GAUGUIN AND SUNFLOWER SEEDS AT THE TATE

AC and I had our first day 'together' in London today and chose to spend it on a trip down Father Thames to Tate Modern to see the Gauguin exhibition, and something that moved me far more, the Sunflower Seeds.

Here are some photographs just to jog our memories in years to come.

I am going to use my blog more as a diary for Little Jude than saying anything of earth-shattering importance!

Tate Modern is such a stark and imposing building that one is immediately put in the mind-set to enjoy whatever they throw at you.

Well, not Gauguin for me. We both took one of those audio machines for explanation but I had to agree with a lady who was leaving the final room who said that if she hadn't had to fight to understand where she was and what the machine was telling her then she might have enjoyed the pictures more.

I did have a fight with the machine but more of a disagreement with Gaughin. I just think he was mad and that Van Gogh and he should have cut each others' ears off, smacked each other over the head with their respective chairs, caught syphillus and died much sooner than they did.

Dreary, dark, brooding, badly painted pictures of dark ladies and even worse pictures of horses carrying him off across the river to oblivion.

Loved his ceramics! Has anyone ever heard of Gauguin's ceramics? They are mad but brilliant.

Bit like the Sunflower Seeds.

Mr. Wei Wei Whatever, made twenty thousand million single ceramic sunflower seeds, employed a whole town of thousands to work on this one work of art, shipped them to London to be laid as a carpet for people to walk on and make patterns, pick them up in handfuls, suck them, put them in their pockets as a lasting memory of his art-piece, and guess what?

Health and Safety has forbidden anyone to go near them because of the danger of dust!!!!!!!!

Poor Mr. Wei Wei. Buggered by beurocracy! Still a strangely moving mountain of Chinese porcelaine.

THE WONKY BRIDGE WITH ST. PAUL'S IN THE BACKGROUND SEEN FROM THE TOP FLOOR RESTAURANT AT TATE MODERN

PAT WILL BE MISSED

PAT WITH THREE FRIENDS IN TUSCANY

A sad visit to London to attend our friend Pat Amy Tudor's Memorial service at Chelsea Old Church. 17th March 1942 - 10th July 2010. Wednesday, 10th November, 2010.

After days of rain the sun came out and we were treated to the most beautiful weather for Pat's farewell. Lunched with Gina and Tommy Sopwith at Frantoio and then sobbed throughout a beautiful service.

I think singing All Things Bright and Beautiful and looking at photographs in the service sheet of Pat suddenly brought home how close we all are to death. Tears welled and after running down my cheeks, dripped off my chin. I had to summon every fibre of my body not to climb over the back of my pew and escape such emotion.

An old friend of Pats' and pianist John Lill played Chopin's Nocturne in C Minor, Op 48/1 and Alexander Scriabin's Study in D Sharp Minor Op 8/12 and a wonderful young man Roberto Abate, sang Franz Schubert's Ave Maria which brought the house down!

Met up with a lot of our old, (and I mean old!), friends at the reception following the service and caught up with Pat's sister Barbara and brother in law, Jim Higgins. They had both spoken tributes during the ceremony in memory of Pat and although full of grief, somehow held on to their dignity and Jim even spoke for ten minutes without a note in his hand!

I still think that William Blake's, "Jerusalem", is one of the best hymns ever written and one of the most moving.

We walked home down the King's Road and the rain started. It hasn't stopped for three days now! Even the heaven's are sad at the loss of such a dear friend.

Yesterday AC took me to an exhibition at The Barbican. Thirty years of Japanese Fashion.

A beautifully executed history of designs by Issey Miyake, Rei Kawakubo and Yohji Yamamoto.

On our way home we walked down Conduit Street and dropped into Issey Miyake's beautiful shop. His designs are still ground-breaking and I long to own one of his overcoats.

Lunch at a fabulous Italian (!!!!!) restaurant in Soho, Boca de Lupo. Why on earth can't all Italian restaurants provide such a menu? Unusual recipes and hardly any of the rubbish that our local restaurants in Tuscany serve for the tourists. Must learn how to make Espresso Zabaglione!!! Bang went the diet but we did walk home in the rain!!!!

Today I have my Little Boy for the day. James and Lisa are dropping Jude off to his Nona and Babu for a little hard earned R and R. I expect they will just go home and sleep as they both sound totally worn out.

Tomorrow lunch for the family and for AC's parents. Better go have my bath and then to Waitrose! How life goes on.

SLEEP WELL DEAR GIRL

ARAMIS - RIP

Today I died in a ditch with a six foot tall dark stranger.

He had wandered down from the olive terraces after weeks of suffering from a large tumor on his face.

His owner had not been able to face the prospect of putting him down when the original prognosis had been made so put him out to grass in our olive trees.

He was together with three other of his elderly friends and before the weather had changed from freezing cold to warm and now blasted hot, he was happy wandering the olive groves and grazing on the wild grasses and herbs.

Aramis and his friends had a stream running through their grazing and if I could wish any horse a happier last few weeks, months, years, I can think of no better place to rest out their last.

Aramis arrived at my door this morning, all six feet of beautiful bay coat stretched over arched bones, frothing from the mouth, gasping for breath, covered in flies, and swaying on tall and elegant legs. He was a beautiful beast with a tumor measuring two feet in either direction from his lower nostril up to his eyes. He could hardly breathe and was unable to drink.

Why would nature kill such a fantastic animal so slowly?

He had come down to find someone to die with.

I left him to call his owners and when I returned I found him collapsed in the small stream bed below the house. After several attempts to right himself he collapsed under the shade of a quince tree which is where I joined him with a cold, wet bath towel.

I covered his head and asked my gardener to bring a hose to cool him down and to rid him of the ever present stinging flies we have in Tuscany.

Once his head was covered and he was cool and the flies had stopped biting, he lay for half an hour just relaxing.

The vet had been called, his owners were on their way but after three really heavy sighs and lots of tears, he died and went somewhere where horses are not bitten or kicked but appreciated for their diligence and subservience and unquestioning love.

He has taught me a lesson never to be forgotten.

ANNUS HORRIBILIS!!!

Queen Elizabethand I have both suffered from bad years. This last year beats all for me but luckily I have tucked myself away in the depths of Tuscany to lick my wounds and so not many have noticed.

I really cannot remember how the year 2009 began but I do know that I was enjoying my vegetable garden and my greenhouse in the early months. Planting early veg and flower seeds and then in April taking my usual ride at Paolo's stables on my wonderful Salty, then suddenly one day I lay in the open riding school eating gravel on the floor with Lamu curled beside me licking my face but otherwise unable to get help.


This must have been the first time I paid attention to detail in my life!! I think I have always thought every day was a rehearsal for what I would do when I grew up!! That day was the first day I felt I was facing my own mortality.

I have never felt the necessity to read any instruction manual for a new piece of electronic equipment or something necessitating construction, I always knew how to work it out for myself. I suppose this is how I have also viewed life, I could always work it out for myself.

That day, I have no recollection of how I landed up on the floor eating dirt, or why my dog was whimpering by my side, or why Salty was looking down on me, reins dangling, I just knew I hurt and life had opened the door marked "Looser" which had for 66 years read "Survivor".

Childhood problems I had none but from the age of 21 when I married a highly intelligent, successful actor, my life took on a drama that would be worthy of any stage in the land.

I intend to write this when I can no longer race cars, (early), throw myself off horses (recent) or garden.

AND SO TO BED!

I knew life was too perfect.

The winter was nearly over. Spring flowers were bursting into bloom and the weather was just perfect for a good dose of gardening!



The spring cattle show in Camucia had been and gone! So had the poor gentle cows!



The local Co-op seem to have bought most of the poor things. It's enough to make me a vegetarian.




Strawberries were appearing in the shops.

The chickens were sitting on their eggs, watched by Lamu!!! Who, by the way found one nest in the bushes and ate all 14 eggs at one sitting. She did look a bit yellow for a while.






Salty's friends had come up to the olive groves for some spring grass.




The ducks joined them!




AND THEN DISASTER STRUCK AND THE AMBULANCE WAS CALLED.

Dear Salty had been in the stable for five days after a muscle strain and our vet had asked me not to lunge him before riding because of the chance of him going mad and pulling the bad muscle again!!!!



Instead, I mounted a strung up, ball of muscle and rode him directly up to the outside school.

I don't remember much after that except being covered with sand and in agony lying on the ground. I could feel my feet and my hands moved which was a relief but I could not be seen from the stables.

Lamu was no help and lay as close as possible, whimpering. The horse came and stood over me clearly upset with himself and that left me looking for my mobile which was in my jacket in the Range Rover!!!

Luckily a young family were riding their ponies around the yard and one of them heard my cries.

Ambulance, bumps, hospital, X-rays, jabs, documents to release myself, promises to stay in bed for two weeks, more bumps, bed!!!

That was three weeks ago and I still feel rotten and the pain is only mildly better. I am bad tempered, depressed and getting fatter on a diet of bread, eggs, pasta, wine and no exercise.

My wonderful sister-in-law Diana, flew all the way from Canada to look after me and I can't thank her enough.

More moaning later.....

THIS IS HOW OLD I FEEL!!!!

WINTER IN LONDON-SPRING ON THE FARM-2009

We spent three weeks in London over Xmas, 2008 and did all the usual THINGS. The Fair in Hyde Park is always fun but I don't understand why a German company has to ship so much equipment so far to amuse Londoners when we surely could provide our own entertainment!

So many people falling and ruining their Christmas's!! I saw two bad accidents in ten minutes and most people just hung on to the walls, scared to leave their safety zone.

Have you noticed how all of these 'amusements' are guaranteed to frighten!?

My feet stayed on terra firma!!

Aziz and I went to Cornwall to see how "Aunty Freda's Cottage", had survived the last five years of weekly lettings.

It looked just the same. A bit tired with a drain-pipe hanging off and a few window frames in need of a bit of paint but otherwise much loved and lived in!!

The garden was a mangle of rhodedendruns and weeds that only Cornwall and its rainfall can boast, but nothing too drastic.


We stayed at The Green Bank Hotel, in Falmouth looking over to the little village of Flushing. It brought back so many happy memories of sailing, riding and just growing up. The weather lived up to its name though and everything looked grey and windblown as it should mid-winter.


Back to Tuscany and the animals. Lamu was well and happy.



The cats fat and happy.



Salteno, now housed down the road at our local stables with Paulo and Hatti had returned home.











But my garden looked glum.



Just a few overwintering chard plants and a lot of weeds!

The snow soon came along to kill these off as well.




The ducks who when I left for London were little balls of yellow fluff had become fully grown, Hissing Sid and his four wives. They all nearly died of duck flu but luckily are still around and one is now sitting on fourteen eggs!! I wish someone had taken them away from her. Now I don't want to disappoint her.

Mimosa is always the first to brighten our dull pre spring days and this year the wind didn't destroy it.

Our crocus, daffodils and tulips have been better than ever. NOTE: Wild black iris.




Thankfully this winter we have had wet rather than cold weather and the wells and streams are full. If we are to have five months of hot dry weather all summer, we really need this break.

Sally and Briggie Freeman came out together for Easter and we all climbed on the train for Roma.

Nice hotel, The Gregorian,

next to The Hassler. Half the price and useful for The Hassler bar for pre-dinner drinks!! In fact one evening we didn't make it to dinner!! It was Sal's 70th and on hearing this news Luigi the barman for thirty years gave us such wonderful martinis and bits of lobster tails that we didn't feel like ploughing through three courses.

Briggie hadn't been to Rome and I think we packed five days sightseeing into three! Well, that's what my feet told me. Bit of shopping of course and some pleasant meals.

IN MEMORIAM TO CHINA CAT

A TRIBUTE TO AN OLD FRIEND

We were friends for over six years but only at arms length. However, we relied on each other over six years in different ways.

From the first day of our meeting she annually brought her offspring for our approval. They were always a credit to her except one, who turned out to be a little daft. Skippy. So named because she jumped up and down on the spot for no apparent reason until she fell over!! We were never introduced to the fathers! We chucked bricks at them if they came yowling around the house late at night, or as my husband called the wood he hurled at them, Catalogs!!

She came to visit us when I was camping in a small cottage during building works on the main house. This temporary camp site lasted for nearly two years and daily she and any youngsters in her care at the time were duly at the cottage door for whatever we had to give them.

Skippy became a bore because as the builders left every evening, she tried to embalm herself within the house and once was missing for at least five days during one of Italy’s many festas. She was spotted one evening jumping up and down behind a window and was finally released only to jump around for five minutes, then fall over. She had left her mark inside the house, needless to say.

Our friend can only have been two or three years old when we first met but the incessant courting by the local Nasties, the Toms of the neighbourhood, would have taken years off anyone’s life. She looked downtrodden and weary of life!

One day I saw her running scared across the field in front of our kitchen windows and was horrified to see no less than fifteen males of varying colours and size following her. She always ended up a rag at the end of the mating season and finally we caught her and put paid to the lotharios fun.

She seemed to appreciate our kindness but would never enter the house or allow us more than one stroke every morning as her bowl was filled with breakfast. We never saw her after breakfast and once fed she disappeared into the countryside.



We have other cats but she was my friend and we shared memories of difficult times. If it is possible to love a cat, I loved this one.

I have been in London over Christmas and only been feeding her in the mornings for about a week on my return to the farm, and everything seemed okay in her little world.

Except. Last evening I heard a loud crying outside the back door which continued until I opened it. I invited her in. Again she refused but allowed me to collect her in my arms and stroke her. Something, that for the past six years she always declined. Her fur looked ill kempt and she cried from time to time.

I took her to the pig sty where there is warm hay, gave her food and water, locked the door against any other animal intent on aggression and waited to check on her later in the evening.

Before I went to bed I heard her crying at the back door once again and I will never know how she had escaped from that locked pigsty.

She let me pick her up again, cried once or twice, and then started to purr loudly as if happy!!! I wrapped her in one of my old jackets and did not lock her up this time but put her under cover in sight of the back door and went to bed.

This morning she was dead but had thanked me in the only way she could by coming to say goodbye!!!

How did she know she was going to die that night and why did she want to say thank you for the small kindness we had shown to her?

China Cat was special and she will be a bright light forever in my mind.