#SimplyRed

Caught Red-Handed

Whenever Graham had work to do at the Kiboko research station we stayed at Hunter’s Lodge. It was just next door, and the hotel manager allowed Graham a key to the back garden gate so he could come and go on foot rather than driving the long way round. The Lodge had been built around the late 1950s for the big game hunter, John Hunter. It was sited near his favourite waterhole, beside the Nairobi – Mombasa highway, just north of Makindu, and this was the place he chose for his retirement after a long career as safari guide and game controller.

At some time in the sixties the site was expanded into a motel with a small block of architect designed guest rooms overlooking the pool. (In his day, Hunter had dammed the Kiboko River that fed the waterhole and so created a garden lake). For a time the place had a heyday, being the weekend spot for British expatriates, or the main overnight stopover for anyone driving to or from Mombasa. Then the highway was improved with a layer of tarmac, and the clientele drove on by.

When we stayed there in the ‘90s it was unusual to find any other guests. The Lodge staff anyway had their own regime that ticked over nicely irrespective of visitors. Now and then some Kenyan government agency might hold a seminar there or an overland truck might be allowed to park up and its occupants to camp on the lawn. Once I met an Israeli water engineer who was consulting on a nearby project. Otherwise, my main companions by day were Joyce the chambermaid and an astonishment of birdlife.

And vervet monkeys.

The vervets kept a keen eye on us. They soon learned we had supplies in our room – especially highly desirable bananas, and packs of raisins and nuts. We brought these to make up for the limited Lodge menu of cheese sandwiches, omelettes and steak and chips. But any unguarded moment and there would be a raid. I once came out of the bathroom to find three monkey faces peering up at me from under the bed.

The vervet in the header had clearly pounced while I was distracted with some bird watching out on the lawn (viz. empty binoculars case). And with over 200 local species, the distractions were many – from tiny malachite kingfishers to the giants whose diving technique seemed set to empty the pool. There were also pied and brown hooded kingfishers, ibis, storks, herons and weaver birds, and once, a lone pelican that dropped in from who knows where.

Days at Hunter’s Lodge were like a waking dream, soundtrack the high-tension whine of insects, muffled rumble of trucks along the highway, clatter of stork bills up in the fever trees and sometimes the chime of a bell calling the gardeners and chamber-maids to their tea breaks.

#SimplyRed Day 13

Red Earth, Red Roofs…

In my last post I mentioned my sense of shrinking horizons now we no longer live in far-flung places. Those who come here often were quick to see I didn’t mean this in a negative sense. It’s more about feeling satisfied in the place and space we occupy. I don’t need to go anywhere else – though that said, a little trip to the nearest seaside before summer ends might be welcome. But paddling prospects aside, these days I am happy to look out on the hills and farmland around the town, and inwardly at the motley fabric of this ancient border settlement, a place which locals call the Castle.

But then on these warm July days, I can’t help slipping back to Kenya, to Hunter’s Lodge, an oasis of a place that was pretty much ‘home’ in our first nomadic days in Africa. The research station where Graham was carrying out experiments on an imported crop pest, larger grain borer, was up a track behind the lodge garden. While he toiled, I sat under a thorn tree and dreamed. Did I really see Maasai women in their full red regalia delivering the hotel milk from gourds slung on a donkey…or a kingfisher the size of a crow strike the pool like some avian pile-driver…

More of this story in several places including: No way back from Africa – the road to Hunter’s Lodge

Also Once in Africa, Kenya Diary Continued and In an equatorial light

#SimplyRed Day 11

It Seemed Like A Big Day Out

We’ve not been gadding for ages. He who builds sheds has been much occupied during our rainless days, taking the internal house doors off their hinges and, one by one, stripping them down and repainting them. As may be imagined with a hundred year old house, there are many layers to remove. He’s working outside with wallpaper stripping gun which peels off ancient gloss and varnish like a dream.

It was during one such operation on the cloakroom door that we decided opaque glass panels in the upper door half would make for more light in the neighbouring gloomy utility room. Glass panels were duly ordered and on Friday we set off (from the somewhat isolated fastness of Bishop’s Castle) to collect them.

This involved a twenty mile drive to our county town of Shrewsbury. We’d not been there for over two years, not since our house selling days and foiled attempts to find a rental property there. In some ways the prospect of this outing made me realize how our horizons have shrunk, though not in a bad way. But once our life was repeated long haul flights between UK and Africa. Now, I feel I’ve been on a journey if we go to next door Clun, eight miles away or to Montgomery, just over the Welsh border. But then both those places are so lovely, each in their own particular ways, what else could one want?

One of the reasons the Shrewsbury trip turned into a haul was because the main route out of Bishop’s Castle was closed and we were sent on a diversion, wending back and forth between Wales and Shropshire. But it was a sunny day and the countryside, with its undulating hillscapes, glorious, so why should we complain. We even had a red leg partridge step into the lane in front of us. (It withrew unscathed). And there were buzzards and red kites high in the blue, wafting over newly mown hayfields, the roadside hedgerows full of wildflowers – honeysuckle, willow herb.

After such bucolic byways, Shrewsbury with its multiple bypasses (internal and external), huge traffic islands, and peripheral industrial estates and retail zones is something of a culture shock. But the old town itself, on a hill and cupped in a loop of the River Severn, has been going since at least Saxon times, and so has many ancient and scenic parts. These days, too, it is cafe culture central. Just look at this LINK.

And one of the best locations for eating out is Shrewsbury Market. Which is where we headed (after negotiating the ring roads and industrial quarters) for a spot of lunch at the Moli Tea House. To say their exquisitely served Asian offerings are delicious is an understatement – tiny Chinese dumplings with dipping sauce, delicate meat balls served in a crisp lettuce leaf wrap. Heavenly.

Later, we wandered around the stalls of artisan bread, fresh vegetables, farm eggs and meat, looked at what people were enjoying in the other eateries, bought some fresh fish. Then headed back to our border refuge, to the Castle that has no castle, this time on the truck-roaring A49, the main highway south, which is quicker if further. We were anyway glad to leave it behind, back to the quietness of our home terrain and a restful cup of tea.

#SimplyRed Day 9

Red Brick

It’s very nearly two years since we moved into The Gables, a modest little house, built in the early 1920s by a local builder. It stands on ground that once belonged to the smithy and The Hit Or Miss pub further up the street. (Both now family homes).

The move from Much Wenlock had been protracted: selling our cottage had taken time. Then there was six months in a rented house while we found somewhere to buy. It gave us chance to do some serious de-cluttering, but all the same we knew we would not fit comfortably into our new house without building a new kitchen. And so we bought it with that notion in mind.

We began, then, with something of the gamble. The Gables is in the Bishop’s Castle conservation area. Planning approval would be required, and our encounters with planning authorities in the past had not always gone well. We engaged local architectural designer, Henry Beddoes, to take care of the plans and the application. After all, it was scarcely an ambitious project replacing an old heat-leaking, plastic conservatory with a properly insulated room.

Even so, waiting for approval was still nerve-wracking. It took several months.

When it came to the actual plans, the site itself was anyway problematical. The south end of the conservatory was right on the boundary with a roadside verge, and most of the rest was nestled into the overgrown bank and hedge. There was not much room to manoeuvre, either outwards or upwards.

Flat roofs are never ideal, but a sloping roof that did not obscure the upstairs windows and had a good enough incline would have markedly reduced the height of the living space. (See previous post for internal restructuring.) And so instead we have a lantern skylight and some leaded nifty brickwork round the parapet. It seemed to us a reasonable compromise, not overburdening the existing house either in scale or fanciness. Builder Alan also cleaned and re-used all the conservatory bricks, and took pains to source new ones that were as near as possible to the 1920s fabric.

And so there you have it: the Farrell domain…plain and unassuming, but ever so well built and insulated.

#SimplyRed Day 8

Home Deliveries

This time last year we were still up to our ears in building work. We were opening up the back of the house – replacing an old conservatory with a new kitchen-dining room. This project involved somewhat hair-raising deliveries of construction materials into our front garden. As you can see, access on our street is challenging for large trucks, and it gets worse beyond our house. The only way out is backwards.

Also during such operations, the entire carriageway was blocked. So I was mightily impressed by the high-techery involved in this particular delivery – all executed ‘remotely’ by the driver with a natty little gizmo hung round his neck. Watching him was anyway a welcome distraction from watching what was happening at the back of the house.

It was July when we turned the existing sitting-room cum galley kitchen…

…into this:

The big ‘knocking through’ event. The dust cloud was horrendous. And the steel beam insertion somewhat mind boggling.

At this stage, the structural work on the new kitchen beyond the opening was nearing completion, and the old galley kitchen was about to be re-worked and closed off to make a utility room with cloakroom.

Super builder Alan eased the transition by setting up a make-do sink plus the cooker in the new kitchen where we planned to camp out until the arrival of the kitchen units in mid-August. Meanwhile, all the new kitchen window and door spaces were encased in black plastic, while we also waited for the actual windows and double doors. It was all strangely cavernous. It was also raining a lot, and there were concerns over leakage.

Then came the lantern roof-light, doors and windows (the kitchen’s footprint was dictated by the space occupied by the erstwhile old conservatory – not ideal but do-able and the plans drawn up by Bishop’s Castle architectural designer Henry Beddoes):

And there was light:

And then came the solid wood kitchen drawers and cupboards made by local cabinet makers Shepherd Hills:

And yes, I know – it’s all very quirky, mostly evolved as we went along.

And after the kitchen, there was/is still more to do, especially the small terrace area at the back door. Outside views to follow.

#SimplyRed Day 7 Becky concludes the first week of SQUARES in fine style on the high seas. Three weeks left to post red themed photos; the header must be SQUARE.

#Squares

Enter The Dragons

Yesterday I posted scenes ‘live’ from the Bishop’s Castle carnival, today we have photos from another of the town’s annual parties, last year’s Michaelmas Fair. It begins with a parade in which Chinese dragons and drummers steal the show. (Sadly no competing Welsh dragons in spite of the town’s closeness to Wales, but then you never know what might turn up this year).

As happened yesterday, the weather was cool and gloomy, but there was no dampening of the spirits; not once the Rajasthan Brass Band took to the streets…

…and the town’s own Shropshire Bedlams Morris men stepped out, all jingling bells and vigorous stick clashing…(More about local Morris heritage here)

The Michaelmas Fair takes place all over the town, in the pubs and park and church halls. A stage below the Town Hall hosts live bands all day. There are street stalls and street food, bubble blowing, fire eating, an afternoon parade of steam engines, tractors and classic vehicles, headed by Clive the elephant, another star attraction. (The town’s elephant connection is explained in a previous squares challenge post here.) And the whole is rounded off with an evening lantern procession through the town, all lanterns made by Castle folk.

I didn’t catch Clive the elephant last year, but here’s a photo of him from a sunnier fair:

This year’s fair is on the 20th September. More details HERE. But before that there’s another big fun event: the Party in the Park on the 19th July. A day of non stop live bands, workshops, and family activities from noon to 10.30 pm. Sometimes life in this small country town can sound a tad exhausting.

And on that note, back to dragons, this one from the 2023 lantern parade:

#SimplyRed Day 6

Today’s The Day ~ Bishop’s Castle Carnival

There are times when Bishop’s Castle might strike one as a sleepy place, but looks can deceive. This is a town that knows how to party, and there are several festivals through the year. Today is carnival day. The parade kicked off at 1.pm. headed by the town crier caught here on his cell phone – a pleasing conjunction of time past and present on the communications front.

Fat Cat Brass followed on his heels, setting the tone – full-on jollification despite the cool and gloomy day.

And then came the floats, with much emphasis on growing and farming and country living: lots of vintage tractors, classic vehicles, steam engines and the timber merchants’ smart fleet of trucks hauling the big floats.

After wending around the town and down our street, the parade headed for the park for an afternoon and evening of fun and games: bouncy castle, live music, falconry demo, sheep show and mini digger competition not the least of it.

And now in late afternoon, the sun has come out. A grand day out all round then.

#SimplyRed Day 5

Six-Word Saturday

Blown Away

The first opium poppies have bloomed their best, the bees done their work. Seed capsules are primed, the fancy skirts discarded, blown off on the breeze.

If I leave them, the pods will ripen until crisp and brown as walnut shells. The merest tap will have them shedding seed like shaking a salt cellar. And come next summer, they’ll be back again. Or maybe not. Poppies, I find, are a capricious lot. Love me while you can, they say.

#SimplyRed Day 4

Ladybirds ~ The Gardener’s Pest Controllers

Much like poppies, ladybirds come with instant eye-appeal. Who knows why: the shiny red wing cases that look like polished enamel; those striking black dots. From infancy I was anyway brought up with the notion of them: those lovely Ladybird children’s books so exciting to receive; cosy Ladybird cotton jumpers (items now known as sweatshirts) in bright primary colours. I had a red one, the colour of the ladybird. And a yellow one, the colour of this Golden Marguerite (Anthemis tinctora).

These days, as a more than grown up gardener, I mostly appreciate their appetite for aphids. They are at their most voracious during the larval stage, when they are distinctly creepy beasties: the minute Darth Vaders of insectdom:

https://www.field-studies-council.org/shop/publications/ladybird-larvae-guide/

So do not squash!

Some of their kind also eat scale insects and feed on mildew, a fact I’ve only just discovered as I’m writing this.

And another surprising find (to me anyway) that according to the Woodland Trust site there are 26 kinds of ladybird in the British Isles, with our gardens likely to be host to several species at any one time. I’ve only ever registered the existence of three or four types, including the Seven-Spot in the header photo. One of the commonest is an incomer from Asia – the Harlequin, which may be black with red spots or vice versa. It also eats aphids, but may at times predate on native ladybirds. Advice seems to be to let it alone. Trying to eradicate it might involve too much mis-identification of native species which have similar livery.

Looking now through my allotment photo archive, I’ve found I’ve snapped a Twenty-Two Spot ladybird. At least I think that’s what it is. It’s on a dahlia leaf and is one of the mildew eating varieties.

Seven-Spotters in action on an aphid colony

#SimplyRed Day 3 Becky has us all in clover today.

My Garden Supervisor: Robin Not So Red

Perhaps it’s the time of year, the courtship fine feathers and family raising done, but this robin’s breast looks to me more orange than red. I think it may be moulting time too. Some days when it pops into the garden, it looks as if it’s got out of its nest on the wrong side – feathers every which way. But then sloppy personal grooming doesn’t stop it from giving me hard looks, scrutinizing every gardening move in case worms and grubs are in the offing.

These days it is not so insistent and no longer perches on the nearest pot and cheeps until I make some attempt to provide. Not so many mouths to feed. So now, when it sees I’m only dead-heading or watering, it soon vanishes. Clearly it has other calls to make about the town.

#SimplyRed Day 2 Today on July Squares, Becky pays tribute to Cee whose inspiring photo challenges brought so many of us together. She is very much missed.

Tish Farrell

Writer on the Edge