Harvest Home

 

I really appreciated the comments on last week’s entry, thank you.

 

I’ve recently found a new Journal, which has some wonderful tales in it of Terry’s Polish Mother and Grandparents. She certainly deserves a wider audience, please visit and say Hi.  Bowl of Cherries

 

I have to say the children in my class are not what I first thought. They are now showing their true colours and they are the worst class I’ve worked with. They are the worst class the teacher has worked with. They are so bad the supply teacher on Wednesday afternoon refused to work with them and had to send for help from the Deputy Head. Twelve of them had been so awful, they were taken out and whipped! No…… sorry, that was just wishful thinking, they had Behaviour Slips, which go in their file and they missed all their breaks on Thursday.

 

We are now on a get-tough campaign with them, I hope I am able to report an improvement soon. Thank goodness half term break is coming up.

 

Harper, bless him, has developed that really smelly, old dog smell, so he had to go in the bath today, with half a bottle of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo.  He smells much better now but is so peed off with me. He walks off if I go near him and keeps giving me the dirtiest looks.

 

Willow is also cross with me, we had to deal with the tangles on her legs and back end. She is the sweetest, most docile cat you could wish for, until you try to groom her that is and then I’m afraid she’s about as loveable as a bag of vipers. The scratches and bites I’ve had in the past are the reason she had the tangles now. I got to the stage where I couldn’t bear to deal with her. But, we have bought a new electric hair trimmer and all those tangles have been whizzed off and we will be starting from scratch (excuse the pun). As the hair grows back I will have to persevere and keep brushing her. She does look funny though, rather like a Standard Poodle, with a lion cut.

 

We went to see The Yeoman of The Guard on Tuesday night. Haven’t been to a Gilbert and Sullivan since I lived with my parents and I remembered this one had a song I really like. (I have a song to sing Oh!) Well the music and singing was very good but for heavens sake, can’t they get some young people to join these Operatic groups?

 

The handsome, young Colonel Fairfax was 60 if he was a day, short and squat and made up like a pantomime dame, in a vain attempt to make him look younger. As for the young maiden, daughter of the Constable of The Tower, that fell in love with him. Well, she had a fabulous voice but could only shop at Evans and was at least 40.

I’m not saying there is anything wrong with these things, after all, I’m 53 and fat but I don’t go round masquerading as an lithesome 18 year old virgin…. well not often! I might get away with it at the College for the Blind but I’m probably not allowed to say any of this, as it’s not PC.

 

I apologise for being ageist, fatist and visually imparedist. And while I’m at it, for implying old dogs smell and that Poodles with that haircut look silly, or that I might possibly inflict corporal punishment on children.

 

I love this time of year, the colours and the satisfying feeling of ‘All being safely gathered in’. We picked our Blenheim Orange  apples today and we have the usual glut of tomatoes, so I shall be making soup. Oh! And a Happy Thanksgiving on Monday 9th October to my Canadian relatives and anyone there reading this.

 

Last night was the Harvest Home at the farm Mike’s family lived on in the early 19th Century. It was just what I hoped it would be and more.

 

The Barn was laid with rows and rows of trestle tables, with bales of straw to sit on and a huge log fire roared at one end, filling the barn with the aromatic scent of wood smoke.

           

 

 

A Cider Press, with layer on layer of apples in cloth bags being squeezed, so that they were giving off their wonderful aroma.

         

  

The women from the village and local farms baked apple pies, I can honestly say I have never seen so many in my life and there was a large cauldron of hot custard to go with them. In addition to the pies was roast pork and roast lamb to slip into fresh, new, bread rolls.  And that was all washed down with locally brewed beer, cider and perry.

 

A lady sitting just inside the door demonstrated spinning wool, on a New Zealand style of wheel.

               

 She told me things I had never known about spinning, like, the name of the length of the fibres in the fleece are called the staple and that the wool from the diverse parts of the fleece are used for different things, as the quality varies.

 

The Morris dancing was excellent

   

but the best thing was the atmosphere, everyone was having such a lovely time, in such a fabulous setting.

 

Eric, the owner of the farm, (on the left)

           

asked Mike if he would do the reading in the Harvest Service, which was held in the barn before we ate. It was  a reading from Genesis and I think the ghosts of his ancestors must have inspired him because I have never heard him perform better.

 

Eric told us that his beautiful horses, pictured in a previous entry, had come second to the Beamishteam in a ploughing match that day but they had won several cups during the season. Eric is such a generous, kind man and to open up his home like that, when he had so much going on was truly selfless. The setting up of the barn must have been a huge task.

 

After the food, there was entertainment of music and singing

 

          

but as we had about an hour’s journey home, we only stayed for the early part. I would have liked to stay longer.

 

While we were picking the apples today, we  looked for Mike's glasses that he lost when we picked the other tree a couple of weeks ago. They haven't turned up yet but at least he didn't lose his Reserve pair.

 

        

 

 I can't find who sent me the Fall Fairy but I didn't want to waste it, so it's here anyway. Thank You, whoever you are. x.