Childhood

This is one of my blog posts to be filed under 'other places'.
I think the place where you spend your first ten years is more firmly etched in your mind than anywhere you may subsequently live. This is certainly true in my case.

I had the good fortune to grow up in a particularly magical place  - Thorndon Park in Essex in England - where we lived in what had once been a gamekeeper's cottage on a grand estate. Our garden opened directly on the huge acreage that had been the deer park and grounds laid out by Capability Brown for Lord Petre in the 18th century.  Back in the 1950's we children were allowed to wander in the woods in search of adventure.

Deep in the woods was the neglected little Roman Catholic chapel where the Lords Petre and their servants were buried. I only ever went inside once with my mother. A woman was scrubbing the black and white flagstone floor and multicolored lights from the stained glass windows speckled her back. An image that has remained with me for ever. I only discovered recently that the Chantry Chapel was designed by a friend of Pugin's (Pugin designed the Houses of Parliament!) 

Anyway, these woods and Thorndon Hall

are the setting for Jane in Winter a children's book I wrote some years ago. Though aimed at readers between the ages of about eight and twelve it's also a memoir of childhood.

For the fantastical parts of the story - the domain of the evil Queen Ida deep under the lake - I used my memories of the splendid Palais Gharnata in  Marrakesh, Morocco -

a most amazingly decorated place.

Jane in Winter is about autumn in England in the 1950's - and family and food and the days leading up to Christmas. I've recently re-edited it to remove errors. It's available both for Kindle (only $2.99) and as a paperback. I think you'll enjoy it!

A view of Thornton Hall - Myrtle Hall in the book - from the Brentwood side.

So if you need a little light nostalgic reading or a present for a young reader...

For my other books go here.

Happy reading!

A Visit to Essex

Liverpool Street Station is much altered from when I was a child. (What isn't.....?)
I looked for echoes of childhood memories and discovered them in all the lanky buddleia bushes growing out of walls once one left the station.
The once black station is now very clean and moderne.
A thought: 30p/55cents is too much to charge for the ladies' room. Hm.......



The actual trains had pink inside. The first time I've seen pink used that way.
Susanna's winged messenger enjoyed the ride.



I was met by a most hospitable fellow-bogger Barbara and her husband Alan. I often go to Barbara's blog when I'm in America because it's quintessentially English.
We had a delicious lunch of homemade soup and bread, and later scones and toffee shortbread. YUM.
I had not realised before that Barbara is an accomplished watercolorist and calligrapher. (You can just see two of her paintings of the Cotswolds behind her.)



Anyway, we chatted and chatted non-stop and the afternoon flew by.
The weather was typically English - rain followed by a general sort of damp - but I was able to enjoy the garden I recognized well from her blog.



The goldfish swam merrily in the pool and the whole excursion was a delight.

Essex

In England, a sentimental journey to the village where I grew up in Essex. Sadly, Essex has a reputation a bit like New Jersey in the US, when in fact it is rather wonderful.
We lived in a gamekeeper's cottage on a huge estate and used to play in the woods constantly.
This park is the setting for a children's story, Jane in Winter, that I've just finished.
This is a scary blasted oak........



......and a magical tree stump.



When I was a child, Thorndon Hall was derelict and the fountain did not play. Once the center part of the hall went up in flames at night. Very dramatic.



Flowers in St.Nicholas Churchyard in Ingrave............



.........and more of the churchyard where I spent many happy hours reading the gravestones.......



The pond in Herongate where we used to feed the ducks. The Friary in the background.



And Mrs.Dickerson's cottage next to the Boar's Head. We used to call Mrs. Dickerson "The Old Lady with no stockings" - but, obviously, never to her face. It used to be rather organic looking . Now it has been 'improved'.



The requisite number of ducks which now seem to have a diet of potato crisps - and continue to thrive.



In the distance, across the flat Essex countryside, Heron Hall, built long ago by the Tyrell family, where my friend Caroline lived.
The house is partially surrounded by a moat where who knows what lurked......