The crumbling castle

In these endless days of leaden skies and steady downpours, we have to make do with small mercies  which we'd better grab with both hands.

Initially grey and rainy, it looked as if it was about to clear up in the early afternoon of December's first Sunday. This was duly confirmed by our weather app, which claimed that the rainclouds would be taking a breather for a couple of hours. 

Tired of being cooped up inside the house, we grabbed our coats and stepped outside, where all that unaccustomed fresh air instantly rushed to our heads.

However, with only a small and all but perfectly formed park within walking distance, any cobweb clearing outings involve a short drive at the very least. So, our first task was to pick up our car from our rented garage about 400 metres or so from Dove Cottage. 

While our car has got a garage box all of its own, there's a communal parking area as well. Offhandedly referred to as our photo studio, it's here that the white-painted brick wall we're using as a backdrop for outfit photos can be found.

My dress, with its glorious mix of abstract stripes on an burgundy background, is an old Think Twice find acquired pre-blog on a Friday afternoon shopping trip with my friend Inez. I remember falling in love with two dresses that day and ultimately settling for the other one as it came with its original belt. Needless to say, I soon regretted not buying this one too and went back for it on Monday.

Although it does not feature any blue in its stripes, it turns out to be the colour I most often accessorize it with. As the temperature had dropped to 5°C by now, I layered a blue t-shirt underneath, and wore a chunky blue cardigan on top. With its fan-like ajour pattern and orange buttons it is one of my collection of cardigans by retro label Zoë Loveborn, the majority if not all of which were charity shopped.

The fabric belt belongs to another dress, but turned out to be the exact shade of blue I was after. The mottled blue beaded necklace came from a long-gone vintage shop and, if I remember correctly, the enamelled brooch with its purple bearded Irises and cheerful yellow butterfly was a flea market find.

You can catch a fleeting glimpse of my opaques, which I happened to have in a matching shade of blue. Finally I donned my chocolate brown walking boots, as due to the incessant rain we expected things to be fairly waterlogged and to be faced with lots of mud.

In fact, it was the latter that ultimately decided our destination as it ruled out any of the local ex-clay pit nature reserves, where the mud would have consisted of sticky clay. 

By the time we'd finished taking photos and were ready to go, it briefly looked as if that weather app had got it wrong after all, as clouds were blanketing the sky once more.

Indeed, it was an almost black and white landscape which was waiting for us when we stepped out of our car after our ten-minute drive to the castle domain in the next village. 

Walking up the cobbled linden avenue towards the castle beckoning like a white beamed beacon in the distance, I can never help but think of my Dad, whose playground this was when he grew up here.

A rather illicit playground, I should add, as the castle as well as its gardens and parkland, which lay beyond the magnificent black wrought iron gate with its coat of arms and gilded finials, were obviously out of bounds for small semi-feral boys.

Not that this deterred them as, judging from my Dad's wartime childhood stories, they knew the grounds and those of the adjacent, equally forbidden fort, like the backs of their hands.

More black and white awaited us at the tastefully restored coach houses flanking the courtyard beyond the gate, now invitingly open to the public after the castle's last occupant died in 2011 and the domain was sold to the village council and Nature Conservation in 2012.

The cobbled courtyard ends at a painted bluestone balustrade with a central bridge crossing a moat and ultimately leading towards the castle itself.

Leaning over the balustrade, a leftward glance revealed a grayscale landscape stretched out beyond the reed-filled moat. Most of the deciduous trees had shed the last of their leaves, some of them conspicuously displaying last Spring's bird nests. The last of Autumn's russets and yellows provided some colour, as did the bank of evergreen Rhododendron bordering the castle side of the moat.

Stoical stone lions have been guarding the bridge across the moat since the castle was built in the 1770s, and I'm sure they could tell a story or two. Perhaps they even turned a blind eye to my Dad's mischievous adventures, although somehow I doubt that he and his friends ever ventured this close to the castle.

What I'm absolutely certain of is that they and the haughty sphinxes guarding the castle side of the bridge have watched the castle's decline with weary and worrying eyes.

Before crossing the bridge and taking a closer look at the castle, we took advantage of this photo opportunity to show you my warm Winter coat in alternating shades of brown and fudge. This was another Think Twice find, as was my burgundy woolly hat. My scarf, with its multicoloured stripes, was supplied by the charity shops.

While from afar the dazzling white castle still looks like the lavishly iced cake I once likened it to, its crumbling and decaying state seems to have become worse with each visit.

It is currently being used as an event location, and it just beggars belief that its ultimate restoration keeps getting postponed. Judging from the company's website, the castle remains available for events until the end of 2022, so it seems that its well-needed refurbishment won't be on the cards for next year either.

One can only hope that it won't be too late by the time the council finally gets around to it.

While the castle's website boasts of the wide range of beautiful halls and authentic castle rooms, time, tide and neglect have conspired in creating a sad case of rotting and crumbling woodwork. The castle's icing is cracked and honeycombed, and I'm sure the roof will have sprung a leak or two. Even the semi-circular bluestone steps leading down from the shuttered French doors at the back have subsided in places, lying in wait to trip up any unsuspecting ghosts from the past.

The steps lead down to a gravelled terrace with a panoramic view over the beautiful castle lake now filled to the brim as a result of the incessant rainfall.

It used to be a different story altogether, as back in the Summer of 2018 the lake's water level was at such a critically low level that a group of worried villagers had been making plans to rescue the resident fish. 

If you look closely at the photo on the top left, you might spot the thatched Summer house which was built on a small peninsula across the lake. Like the coach houses, this too has been restored, only for vandals to smash its windows and deface its interior with graffiti soon after it was finished.

Again, the tales those sphinxes could tell! I'm sure they are pining for their glory days, when crinolined ladies were being rowed to the thatched Summer house for secret rendez-vous.

We walked on the slippery paths circling the lake, glad of our walking sticks to keep our balance on the carpet of rain infused leaves or to test the water level of the marshy grassland whenever we needed to circumnavigate the flooded paths.

The view of the castle from the top of the lake is always a sight to behold. From here, it is looking particularly fairy-tale like, meeting its reflection in the placid water of the lake.

Although it was only just gone four o'clock when we arrived back at the courtyard, the Winter-low sun was already making its descent into dusk, the golden hues of the sunset reflecting in the coach house windows.

Time to call it a day and go home ... but not before performing my duty as a statue, replacing one of those which had once been placed at regular intervals around the lake. 

Not sure what those lions and sphinxes must have thought of my efforts ...

Just a perfect day

Years of experience have taught me that time flies whether you're having fun or not, but it most definitely shifts a gear when you do, and particularly so when you're on holiday. 

And so our final day - Wednesday the 5th of August - dawned, and it was another perfect one, with the sun lighting up the early morning haze.

Lesson learned, we'd set the alarm on Jos's mobile, so that we were up and about with enough time to spare to get ready at a leisurely pace. Stepping outside, it turned out that our opposite neighbour was up early too and was watching us dolefully across the Hydrangeas in her front garden. Probably she hadn't had her breakfast cereals yet!

From my travelling capsule wardrobe, I dug this red and white three-quarter sleeved Breton top and red floral wide-legged trousers, which was one of the outfits I'd put together when packing. The top is ancient, and it was the blue charity shopped one I wore on our first day that reminded me of this one which, after a frantic search, I found hidden away at the back of a drawer, together with its navy sister. 

The trousers, which were a sales bargain from New Look a couple of years ago, have accompanied me on many a holiday ever since. Apart from their good looks, they have the advantage of being slightly cropped, so that their hems aren't being dragged through mud and puddles when out walking.

The wooden beads were charity shopped, as were the pink floral trainers (or sneakers, if you prefer to call them thus), which were a lucky £ 4 find in a Shrewsbury charity shop during our last UK holiday.

They might look a bit fancy, but they are extremely comfortable and have survived many a walk on moderately muddy paths. Which is exactly what we had in mind that day!

After another finger-lickingly delicious breakfast, we set our car's controls a.k.a. Truus, our satnav with the Dutch accent, for Bulskampveld, the provincial domain we briefly visited on Monday. Along the way, we stopped off at a small local supermarket to get some sandwiches for a picnic.

Rather than just a stroll in the castle grounds, we'd planned a longer walk in the woods and fields surrounding the domain, making use of a handy map based on numbered markers.

We've got a whole library of such maps, adding to them whenever we visit somewhere new and we love them for their ease of use, although they offer no guarantee for people like us who are prone to getting lost. So, after arriving at our destination, we parked our car, and went in search of number 7, which would be the start of our walk. Easy-peasy, surely? You can see the number 7 at the top of the map, with the P indicating the car park directly above it.

Imagine our confusion when after searching high and low number 7 remained elusive, finding only a signpost with number 38 instead. Looking at the map didn't get us anywhere either, as number 38 was nowhere to be found! We could only surmise that some of the routes and numbers had been changed since the map was printed. It wasn't the first time we'd come across this problem.

Not wanting to admit defeat, we started walking into the direction of where the next marker, number 8, should have been if all was well, but I'm sure it won't come as a surprise that there wasn't any sign of that one either. Instead, we arrived at a fork, with the path up ahead being a private one, while the other was going right instead of left, which was the direction we wanted to go.

Retracing our steps, we eventually found a narrow track leading into the woods (bottom left in the above collage), which soon ended and disappeared into a marshy meadow (above). We could see an obvious track meandering through the high grasses, so we followed it into the direction of a line of trees, taking care not to step on the tiny frogs which leapt to safety upon our approach.

Just following our instincts, we took a left turn when we finally made it back into the woods and onto a woodland path when - lo and behold! - we spotted a number 9 signpost. 

In the full belief that we were back on track, we started following the signs which would ultimately lead us towards number 9, the path making twists, turns and zigzags until we were no longer sure of the direction into which we were going.

At some point, the obvious path ended at a closed gate, with the signposts directing us along an initially overgrown boardwalk, with a pool of water shimmering beyond, reflecting the white cotton wool clouds floating into the blue Summer sky.

Poring over our map, even these two self-confessed "topographically disoriented" could see that there wasn't a pool of water in the approach to number 9. And no, it isn't the splash of blue beneath number 8, as that's the castle lake!

With a view as gorgeous like this, who were we to complain? 

Still intrigued about the sudden appearance of this watery slice of heaven, I trawled the Internet when we got home, finding a reference to a boardwalk crossing one of the newly constructed ponds created by altering the course of a brook called the Bornebeek in 2016. Mystery solved!

Back on solid ground, a number of gates indicated that we were passing through grazing land, and indeed at one point we spotted a magnificent specimen of the Galloway cattle which are roaming the nature reserve. 

When we finally arrived at number 9, we were dismayed to discover that the next number signposted was number 12 rather than number 10 as indicated on our map. But at least it was going into the right direction, along a long and straight semi-surfaced tree-lined avenue (bottom left), so we confidently proceeded accordingly. Soon we even found a bench on which to have our picnic. 

It was then that things started going ever so slightly pear-shaped when, instead of going straight ahead, the next marker pointed us to the left and then, annoyingly, left again, so that we were actually walking back into the direction we'd come from. I decided to use common sense, ignore the marker and go right, and right again, which brought us back onto the straight and narrow. Still, doubt had set in and I was about to panic when I caught a glimpse of the ivy clad water tower we'd seen on our first day. Phew!

When I posted some photos of our walk on Instagram that day, I captioned them with: had a wonderful day of not getting lost in the woods and not being eaten by wild animals! 

Quite chuffed with the fact that in spite of the out of date map - or perhaps because of it - we managed to not actually get lost! 

The day wasn't finished yet, of course. In fact, it was only about 1.30 pm when we found ourselves back at the car park, ready for our next adventure, which started with a 15-minute drive to Loppem, a village about 10 kilometers south-west of Bruges.

Here, a small cobbled lane leads towards a little-known and well-hidden gem, Loppem Castle. 

Entering the castle grounds through the gatehouse (above, top left) it all looks deceptively peaceful, but in reality there is no escaping the constant noise of the traffic passing along the busy E40 motorway which is virtually skirting the domain.

The original Loppem Castle was built in the 17th century and destroyed in the 18th. A century later, in 1856, Baron Charles van Caloen and his wife, Countess Savina de Gourcy Serainchamps, appointed the English architect Edward Pugin to draw up plans for a new castle on the site of the original one.

Finding Pugin’s style too English, Baron van Caloen wanted a more Flemish look to his castle, so he roped in his friend, the Belgian architect Jean Bethune, to amend the plans. Construction of the castle was completed by 1863 and the result is an excellent example of the Flemish neo-Gothic style. 

The prominent sandstone bay extension houses the family chapel.

The blues sky we'd woken up to had done a disappearing act by now and as it seemed as if rain was imminent, we were glad of the opportunity to visit the castle's richly decorated and furnished interior

In perfect harmony with the neo-Gothic architecture, the furniture designed by Pugin as well as Bethune’s stained-glass windows, chandeliers, staircases and fireplaces were all executed with immense skill by local craftsmen.

The impressive entrance hall or vestibule (below, top left) is where van Caloen and his guests played billiards. With its height of 17 metres and designed as a three-storey hall, it combines the idea of the English baronial hall with the grandeur of the staircase hall in a French chateau. The stunning encaustic floor tiles were produced by Minton Hollis from Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire.

While the neo-Gothic interiors and the domestic living quarters downstairs show life as it was in the 19th and early 20th centuries, the first floor rooms are largely devoted to the rich art collection many of which was collected by Charles' grandson Baron Jean van Caloen (1884– 1972) on his travels.

The family chapel (above, bottom right) obviously was a notable exception.

We were largely on our own during our visit, so that we could explore the castle's many treasures at ease. That is, until our solitude was rudely disrupted by the entrance of a couple and their three children, including a boisterous toddler whom his parents mostly left unsupervised. And then there was the not-quite teenage daughter who taunted us by standing directly behind us whenever we wanted to take a closer look at something or stood in a room's doorway to gaze at its plexied off contents.

Case in point were the rooms on the first floor used by the Belgian King Albert I and Queen Elisabeth during their stay at Loppem. This was at the end of the First World War, when the Belgian royal family requested that the castle be temporarily made available for their use.

There's a maze in the grounds, for which a separate entrance fee has to be paid. Designed in 1873 using red and green hornbeam by the brothers Albert and Ernest van Caloen, it is rumoured to be notoriously easy to get lost in. We never made it there, as the pesky family was last seen making enquiries on how to get there.  Perhaps we'll come back here one day outside the school holidays!

It would have been the perfect opportunity for a proper walk around the castle park as well. But as we - and especially Jos, who was suffering somewhat from backache - were all walked out by then, we just took the lane skirting the back of the castle to return to the car park. Doesn't it look especially fairy-tale like meeting its reflection in the lake?

With the afternoon still too young to call it a day, we roped in Truus again to take us to Blijzaak, a charity shop devoted to vintage and design which I'd come across when trawling the Internet.

It had started drizzling by then, but hardly enough to spur our windscreen wipers into action. By the time we'd reached our destination, the sun had reappeared acting as if nothing had happened.

The shop was a lot smaller than we'd imagined, but we still found a funky vintage lamp for our sitting room. The shop also had a café with outside seating, where we had cappuccinos served in 1960s Boch cups, just like the ones we have at home. 

Then it was back to our B&B where we collapsed on our beds for a nap (Jos) and a couple of pages in the book I was trying to finish. We'd ordered another tapas board, so that was our evening meal sorted!

So, that was that! If you've come here hoping for the solution of the out of centre empty cupboard mystery, then I'm afraid I have to disappoint you, as we forgot to ask Veronique about it. But that's more than enough reason for another visit, isn't it?

Instead you'll have to made do with the outfit I was wearing for our journey home on Thursday. 

One of my favourite vintage maxi skirts was joined here by a modern, but charity shopped, blue and white short-sleeved knit, topped by one of my collection of thrifted King Louie cardigans. The belt and beaded necklace were charity shop finds as well.

We made it home in one piece, although it wasn't without its hick-ups. Truus, whom we seem to shout at just as much as Marie-Jeanne, our old satnav, made us do a detour all the way via Brussels. At least that meant we didn't have to face delays at the Kennedy Tunnel, although we are counting ourselves lucky there weren't any queues on the equally infamous Brussels orbital.

We were glad to have this one waiting for us, that's for sure!

It'll be business a usual - whatever that may be - in my next post. See you again soon!

September days are here

Although I've still got at least two travelogue episodes up my sleeve, I wanted to give both you and myself a little breather, treating you to a catch-up of what else has been happening in September.

Admittedly, I am loath to finish what will probably be this year's final travelogue all too soon, wanting to bathe in its golden hued memories as long as I possibly can. In other words, I am procrastinating!

Plus, I cannot leave it too long to record what normal life - forgive the euphemism - has been like ever since we landed with our feet firmly back on the ground. After all, we are already half-way through September which, incidentally, is exactly six months since things got very pear-shaped indeed. 

And let's be frank: that's six months of living a half-life, having one's wings clipped, constantly balancing on a tight rope and treading water.

But hey, that's not what you're here for, right? Let's quit moaning and talk about clothes!

Both the skirt and top were unworn items from my travelling capsule wardrobe, so why not give them a whirl instead of putting them straight back into my wardrobe?

The green Crimplene skirt is part of a suit, its companion a short-sleeved jacket, while you might remember the funky, eye-confusing bird-print top as part of a recent charity shop haul. I took my lead from the top's print by adding a black and white plastic woven belt and long necklace. The black-rimmed vintage brooch holds a bouquet of flowers. 

Having survived my first day back at work on Monday, which was far less painful than I'd expected, this is what I wore on Tuesday last week. 

I'd anticipated the worst case scenario of a garden full of wilted patio pots and hanging baskets upon our return on Sunday before last, but thankfully only a handful of plants appeared to have succumbed to our neglect. I immediately set to work with my watering can, giving even the dead-looking ones a thorough soaking.

Apart from two tiny pots of Busy Lizzies, the plants in the passageway have all survived. This photo was taken through our kitchen window, hence the bothersome reflections.

Pelargoniums or annual Geraniums seem to thrive on neglect, as they have all come through unscathed, with those sharing their homes with less hardy annuals having gained the upper hand.

The Osteospermums haven't stopped flowering yet either, and neither have the fleeting but prolific Nasturtiums.

Thursday made me reach for this vintage Casualmaker by Sy Frankl dress which, with its tie collar and satiny fabric, could almost be a carbon copy of the dress I wore a couple of weeks ago. I couldn't believe I hadn't yet worn it this year, which is quite unheard of. No pockets though!

Pink is usually my colour of choice for accessorizing its green leafy print, and this time was no exception. I added a raffia belt which, apart from pink also contains hints of tan, yellow and white, and pinned a pink ceramic brooch to the dress's collar. Further accessories were a pink beaded necklace and plastic ring and pink, yellow and turquoise bracelet. My green shoes were the only retail items in my outfit.

My outfit definitely matched some of our garden's flowers: the bubblegum pink of Sedum spectabile, the first of the delicate, blush pink Japanese Anemones, the dusky pinks of the Hydrangea blooms in their Autumn attire and the cotton candy pink of the Snapdragons.

Our little monster seemed to be glad that we were back, although we suspect that what she'd missed the most was being able to go out into the garden. Nevertheless, she did endure - however briefly - a spot of enforced hugging. 

Madam's favourite spot is on her old faded cushion at the far end of the bench, where she is now enjoying the shelter of an umbrella of Nasturtium leaves.

On Friday, our neighbour was having his windows replaced, so we escaped the constant hammering and drilling by going on an extended shopping trip.

We'd even taken a picnic to be consumed at the famous Art Deco water tower. 

I was wearing the cherry print Zoë Loveborn dress I'd snapped up during our first post-lockdown charity shopping trip back in July. I accentuated my waist with a red elastic belt with flower clasp which used to belong to another dress from the same brand. My red and white spotty necklace came from a beloved but defunct vintage shop, while both bracelets were charity shopped.

It was a reasonably warm but slightly windy day, so I wore a red cardigan on top most of the time I was outside. The tomato red sandals were a sales bargain back in August.

We visited a total of three local shops where I was lucky enough to find several colourfully patterned garments. You'll get to see them in full either on me or my loyal assistent Angelica soon, but here's a little taster. Clockwise from top left are a vintage circle skirt, a King Louie dress, a frilly Kookai shirt, a Saint Germain Paris wrap dress, a King Louie faux-wrap top and a H&M jacket.

The jewellery displays yielded two beaded necklaces and a handful of modern brooches. The flamingo and stag head are in a soft and squishy plastic, and might have been intended for children, but beggars can't be choosers in these flea market-less age. Besides, I do love their quirkiness.

Our final buy was a 1970s yellow snack-size Tupperware tub, which you can see in one of the upcoming collages.

People were generally well-behaved in all three of the shops, although there was a little episode in one of them. We'd gone in together with a trolley but at some point we briefly went our separate ways. I was just about to rejoin Jos, when one of the sales assistants asked me where my trolley was. I truthfully admitted it was with my husband upon which he told me off as if I was a naughty child.  I retorted I couldn't see the problem as there was nobody else in sight so social distance was more than guaranteed. None too pleased, we went to pay at the till, where the same guy turned up and started ringing up our purchases, wearing his mask under his nose. Obviously I couldn't let the opportunity pass. His defense was - wait for it - that his glasses would steam up otherwise! The cheek! 

Our last stop for the day was the garden centre, as we needed to stock up on bread mix from their baking department. I'm sure it won't surprise you that I couldn't make it past the display of Spring bulbs without making some purchases. Spoilt for choice, I had to keep the diminutive size of our garden in mind and limit myself to a few old favourites and one oddity, some golden hued grape hyacinths.

And then there was a buy 5, get one free, sale in the perennials department, which it would have been silly not to make use of. We picked three different varieties of Hellebore and a Pulsatilla fort some early colour next year, as well as a Heuchera and an Astrantia.

On the top right is one of our Chocolate Cosmos (Cosmos atrosanguineus) plants, both of which seemed to be write-offs after our week away. I cut them back and then watered and fed them, and now one of them is full of green shoots. Result! The other one, I'm afraid, didn't survive.

Saturday was another bright and sunny day, the weather slowly but surely gearing up for Monday and Tuesday, for which temperatures in the low thirties had been forecasted.

It was my birthday and although we hadn't anything in particular planned for the day, during a breakfast brainstorm we came up with the idea of driving up to Castle de Renesse in Oostmalle, which is located in the north of the Province of Antwerp. 

You've joined me there quite a few times before, as the castle is the venue of a small antiques fair taking place twice a year, in Spring and Autumn.

Sadly, no markets are bound to take place until further notice, but the estate and woodland surrounding the castle are the perfect place for a ramble.

I was wearing a new dress for the occasion, and yes, I do mean new and not new-to-me! I bought in the C&A sales when we were looking for a pair of shorts for Jos back in August. It's a fit and flare midi dress with a flouncy hem and I thought its lightweight flower sprinkled burgundy fabric was just perfect for this time of year. 

I used contrasting ochre yellow for my belt and batwing cardi, and added a favourite multicoloured beaded necklace.

We were pleased to see that the scaffolding, which had been rather spoiling the view the last couple of times we were there, was finally gone. However, we were completely stumped by the fact that there wasn't any water in the moat, leaving the castle's foundations bare.

At first we thought they'd drained the moat as part of the restoration works, but when we passed several sorry looking minor ponds without a drop of water in them, we were starting to get a bit worried.

The alarm bells starting ringing in earnest when, on our way back, we passed the lake in front of the castle. At other times the most picturesque of views, we were now looking at the castle across a muddy wasteland. A newspaper article only a couple of days later confirmed that there was a huge problem which is attributed to a combination of the ongoing drought and drainage caused by two nearby building sites. 

Our walk took us to the outskirts of the estate and, in spite of not having a walking map of the area, we briefly ventured off the well-trodden paths aided by a photo I'd taken with my phone of the map displayed at the entrance. 

And no, we did't get lost and safely made it back to the paths criss-crossing the estate, eventually finding a secluded picnic bench in the woods to rest our feet and eat our sandwiches. Just the two of us, a couple of  wood pigeons and a pesky wasp.

We were intrigued by what initially looked like a piece of driftwood in front of the picturesque old bailiff's cottage (top right).

Closer inspection revealed that it was alive with a veritable army of strange looking creatures. 

An inscription clarified that these were "de hummeltjes van het bos", for which the closest translation I can think of is "the urchins of the wood". An enchanting encounter although I thought some of the urchins were looking quite startled.

So, that's it for now. I will be resuming my travelogue in my next post and hope to see you there.

Until then, dear friends and readers, do stay safe, positive and as fabulous as possible.