Time passes. Listen. Time passes.

Is that the time? Goodness me, it’s time to get out of my warm winter bed. No time for laziness, even though it’s Saturday!

Now, what shall I wear? I admit that this is one of the first things that pop into my mind. During the week, I have a rail of possible outfits put together in order to save time (there it is again!).

Not so on weekend days, when I love to throw open my wardrobe doors, and wait for inspiration to strike.













Breakfast time: back to the late 1960s, with this handpainted breakfast set by Belgian pottery Boch. We have several of their designs, but today we have opted for Bernadette. We even have a coffee pot to match. Ah, first cup of coffee of the day, to give it a kick start.

Shopping time! This is Dove Cottage’s version of a shopping list.

Dating from the 1930s, I fell in love with it after seeing it in BBC Homes and Antiques magazine back in 2005.

Imagine my delight when just a couple of months later, while on holiday, I unearthed this one in an antique shop in Lewes.

Although over the years we have collected quite a lot of kitchenalia, for which we both have a special fondness, this certainly remains one of our best finds ever.

On Saturday, there is no grocery shopping, though: this is all being done by Mr. S. while I'm at work, leaving our weekends free for another kind of shopping! Quite a luxury, no? What more could a working girl want?

Shopping means either visiting charity shops or, when there's a flea market on, that's where we head off to.

This is what came out of the wardrobe: a long-sleeved Crimplene dress, with a pussy bow and a zip at the front.


The pretty label says Shamrock, which I haven't been able to find out anything about.











Predominantly black, it has a kind of trellis pattern in white, against which red-hearted white flowers are growing.

I added a red cardigan with a ruffly collar, as well as red opaques.

The flower in my brooch almost matches the dress's flowers.

I continued the red theme with a belt with unusual square plastic buckle, a chunky red plastic ring and a watch with a red strap!

I wore the checked winter coat you've seen here before, adding a rich purple flower embroidered velvet scarf and a blue velvet beret.

The beret is a treasured vintage find, made in England, by Pauline for Bermona.










We were headed to an indoor flea market, which yielded a couple of nice surprises, but I will be showing you these in another post.

It took, however, until after we'd had lunch and another cup of coffee that we made our first purchase.

By the time we were ready to go home, it had started raining and we had to dash for our car which luckily wasn't parked too far away.

As we drove home, we passed the beautiful park, Den Brandt, where we snapped some foggy photos last month, looking quite differently in the pouring rain.

No stopping for a walk this time. Instead, it was straight back to Dove Cottage, where the ticking of clocks is a constant reminder of the passing of time.

Time passes. Listen. Time passes. (*)

It is hard to believe that on Saturday, it was twenty two years ago to the day that Mr. S. and I got married. Another reminder of the relentless passing of time!

(*) Dylan Thomas, Under Milk Wood

Sweet September

We've been having golden September days, with lots of sunshine and hardly any rain worth mentioning. Temperatures have been exceptionally mild, giving our summer wardrobes a final run before being bedded for winter.

Ah, Indian summer! In Flemish we have another, in my opinion more fitting term for it: nazomer, which translates as "after summer". After all, meteorological summer ended on the first of September, so any summer weather beyond that date should be considered a bonus, a dessert after summer's main course of June, July and August.

But the signs are there that all is not as it should be. Summer's abundant growth is over, leaving seed-heads and berries in its wake. The leaves on certain trees are starting to turn and those that are still green have long ago lost their freshness. Chestnuts and acorns are littering the ground, and behind it all is the faint but unmistakable smell of decay.

The light has changed too, the sun no longer being so high, casting shadows where there weren't any before. There's a chill in the air in the mornings, dewy spiderwebs appear out of nowhere, and ribbons of melancholic mist are shrouding the landscape.

“Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?”
Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle -

I've always had a soft spot for autumn. At least, I do for its mellow stage, until it turns nasty with drizzle and rain and stormy weather and it's all downhill to winter. More so than the First of January or the first signs of Spring, September signifies the excitement of change and new beginnings for me, which I've always attributed to the fact that I was born in September and that traditionally it's the start of a new school term.

"Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.”
Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

There, I have quoted from two of my favourite books!

Last week I resumed my Friday afternoon shopping trips with Princess Inez, who'd given me a gift voucher from Think Twice for my birthday.

I wanted to spend the voucher on one single piece, but there wasn't much to tempt me in their new collection, so I'm keeping it for later, and only bought these little beauties, which I can't wait to start wearing.

The berets are both from the British Kangol label (I am still mourning the Kangol beret I've lost on the bus last winter) while the hat is Italian made.

Saturday was another glorious day. After taking some good old outfit photos, we headed to a seldom visited charity shop, which is a little out of our way, but which we have never ever left empty-handed.

Dress: one of my first vintage dresses, Think Twice
Brooches: last week's flea market
Beads, handbag: Think Twice
Cardigan and shoes: retail

Apart from an Italian made jacket for Jos and some books on Expo 58, we found this charming Lourdes wall hanging.

It is a little worse for wear, some of the embossed letters having worn off, and there is some foxing going on, but surely that just adds to its old-fashioned kitsch appeal.

After the obligatory picnic, we carried on to another shop, where we struck gold again.

This particular shop, which we often visit, has a good range of English language books, and these are the ones I picked up.

First up is a 1971 paperback edition of Dylan Thomas's Under Milk Wood. As it features Elisabeth Taylor and Peter O'Toole on the cover, it is clear that it was printed with the upcoming 1972 film in mind.

The other book is something of a novelty, called The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt: A Novel in Pictures, by Caroline Preston. The blurb says "Full color vintage memorabilia on every page", and indeed it's full of vintage postcards, Jazz Age ephemera and typewritten snippets. And look: there's a Corona, just like mine!

You can have a further peek inside here.

My final purchases were a little red and white polka dot cardigan and an amazing green, vintage, three quarter-sleeve jacket. I have a strong suspicion that it was once part of a suit ...

It seems  I have found my charity shopping mojo again. In fact it's ...

 ... Mucking Fagic indeed!

(Photo taken at annoying and extremely noisy fun fair which took place in our village last weekend)

You are invited to join me again for the final stretch of our little trip in my next post. Hope to see you then!

Those were the days of roses, poetry and prose

In my last travel post, I left you on a rainy Wednesday with some sun thrown in later in the day.

On Thursday we finally woke to the sun streaming in through our cottage's windows! This obviously called for a day at the seaside and that's exactly what we did: we drove 35 miles south to the lovely seaside town of Tenby.

From previous years, we knew exactly where to park, but were not sure how to get there. Nor did the lady who lives in our Sat Nav, whom for some long-forgotten reason we call "Marie-Jeanne". After taking a few wrong turns and ending up exactly where we started, somehow my instinct took over and I effortlessly guided us to the correct street at the end of which was the car park in question. Needless to say, Jos was duly impressed!

The sun continued to shine and I could have worn a dress for the occasion. Unfortunately by then I had lost all trust in the weather, so I wore jeans combined with a vintage top. One particularly naughty seagull did not approve of my choice though, as I was promptly bombarded. Luckily, we were able to remove most of it by using paper hankies and antibacterial hand gel, so that I didn't look like a complete dunce for the rest of the day.

As we were picnicking on a bench tucked away on the steps below Tenby's Esplanade, the gull was probably venting its disappointment at not getting its share of our sandwiches!

In spite of the glorious weather, most of the 2 mile stretch of South Beach was relatively empty, the much smaller Castle Beach being the place of choice for most people, who seem to prefer being packed like sardines onto this rather limited space.

The tide was out, so we were able to walk right up to St. Catherine's Island, which at high tide is completely surrounded by water. I guess that's why it's called an island ...

Since last year, St. Catherine's Island and its Fort can be visited but as I have vertigo, the see-through walkway to the main part of the island was a definite no-no, my legs turning to jelly by even looking at it.

Instead we just wandered around enjoying this colourful seaside town, and popping into every charity shop we came across.

We woke up on Friday morning to the news that the UK had voted Leave and had breakfast while following the developments on TV.  If it all felt a bit strange to us, I wonder what it was like for those UK residents who had confidently voted Remain ...
In the following days, most people we spoke to, upon learning we were from Belgium, actually apologized to us. It certainly was the topic of most of the conversations we overheard that day.

After breakfast we drove south again, this time over the border with Carmarthenshire, to the lovely village of Laugharne, well-known for being the home of Dylan Thomas for the last four, and very creative, years of his life.

One of his most famous works, Under Milk Wood, was written here. It is an absolute favourite of mine and I have even borrowed its opening line as the title of my very first blog post.

Dylan, with his wife Caitlin and their children, lived in the Boat House from 1949 until Dylan's death in 1953.

From the car park at Laugharne, which is liable to flooding, the Boat House can be seen set in the cliffs overlooking the Taf Estuary.

Walking along the estuary and up the steep path leading to the Boat House, we first passed Mr. Thomas's Writing Shed, the inside of which can be glimpsed through the small window.

As we already visited the Boat House itself a couple of years ago, we only stopped by for a coffee this time.
















Afterwards we returned along the foreshore, where we had our picnic with a view. Not only did our bench have a view, it had a roof too, which was a good thing as it had started raining yet again!

Dylan Thomas is buried in the churchyard here, his and his wife Caitlin's grave marked by a simple white cross. I found the churchyard, and especially the older, overgrown part, quite atmospheric.

We ended our day by visiting Laugharne Castle, the "castle brown as owls" as Dylan called it in his "Poem in October":

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour

And over the sea wet church the size of a snail

With its horns through mist and the castle

Brown as owls

A delightful surprise was the Summer House, where it is said that both Dylan Thomas and author Richard Hughes put pen to paper. I tried to leave my mark by writing a blog post, but the typewriter's ribbon was in an even worse condition than my Corona's!

The view from its windows as well as from the castle's ramparts were breathtaking.

By this time a week had passed and we were already halfway through our holiday. I'm sorry to say that the weather did not improve dramatically during our last week, but I will tell you all about its ups and downs in a next post.

In the meantime, this weekend I have a flea market right outside our front door to look forward to. Let's hope the weather is dry, if not sunny, for it.

Walking back to happiness

Being back at work since Tuesday, our holiday is slowly receding into a distant memory.
Fortunately there are the many photographs we took to remind us that, in spite of the less than perfect weather, we did have a great and relaxing holiday, and that we made the most of the dry and - heaven forbid - sunny moments whenever they presented themselves.

As we were surrounded by beautiful coastal scenery, we tried to be at the seaside as much as we could.

On the Monday of the first week, after the initial rain had subsided, we drove the 20 minutes or so to the secluded beach at Mwnt. Driving along ever smaller country lanes banked by hedges hiding the view as well as what's around the next corner, it feels as if you are nearing the end of the world and will end up driving straight into the sea.

Finally arriving at this National Trust beauty spot, the only buildings in sight are the little whitewashed 14th century Church of the Holy Cross and, at the far end, above the steps descending to the beach, the small tea kiosk selling the most delectable homemade welshcakes!

We set ourselves the challenge of finding picnic spots with a view, even if it was just from the car, and I think we definitely succeeded with this one, the first picnic of our holiday.

A walk along the beach accompanied by the sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks was exactly what we needed to blow the cobwebs away.

Tuesday was cloudy but mainly dry, so we set off for our first proper walk. The  Marine Walk, a well laid out and picturesque path, starts at Goodwick, from where ferries depart for Rosslare in Ireland.

At the walk's start, there are some beautiful mosaics depicting the town's as well as its neighbour Fishguard's history.

One of the mosaics depicts the French invasion of Fishguard, which took place  in 1797, the so-called Last Invasion, which was defeated by locals. There are stories of the brave resistance of Jemima Nicholas, also known as "Jemima Fawr" (Jemima the Great), single-handedly capturing twelve of the invading soldiers.

As soon as the path started climbing, we were rewarded by spectacular views across the bay to Dinas Head, the dark brooding headland you can see in the distance.

Soon Lower Fishguard came into view. The harbour is famous for being the location of the 1971 film adaptation of Under Milk Wood, starring Richard Burton and Elisabeth Taylor. Earlier, in 1955, Moby Dick, starring Gregory Peck, was also filmed here.

A path zig-zagged down to Lower Fishguard itself, where not only did we find a perfect bench with a view for our picnic, the sun also decided to make a shy appearance.

After arriving back at Goodwick, we walked along the East Breakwater, where we watched a gull catching its evening meal: a rather large and forbidding-looking crab!

By this time, we were getting optimistic about the weather, so on Wednesday we set off for what should have been a spectacularly scenic drive starting from Tregaron in Ceredigion (Cardiganshire). Sadly, it started raining before we even got there and as it didn't look as if it would let up any time soon, we had a rethink on how to spend the rest of our day.

 After we had driven all the way to nearby Lampeter, the sun started coming out, so we drove all the way back again to Tregaron for a visit to Cors Caron nature reserve.

Cors Caron is one of the few remaining examples of a raised peat bog in Britain, bordered by the river Teifi and on the edge of the Cambrian Mountains.

You can walk along a circular boardwalk with spectacular views of the bog. The sun was out for once when we where there, but I can imagine it being very eerie on a dark winter's day.

I hope this has whetted your appetite as in my next travel post, I will be visiting a popular seaside town and pay tribute to a well-known Welsh poet.

Have a wonderful weekend!