me not till the children grow! 

Katharine Tynan

Autumn - A View by Stubbs?

The Itchen at Winchester

The light and scents of autumn are unmistakeable, even before the leaves have started to turn. The Chinese say that autumn begins on 8th August. A melancholy thought, though we mustn't forget what Beaudelaire and Coleridge taught us about the seasons.