As Simon says, seeing beautiful Compton Verney is a bit like the moment when Lizzie Bennett sees Pemberley. Very apt, because Colin Firth was there this summer making a film and visited the Stanley Spencer exhibition twice. (Too late, it's now closed.) He wasn't there, alas, on the day when I went.
But it was gorgeous yesterday which was one of those perfect, crisp autumn days. I even managed to pick a bag of their windfall apples (well, there were hundreds lying neglected under the tree) for a Sunday apple pie. They were so scented and warm from the sun that at first I thought they were quinces. (I know, I know, I wouldn't win any prizes for botany.)
I strolled around the lake picking up fir cones. Just as well I had all those carrier bags stuffed into my handbag from my fruitless sloe-foraging weekend in Devon a couple of weeks ago.
And as the current exhibition at Compton Verney is all about fireworks, even the names - Crimson Cascade, Mine of Serpents, Chrysanthemum Fountains - took me to back to the autumns of my childhood. Now if only they'd been selling treacle toffee and parkin in the café ...
On a noticeboard they asked people for their Bonfire Night memories. I can still remember the glowing feeling of pride that I was the only five-year-old at the bonfire whose grand-dad had sparklers in his ears and stuck up his nose.
10 comments:
Up his nose?????? Wow, that's a grand grandad indeed!
And survived to be nearly 90, Rachel. A true story, as I was there - although doubts have been raised about his tale about paddling with crocodiles. Even though I completely believed it until I was well over 40!
Goodness, what a super Granddad to have!
Oh, it is so beautiful and what a treat to be able to get some lovely apples for your pie. The only thing better would have been if Colin Firth was on a ladder picking the apples for you!
Or running up the ladder to escape, Anbolyn? I hear he's less smitten than I am!
And do you remember how cold it was? Bitterly cold on Guy Fawkes Night was a given. And the Catherine Wheel used to whizz backwards and then fall off its post.
The Catherine wheel always fell off the gate, Lucille! And I always got chased by a rip-rap. I hated rip-raps and bangers.
You don't know how glad I was that my last sip of tea came BEFORE reading that last sentence!
Your day out sounds wonderful and I can almost smell that apple pie.
Still haven't got round to making it, Darlene. Maybe a crumble, I hate rolling pastry.
Apples were 67 cents a pound at the grocery store today so I'm making a crumble as well!
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