I love the quiet period between Christmas and New Year. It’s a time for reading, watching old films and catching up with friends and family. Oh, and lots of muddy dog walks!
But, having recently finished the second book in my Book Lovers series, I knew it wouldn’t be long until I found my way back to the keyboard, eager to make a start on the next novel and, when inspiration struck, we found ourselves heading down to the beautiful Sussex Weald to a very special house …
Bateman’s is the Jacobean manor house sitting in the heart of the Dudwell Valley. It belongs to the National Trust and was once the home of author Rudyard Kipling and it was glorious to see it all decked out for Christmas.
I knew at once that this would be the setting of my next novel and there must have been something very special in the Sussex air because I’ve already written 10,000 words!
It’s a novel about love, loss, family and renewal. And gardening! Because there is a fabulous walled garden at Bateman’s that I simply can’t ignore.
One of our Thrush Green flock – named after characters from Miss Read’s wonderful novels – Ella came to Mulberry Cottage to begin her retirement in May 2014 and she was in a bit of a state with bald patches all over her body. But she made her presence known with her very loud bawping. You could always tell when Ella was around – she was the most vocal hen I’ve ever met!
Luckily, Ella grew most of her feathers back in time for her first winter!
But I made sure she had plenty of warm cuddles just to be on the safe side!
Always curious, always adventurous, Ella discovered that you could reach the elderberries if you jumped onto one of the nest boxes!
But life wasn’t always fun. There were a few health problems including trouble with egg laying and a horrible sinus infection which blew up the left-hand side of her face. So in she came for extra care and attention.
As this summer came to an end, our Ella began to slow down, taking little naps during the day and fluffing up her feathers so that she resembled a splendid golden football. I knew her time was approaching but it didn’t make the goodbye any easier.
Winnie – one of our ‘Thrush Green’ girls named after characters from the novels by Miss Read – came home with us in May 2014 with her ‘sisters’ Agnes, Ella and Violet.
She was a bright, sparky girl who immediately embraced her new free-ranging life.
And it didn’t take her long to regrow all her feathers and turn a beautiful pale gold.
Winnie had a strong personality and was particularly bossy when we introduced our new flock in August, putting the new girls firmly in their place.
But she was slowing down dramatically, taking little naps in the day and needing a helping hand to get into the coop each evening.
We’re going to miss you, darling Winnie. You made us smile and laugh and we’ll love you forever!
And the Nancy Blackett was the boat that featured as ‘Goblin’ in my favourite Ransome novel, We Didn’t Mean to go to Sea, so it was a really special experience to be part of the crew along with our skipper and mate.
One of the most wonderful things about sailing is that you get to see things you wouldn’t normally see – like little glimpses of churches and beautiful homes by the water’s edge, as well as seals, cormorants and the occasional Thames barge. You are truly in a different element when you’re out on the water.
When it came time for me to take the tiller and steer the boat, I was filled with both excitement and nerves. I’m not sure I did a very good job, but I had enormous fun.
Sailing down the River Orwell to where it meets the River Stour, we moored and had lunch in the cockpit, the September sun streaming down on us as the water lapped the sides of the boat. Then Roy took the tiller for the journey back, skillfully tacking upriver, passing Pin Mill and spotting Alma Cottage where the Walker children in Ransome’s book were staying before their big adventure out at sea.
As we arrived back at Wolverstone Marina where Nancy is moored, I couldn’t help thinking of the line from We Didn’t Mean to go to Sea: ‘Grab a chance and you won’t be sorry for a might-have-been.’ Yes, we certainly managed to do that, I think!