Local love: Briddlesford

Briddlesford has long had a great little farm shop. It’s a welcome stop for supplies mid-bike ride, and has plenty of yummy goodies and local produce. What with the good thing they already had going, I was excited when I first heard of their plans to open Bluebells Cafe. And they didn’t disappoint. The distances people travel (by Island standards) to come for a bite to eat here is testament to it’s greatness.

Today, we travelled here via Combley Great Wood. Tom and I are both reading books on trees and enjoyed exploring this unfamiliar spot. After a few wrong-turns and running back for missing gloves, we were pretty hungry. After all, half the point of a walk is the well-deserved cup of tea at the end.

This great little place gives me business envy. With good strong coffee, plenty of local food options and friendly staff, Bluebells is a treat. The polished concrete floor, woodburner and lush loos (yes, it matters!) just add to it’s perfect-stop status. This feels like local business at it’s best.
We never found the missing glove, but we did go home with full tummies and plans to return soon.

A pyrenean read

Tom bought me “Love and War in the Pyrenees” for our first year anniversary. We spent our honeymoon hiking in the Pyrenees and I was looking forward to a revisit of the beautiful scenery and a bit of a love story amidst the pages. I hadn’t really taken into account the ‘war’ part of the title and found this book a far more harrowing read than I’d expected. Sure, I studied the Second World War at school, and I guess I could regurgitate some names and dates; but the personal stories of struggle and resistance in this book, set in the familiar backdrop of this part of the world I love so much, hit me much harder.

These mountain passes are difficult enough in perfect sunshine, with a pack full of food and the promise of a warm bed at the end of the day. Even with Bailey’s fantastic writing, it is hard to imagine how so many refugees covered these routes in such hard conditions. True tragedies can be a depressing read, and perhaps that is why it’s taken me six months to getting around to reading this book. It is almost impossible to believe the extent of man’s inhumanity to man, but equally incredible to read of the stories of resistance, bravery, and kindness. This book has certainly given me a different perspective on this part of the world. And whilst there is always an argument for simply soaking up the beauty of a place in the moment, this little bit of history has made me marvel at these mountains all the more.

The road home

I’ve just returned from a week of work Up Mainland, commuting daily by motorway. What a difference from Island roads! Such a crush of moving metal, with an unfamiliar view of miles of straight tarmac ahead. A thirty mile journey is no more that a quick zip down the road, and the soundtrack is more Beastie Boys than Beasts of Seasons. The ease and speed were a treat, but I was glad to return to Island roads. Their winding eccentricities and routes formed over centuries of natural pathfinding offer daily variety. The light through the morning mist is never the same twice, and the many lanes make a different journey home possible every day of the week. These small, slow roads have changed my perspective of distance, making 10 miles a sizeable journey, and a trip to another town a serious proposition. Some bemoan the inefficiency of it, the ‘Island Mentality.’ But this is part of the charm of the place. It slows you down, makes you enjoy the journey, and reminds you that the car is only one of its many users. Tomorrow I’ll be off enjoying it on two wheels.

Simple

I’ve enjoyed clearing the house of the yuletide explosions of fairy lights, gingerbread men and pine needles, and have welcomed in the new year in all its slate-clean glorious grey. Tom and I took a wander to the far East of the Island this morning, and admired the end of the land..

Up on the top of windy Tennyson Down, it was chilly enough to justify Christmas jumpers and I revelled in the ravelry, as is my usual habit.

We stopped for a simple cup of tea (and mighty slabs of cake) at Dimbola Lodge, catching the last day of the fabulous exhibition of local artist Liz Cooke. Between the chilled shelves laden with cakes, are glass-fronted cabinets of beautiful old camera equipment, while upstairs is filled with the big eyes of Cameron’s 19th century portrait subjects. This corner of Freshwater Bay is a beautiful spot for a simple January day.

Wovember

I know I can be fickle, but I think November must be my favourite month. It’s finally got cold enough to start layering up the wool, and a little fibre appreciation is inevitable.

Wool, oh stuff of wonder! What a pleasure it is to choose from any myriad of colour and texture, slubby or lacey, bright or heathered. Howies do fantastic merino wool for tramping off into the cold, and Etsy offer enticing wooly goodies for any number of uses. Nothing is as warm, wearable, and pleasing as a big woolly jumper, and if you fancy knitting one yourself, Ravelry is a good place to start. With the winter holidays fast approaching, I’m getting my knitting speed on amidst gifting plans. Now that it’s colder I might have to admit to getting a little excited about Christmas.

This is the month for wool, in all its wonders. No wonder some call it Wovember.)