Kettles Yard

"I'm in the midst of a quixotic scheme which, if I can get it into action, would interest you. It has struck me....it would be interesting to be lent a great house on the verge of a city - or a place of great beauty in a town (Cambridge I have in mind) and make it all that I could of lived in beauty, each room am atmosphere of quiet and simple charm and open to the public (in Cambridge to students especially) And for such a living creation I would give all that I have in pictures and lovely objects, would bear the initial cost of making the house suitable, give my services for the next 10 years (if I live that long) as organiser and guardian - and if it worked when I die endow it with what I can. It just happens to be something I believe I could do with usefulness, Helen and I would live in a bit of it - the rest would look lived in - its special feature would I think be one of simplicity and loved qualities. There could be a library there (art perhaps) and there could be evenings of chamber music - and your pictures - and Ben's and Kit's - and Brancusi and so on - would be part of its life and beauty"

Jim Ede wrote this to his friend the poet David Jones, in the end he joined four tumble down cottages into the most amazing space, beautifully lit by swathes of natural light, the space is alive with art, creativity oozes out of every pore. You approach a small door and pull a cord. Inside a bell rings and a small old lady opens the door and lets you in. You may sit on any of the seats and read any of the books. You ache to live there and it always pains me to leave. It is the house of my dreams.

Two wonderful books

A Room To Live In

A Kettles Yard Anthology

&

Light Spells

Graham Murrell, Katheryn Faulkner and Ian Jeffery

The Photograph Not Taken

A brilliant site The Photograph Not Taken really resonates with me. Most recently whilst we were at mothers, Kitty and Leyla had decided to celebrate Halloween, (primarily since Emin bans any celebratory event) Lelya even took an outfit. We bought pumpkins which the girls helped carve and Leyla got dressed up, including a lovely witches hat she has. When I looked up a little later I saw her in profile engrossed in watching the television, her hat was perched on her head and her legs were slung were over mum's best chair, best of all she was sucking her thumb. I was so tickled by the sight of a thumb sucking witch that I reached for my camera. However seconds later and she was up, and I had missed my perfect shot.
It maybe a photograph not taken but It will forever remain in my mind.

Postcards from Cambridge

Lady luck was shining on me last week because Emin decided he needed to go and do some work on his house in Cyprus, so not only do I have peace and quiet at home, I also got to spend the afternoon in Cambridge. I dropped him off at Stanstead airport and it was only 20 more miles to get there. The only small draw back was the lovely Leyla! but hey the sun was beginning to shine.

Cambridge is the town where I was born. It is where my parents met, my mother worked at the Sedgwick Museum and my father was studying his PhD at Sydney Sussex so he spent many hours completing his research in the Sedgwick.

My mothers family lived a few miles north of Cambridge and have done so since Elizabethan times, I think it is why I am drawn to flat wide open spaces with water. The Fens to many, are a desolate place, but I love the wide open beauty of It all.

Cambridge is my most favourite town in all of England, some run it a close second, places like Bath and York, but Cambridge is more egalitarian unlike the other Varsity town, Oxford, there is not such a pronounced 'town & gown' feeling. The shops are a million times better too my first experience of Biba was in Cambridge, and Heffers (sadly now swallowed up by Blackwells) was always the most wonderful book shop. Market square is always bustling and the river Cam is a haven of peace and tranquility. The colleges are amazing, not just their age but the way they so effortlessly interlock and unite the town.

Cambridge is also home to some wonderful museums including the Fitzwilliam and best of all Kettles Yard.

Riyaz Designs

From Riyaz Designs

I love Indian minatures and these are especially whimsical.

I did not forget Diwali I just forgot to post this on the right day.

So a belated Happy Diwali everyone.

28th October 2008

The view from last week

I decided to go to my mothers on Monday with both Leyla and Kitty in tow, this was the lesser of two evils, the other would be to stay at home with Emin, with the prospect of no heating. Whereas at mothers she has both heating and a real log fire, oh, and real home cooking, a no brainer really.

Daisy had filled the week with a range of activities, non of which involved me or school work.

We breezed into Oxford on the bus and sat down to chicken pie. On Tuesday Kitty wanted to go to Primark, over an hour later we were exhausted and poor mother needed a coffee, she insisted we go to Thornton's rather than Pret a Manger which is my own personal comfort zone. The Oxford branch of Pret now inhabits one of the most beautiful medieval buildings in Oxford, I would far rather drink a mediocre coffee in a lovely building than a good coffee in a horrible, cramped, nasty, Formica ridden chocolate shop which is Thornton's. Mother INSISTED we would go to Thornton's and boy did she live to regret that decision.

Kitty being the OCD angel that she is has a bit of a 'thing' about how she likes her hot chocolate. She only likes it made with powder, she hates it made with syrup. Trust me you can not fool her she knows!

In the shop it is packed, with bundled up OAP's, children and lots of shopping bags, I am ordered to grab the only free table which is at best cramped. Kitty stomps over to me...

Kitty "she won't tell me if it is made with liquid or powder"

Me "well ask the lady behind the counter"
Kitty disappears and then returns having obviously confused and irritated my mother.

Kitty "great, now she says I can't have one"

Leyla runs over to me sits down and starts crying, I hear mother clearly ordering the hot chocolate's so tell them both to be patient.

Kitty "you don't understand, every time I ask what the hot chocolate is made of they both say "chocolate" they will not tell me if it is powder or not"

My mother arrives with a tray, on it is a latte and a cappuccino plus two hot chocolates, one is small and unadorned one is huge with cream on top.

All hell breaks loose, it transpires that Kitty wanted a large one without cream and Leyla wanted a small one with cream plus marshmallows.

Kitty sits and glowers at her tiny drink whilst Leyla beams with delight clutching her victorious mug of excess.

Mother then proceeds to explain that since we are in a chocolate shop they make hot chocolate with real chocolate, it appears that the girl behind the counter had mixed up the order and of course Kitty drew the short straw and is now fuming.

Mother "Kitty go and ask for a large one"

Kitty "no, it doesn't matter"

Leyla asks some innocuous question

Kitty (with venom) "It says on the board or can't you read?"

Leyla (smelling victory) Yes, but can you spell Dyslexia"?

Kitty is now apoplectic with anger, so I try very hard to calm her down and have a little joke, she looks at me and smiles

Kitty "mum, you have frothy cream on your nose"

It is now I make a fatal error, I pretend to wipe my nose on Kitty's jacket, I said pretend.. In the very next moment Kitty swipes her arm and knocks over the untouched hot chocolate all over the teeny tiny table. Mother kops the lot, it goes over her new trousers and into her handbag. Kitty gets up

Kitty " I suppose you are angry with me now"?

I am busy wiping and mopping up, mother cleans herself up, the shop assistant helps and calmly remarks that they only painted the walls last week, at this moment we realise that the chocolate had stealthily been dripping down the back wall into Leyla's bag of new clothes, she sobs again. Mother apologises, I tell mother off for apologising and we go back home and clean up.

Oxford lakes

James Bond are you stalking me?

I woke up with crippling cramps and a fierce headache, Emin announced he had bought tickets  for the early showing of Quantum of Solace. Oh Joy, so I got up, threw up and took one Nurofen short of a suicide bid and I was good to go, well crawl.

All my life I have been stalked by Bond, as a child my father would like nothing more than to watch the old Bond films on Christmas Day. Not my cup of tea but a happy dad = a happy family so we would all crowd round the new tele for a couple of hours of misogynistic fun and frolics. In a house full of women revenge was sweet, all be it for a couple of hours.

Later at Art College I became an unlikely friend of a lovely calm elegant student. She lived in a house that was so big, when her parents sold it, they made it into a Hotel. A group of us would hang out there some evenings and, as you do we would trawl through the record collection looking for cool music. I found the soundtrack to Midnight Cowboy, which I love. Emma then told us that her uncle had written it! Her uncle was John Barry... She rarely saw him because of tax issues and maybe other issues, but what a fabulous uncle to have. 

Enough? nope. my husband was a complete Bond fanatic, obsessed, he collected Japanese pressings of the soundtracks, they were about the same thickness of a piece of two ply. He even managed to wangle his way into a press viewing of a new Bond film. We even had our first dance at the wedding to We Have All The Time in the World. Sadly as it turns out, we did not, and I moved on.

A few years later I got on very well with someone at work, it transpired his brother was (still is actually) one of the writers, so I was regaled with various stories about flights on Lear Jets and broken bones. He finally managed to blag a day on set with Halle Berry only to forget to put film in his camera. 

I moved schools and finally thought I had escaped, but then I saw Emin prefixes his email address with.. yep you guessed it 007.