Embroidered letter N (hand embroidered by Mary Addison)

On Tuesday and across town for the last of the informal knitting sessions held at The Holst birthplace Museum. It’s a good walk of a half hour or so but architecturally delightful and never boring as I pass by a score or more of caryatids (in between the shop fronts in Montpellier), scores (most definitely in the plural) of classical columns of all major orders and a blacksmith’s dream of ironmongery (balconies and ornamental railings). When I worked in the library at Balliol College, Oxford, I thought Broad Street the most beautiful road to work in the world (with the Sheldonian by Christopher Wren, the Clarendon building in classical style, the 17C Museum of the History of Science, Victorian, Gothic and not so Gothic college buildings, a glimpse of the Bodleian and on top of the worst building in the street, belonging to Exeter College, one of Antony Gormley’s 7′ nude figures). Cheltenham,  from the Montperllier  Rotunda down and along the Promenade is pretty good too in a more civic sort of way, fine buildings on one side and two sets of public gardens on the other. Both roads terrific but different. But then you can’t really compare apples and pears, can you?

Embroidered letter N (hand embroidered by Mary Addison)

The temperature has dropped considerably recently, so the warmth of the Holst kitchen with its coal fired range and the sight of  knitting friends already industriously chatting and working wool was very welcome.  As promised, a Victoria sponge sat centre stage on the kitchen table – yet another beyond-the-call-of-duty production by the curator, Laura. A further one off knitting session was suggested for early December and the curator came very close to promising another series starting in the spring – perhaps one a month. She’s also keen to set up some sort of reading group and possibly also other craft based sessions. I offered to lead one on patchwork, which would be appropriate in a house of this period. Meanwhile back to knitting, which sadly didn’t last long. I began a lesson in cabling but this came to an abrupt halt when we were  stymied by ambiguous (or just plain wrong) instructions in the pattern I wanted to follow. (Fingers crossed that once at home an online search will reveal an amendment to the pattern – but how irritating.) I put down my needles and gave full attention to chatting.

Sketches of various Ns found online

Cooking seems to have become the theme of this week. The grandson arrived with a tin of sticky toffee fairy cakes he’d made with one of his aunts and he and his mother then stationed themselves on the front doorstep to sell them to help save the coelacanth, a fish of ancient origin which is often described as a living fossil. Rain was in the air so we hurried the sale on by buying a few cakes for ourselves, and  a good thing it was too as they were a delicious concoction of various ground nuts and dates. At 40p a cake the passers-by who kindly stopped to buy one and to hear a four year old’s explanation as to why the coelacanth needed saving would not have been disappointed.

Curator Laura Kinnear serving tea

My husband was keen to show the family the Holst Birthplace Museum and fortuitously this Saturday was one of their drop in period cooking sessions. We set off from home just as the rain came – not a little dispiriting for a four year old on a bike. By the time we reached the museum, the bike was balanced precariously across the hood of his sister’s buggy and his steps were dragging. Weary, wet children and museums don’t always make good partners and for a while things were tense. However, being asked to stir the drop scone mixture was a great pick me up for our thwarted cycle rider and he and the spoon were soon  inseparable. Caraway biscuits, after an uncertain first bite, rapidly became firm favourites and three or four biscuits later, we imposed a ban – unsuccessful as the curator gave him some in a little paper bag as we left! My husband meanwhile enjoyed a slice of pale, fruity Queen cake, which included cream in its recipe and had a subtle and delicate  flavour  for a fruit cake (I just had a very little bite!) – why do we still not make this Victorian favourite today?

Family have returned to London but I’m off tomorrow to help with things there. Here is an N which I hope resembles the mosaic N I set out to emulate; the ‘grouting’ is gold thread.