As you might have expected, a week long trip which included Mr HH and the Munchkin could mean only one thing for me...
On Bank Holiday Monday, off we set for the East Somerset Railway, the Munchkin and I had not been here before and Mr HH had only been donkey's years ago (it would be rude to say how many). Sadly, it was not a great day weatherwise and the closer we got to Cranmore, the worse it became! This was sad as it was also the day of the village fete.
Once there, I amused myself by admiring the bunting and the enamel signs...
The Munchy one couldn't wait to get on the engine!
Mr HH seemed to need to make a 'phone call...
(Is that a Cath K mini brolley I see in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?)
On Tuesday, it was time to do our little local jobs. Now let's get our priorities right, that meant the first stop had to be the charity shop! Well, you read about my finds there yesterday. I also had some cheques to pay into the bank. Isn't this just the cutest little bank branch?
Then it was off for essential hydration supplies at the errm, cider farm. V important to support local farmers you know. (Yes we do buy other things too!) Looks to be a bumper crop of apples this year.
All this arduous trekking needed the support of a good breakfast each morning. One of the good things about the time we spend at the cottage is that we get a chance to sit all together and linger awhile over breakfast. Much eating of preserves takes place which is tremendously popular with that sugar fiend otherwise known as the Munchkin!
Also rather popular with Mademoiselle Fifi from next door! Looks like she prefers cereal though.
Actually, quite a bit of cooking was done by yours truly. I selflessly made this trifle..
(Is it normal to take photos of trifle? Is it me or is it a rude-looking trifle?)
More importantly of course, was the issue of the annual village gardening show. I don't do anything for the show on the actual gardening side because we're not at the cottage enough to enable us to grow veggies or cosset any pretty flowers (the roses have all succumbed to the rain in any case, and the dahlias to the slimy slugs and snails). What I can do however, is churn out preserves, something I do quite gladly. I'd already made the lemon curd before we went away, you might remember. When I make jam throughout the Summer, I usually make a few with "old fashioned" lids purely for the show. However, although my cupboards were well stocked with jam, I had failed to use the waxed discs and cellophane to seal them (as the show rules require) because quite honestly, screw top jars are so much easier and I just forgot. So there I was, late on Tuesday afternoon, with my enamel casserole pot (my preserving pan languishing back in London with the screw top jars), cobbling together some currants and berries, scrounging jars from the neighbours and buying waxed discs and cellophane from the village shop. Last year I won second prize. Got to try to do better this year?
So, on Saturday morning, off I trundled to the village hall to lay out my preserves along with all the others. (More entries came along later but there was shopping to be done in Bridport, you understand, so I was there early!) Which ones do you think were mine? Not the ones with the faffy fabric lids surely?!
So, off to my beloved Bridport for a little mooch. I was stopped in my tracks by some stunning dahlias...
And of course, I could not bypass Girls' Own Store. Inside were some new goodies, lovely jugs and bowls, little handled tins and teatowels by Greengate in what appears to be a rather scrumptious new paisley design. If you look closely, you might just spot them in the window. I came out without china but clutching a rather gorgeous book. No no, we're going to look at that another day; patience is a virtue and all that.
Fast forward, sadly, to our last day, Sunday. Off we set with Molly dog (borrowed from next door) for a little ramble through the fields which border the village. Oh my, look at that view...
And what have we here? Some marauding gypsies maybe?
I have to confess that would be Mr HH with my mum and dad partaking of what we shall politely call "foraging" amongst the hedgerows. The Munchkin was not up for foraging (funnily enough, he might just be up for the resulting blackberry and apple crumble?) He and Molly dog were off in the fields, picking buttercups, climbing stiles and generally having a whale of a time. Not bad for a city boy!
It was a productive day...
And the village show? The jam?
Pleased as punch!
(Nothing for the lemon curd. Drat!)