Back in Time

The weather was glorious for the 40s event down at the station this weekend. The family were visiting for Grandma's birthday so we strolled down the lane after lunch for an afternoon of nostalgia, atmosphere and fabulous clothes.

We didn't have time for a trip down the line or see the entertainment at the other stations unfortunately, but the three little boys we had between us (and the two bigger ones) seemed to get just as much out of watching the engines chug up and down the line, peering in the beautiful old cars and noseying around the military vehicles.

For Grandma, sister-in-law and myself though it was the music and clothes that made our day. I love 40s music and really enjoyed Victory Belle's performance in the NAFFI tent. Lovely dress too. Is it ok to have snood envy?

This lady particularly looked the part. Even her newspaper was from 1940. The atmosphere was wonderful and rather surprising sometimes.

I hadn't expected to bump into a German colonel and the Dad's Army gang too!

Great fun for free and on the doorstep. Just my cup of tea - if rationed.

Stepping Back in Time

This is Woody messing about trying to take my picture while I was trying to put on proper red lipstick - I've never worn it before!

It's not very often is it that just about everything comes together, at just the right time and you really do have the time of your life. Last night Woody and I went to the much anticipated 1940s Spring Dance and I spent much of the afternoon in complete turmoil.

One minute I was wondering if the evening would be any good, the next I was struggling with my rollers, then worrying about looking ridiculous and fretting that Woody was really only coming along to be nice and wasn't looking forward to it all.

As we left home a gale was blowing and we had to dash from the car park across to the Guildhall (when we'd eventually found it!) in the pouring rain. I was really beginning to feel that things weren't boding well. What an earth had I roped us into? Getting dressed up and pretending to do something from very dark-days past when we could easily be at home, tucking into a nice treat and cosying up by the fire!

But then, somebody flicked the switch and into the time-machine we went. The low building with the deep-red, wooden doors beckoned and we followed a gent in a very smart suit inside, through a red velvet curtain and all of a sudden - stepped into 1941.

My flash is hopeless, the photos just don't do justice to the colour and liveliness of it all.

Two beautiful young ladies, with perfectly curled hair and diamante earrings, took our tickets with red smiles and laughing eyes. The room, (a bit like a big village hall, but with a stage draped in velvet, a raised platform to the side and a balcony) was already very busy.

During the war regular dances were held at the Guildhall and it still has the fantastic original sprung floor and last night the walls and ceiling were decked with Allied flags, propaganda posters and plenty of union jack bunting. We grabbed a drink from the bar and found a corner seat, next to the stage, with a fabulous view of the dance floor and settled in for the best evening's entertainment I think I've ever had.

There were so many people there, all ages and from all walks of life. Lots of American airmen, several Land Girls, a sparkling US Navy man and a couple of rather dashing RAF officers. Woody was rather wowed by the wife of a German SS officer, (a wonderful dancer in a brilliant scarlet trouser suit) but I warned him about fraternising with the enemy! We met some lovely people, it was such a fun and friendly atmosphere and we felt really right at home.

Brilliant lindy-hoppers, jivers and waltzers filled the bouncing floor all night, sometimes dancing to the gramophone hits I adore, others to the amazing vocals of the wonderfully glamorous Miss Lola L'Amour.

I must admit that despite the Guinness, Woody didn't fancy taking to the floor himself but he enjoyed the night so much I am chuffed to bits, I can't explain how much. My lovely bloke is a man who isn't exactly overflowing with expressions of delight and believe me, impressing a cynical journalist is not an easy thing. Last night though Woody couldn't stop saying how much he was enjoying himself, what a great atmosphere there was and wasn't it lovely for us to be doing something together.

Not the original dress I bought. I saw this new, Laura Ashley number for £4 on Ebay and it just looked the part. I couldn't resist.

What's so wonderful is that after eight years together we've suddenly discovered a shared passion, a new interest for dancing and music that neither of us really knew the other had.

So dancing lessons together beckon (Woody's idea - there's been a miracle!), a visit to a hotel in the city-centre where a big band practice with Lola L'Amour and a trip to another dance in Cheshire next month.A little dream of mine has come true and has turned into something even better. Off to scan EBay now for a frock for next time!

Cinders, you shall go the ball!

Well a dance actually but yes, I am really going to a proper dance, just like the ones in the James Herriot novels I dreamt of, mournfully, as teenager because I truly thought that age had passed.

But no, it seems so many people still hanker after the era of getting properly dolled up, practicing their finest moves and waiting in anxious anticipation for an..."excuse me, may have this dance", that a Spring Dance, (40s dress encouraged - hurrah!) is being held the Saturday after Easter at the Guildhall - and I'm going!

Let me tell you, I am physically giddy with expectation, there is only one slight problem. Neither me or my date ...(Woody - can you believe it! I think he thinks he owes me one for being the strong-ish woman behind the comedy night).... can dance! Oh dear.

I'm actually going for a few dance lessons before the big night, although Woody is completely adamant that "he's not dancing", but I have a sneaky plan. For now I am acting very innocently and keep exclaiming "oooh neither will I, too embarrassing, I just want to drink in the atmosphere etc" and then I'll ply him with a couple of lager shandies and, fingers crossed, we might manage an awkward shuffle around the outer reaches of the dancefloor.

For years I've wanted to learn to dance but never plucked up the courage. I bought some big band music a while ago though and its completely infectious, my feet won't keep still. I suppose Strictly Come Dancing has made me feel like it could be really an option for someone, as inactive as me, to get up and give dancing a whirl (shamefully my only real exercise is the 3/4 mile walk to school, then back, a few times a week).

(very glamorous but a touch scary? think I'll go for something a bit more human, like letting my face move!)

I'm probably most excited about the dolling up bit, not much of a chance for that thesedays. I've already done a few charity shop trawls for a frock (something hopefully floral or with polka dots), I've got an ebay bid in for some shoes, found some silk stockings complete with stripe (goodness knows who will come across this blog now I've posted that!) and I'm planning on snaffling Eechie's new, miracle tongs to perfect the perfect waves.

Do you think my nostalgia trip has gone a bit too far? I'm reading The Land Girls by Angela Huth at the moment and I'm completely immersed in it and the evocative descriptions of Britain at war. I hope I don't come across as flippant or as if I'm trying to glamorise an awful time, but again, its really helping to put me in touch with my grandparents heyday, which is lovely because I do miss them so much.

So, I promise to post pictures after the event and will report on my first dance class on Tuesday. Wish me lots and lots of luck - I have two, very definite, left feet! All tips/advice on clothes, make-up and the vital dancing all very gratefully received!

***Thank you to everyone for all you lovely comments. I appreciate them all so very much. Your kind words, advice and encouragement mean the world to me. Thank you for saying hello, for returning and for always making me smile.***

This Englishwoman's home is her castle

I haven't really blogged about the other side of my life really, the alternative side to my passion for vintage treasures, floral things and cottage gardening - well, here goes.

My heart really lies in the 13th century - honestly it does! As a child my parents took us on lovely holidays to Wales and the West Country and as everyone who grew up here knows, the weather is often pretty rubbish so instead of getting wet and cold on the beach, mum and dad took us to castles and cathedrals and enchanted us with tales of knights and ladies and for me it inspired a live times' fascination with "the olden days".

From stories about the mason who might have built a pillar we were looking at in Exeter cathedral when I was 8, I ended up studying medieval history at university, dabbling in a bit of living history re-enactment to running the 800th anniversary market charter celebrations for Leek earlier this year. The TV programme Robin of Sherwood (and ok i admit the rather lovely Michael Praed and Jason Connery) had a huge influence on me when I was a young teenager and from there I got really interested in 'bad' King John and thesedays I'm gripped by most of the issues during his reign which was only years from 1199 to 1216, which considering there's been eight centuries since then, its a bit odd to know a lot about such a short period of time but anyway, that's me.

For me its an amazing period in our history, full of adventure and daring-do and I think its a shame that so few films or tv programes are made about this time, especially when there seems to be wall-to-wall stuff about the Romans (again!) and the Tudors (oh no, not again!).

Sir Barney guards the keep staircase

As you can imagine, having two small boys I've been just waiting for the day that they get interested in knights and castles so that I can bore them rigid with the intricacies about mail shirts, how castles were built, why when knights fell off their horses they weren't really stuck helpless in the mud and all that caper and - hurrah - Barney has just adopted some of my childrens' castle books and wants to know more. So, this weekend we went to one of my favourite places having promised to take him to a 'proper' castle. (We live close to Peveril Castle in the Peak District which is very dramatic but a bit small for a little boy expecting a whopper.) Richmond in North Yorkshire is wonderful and we've enjoyed a lovely day up there before. I love it not just for the castle but it has a lovely market, gorgeous shops, beautiful river walk and the town is so pretty. I didn't have any joy treasure hunting in the charity shops but got the most lovely Christmas card of Richmond for Woody as he loves it there, but I'll wait to show it on here until Christmas.

View of the semi-circular marketplace from the top of the keep

It was the perfect day, the journey there and back was a breeze and the weather was grey but dry. Barney and I explored the keep and Woody played 'jousting' with the boys on the grass to the sound of much squealing. 'Sir' Barney and 'Sir' Archie are now fully equipped with wooden swords and shields and the castle you'll be pleased to hear is safe from dragons.

I love day trips at this time of year when you can really enjoy the fantastic colours and the atmosphere is magical. Richmond is one of my special places along with Port Isaac and Ludlow and has a very special place in my heart.