"By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer’s best of weather
And autumn’s best of cheer."-   Helen Hunt Jackson, September, 1830-1885

I wonder how many people enjoyed last week's sunsets as much as I did.
From the back of my house I have wonderful views
of the sun going down and only a short time later
I can walk to the front and see the moon rising above the rooftops.

7.30 pm The sun sinks lower and the sky turns orange.

But on Sunday morning the swallows were swooping and diving across the sky or perching 

impatiently on telegraph wires as they prepared for their long flight to warmer climes.

And in the afternoon, Raby Castle near Staindrop welcomed a crowd of visitors on their Heritage Open Day. The 15th century walled garden, with an almost unbelievable riot of colour from its display of roses, was admired by many people while others paid a visit to the castle itself or explored the extensive parkland. A day to remember whatever their choice.

Introduction to Theatre

At a Food Festival in the stately grounds of Raby Castle a few weeks ago, I was surprised to hear children shrieking with laughter and shouting at the tops of their voices. When I turned a corner I discovered that the cause of the excitement was a Punch and Judy Show.

Mr. Punch at Raby Castle Food Fair.

In this age of Computers and High Tech equipment it was surprising to think that this old-established show could still hold their attention.  According to the date on the front of the booth, the show originated in 1662. Research shows that originally Punch did not have a wife and when she did appear in the 18^th century her name was Joan, not Judy.

Ever since then it has been performed all over the country - in village fairs and city streets and even before open windows of graceful Georgian houses where Papas had arranged it.

Punch and Judy has often been a child’s first introduction into the world of theatre. The more violent it is, the more the audiences love it. Punch slaps characters over the head with his club; hits the policeman and hangs people; he even hangs the hangman with his own noose and when the crocodile takes a bite at Punch’s nose the children scream louder than ever.

It is timeless humour.  Long may it continue.

      What do you think of Punch and Judy?         

                 Do you love it or hate it?

Gardens in May

A Mammoth Task

Raby Castle near Staindrop is a perfect place to be on a fine May day.  Walk in the acres of parkland where the deer roam freely; or sit in the 18^th century garden with its ornamental pond and wide view of the castle; or find a quiet seat to read or create a story.

But the most dramatic feature of the gardens must be the Cloud Hedges; twice as high as a man and almost the same thickness. They are Yew, the darkest green and they’ve been there for 230 years.  According to the Head Gardener, it takes six weeks to clip them all, starting at the end of August and lasting until the middle of October. What an incredible achievement.

In contrast

Russell Square

garden in London is contained between busy roads and tall dense buildings and is obviously appreciated by all those people who live without gardens of their own. It is beautifully planted with herbaceous borders and gentle hedges and lime trees trained to provide a covered walk – all in the shade of trees that have been there since the park was created.

Near Waterloo Station in the heart of the city, traffic constantly roars past the sky-high buildings and even the trains are above eye-level, but turn a corner and discover a haven of peace – a beautifully kept garden surrounding the church of St John the Evangelist.  Satisfied pigeons sit contentedly on the smooth lawn.

The special feature of this garden is the mosaic work; small toadstools peeping out from under the trees and large benches big enough for 3 or 4 people, as well as a semi circle of seats near the entrance.  And around them all, beautiful flower-beds, tall roses and a small herb garden offer an escape from the busyness of the city.

                 "Our England is a garden, and gardens are not made by singing:-
                   'Oh How beautiful!' and sitting in the shade .
                                                            Rudyard Kipling, "The Glory of the Garden."