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.

Great big sky down to the ground

If it weren't for the numerous photographs I've taken, our holiday would be just a distant, if pleasurable, memory by now. In the olden days of analogue photography, I might still be waiting impatiently for the rolls of film to be developed, all but snatching the envelopes of prints out of the shop assistant's hands once they were ready. Instead, digital photography provides instant gratification, significantly increasing the number of photographs taken at the same time.  I have no qualms admitting that I took about 570 of them in the six days that we were away. 

And so it is that just one week after our return, I can relive the joys of the second full day of our holiday week, Tuesday the 1st of September. Are you joining me?

We woke up to a slightly cloudy morning, but the growing patches of blue held the promise of a beautiful day. The morning's goose-bumpy chilliness, combined with the weather forecast for the day, predicting highs of just 18°C, made me grab for this short-sleeved knit jumper to wear with my wide-legged trousers.

If you look carefully, you can see a certain woolly-coated creature roaming in the garden on my left. It's one of the two resident sheep, roped in to act as living lawn mowers. They often come right up to the owner's house which lies behind our tiny temporary one, hoping for a carroty treat.

I've had the vintage chevron patterned jumper - a Think Twice find - for well over a year. Nevertheless, this was only its first wear.  It originally plunged a bit too deeply for my liking, which was easily remedied with a couple of stitches. The thing that really bothered me, though, was its collar, the points of which were fastened to the jumper's shoulders, making it stand up in a funny and rather awkward way. As I couldn't get it to look right, I thought I'd try to carefully remove the stitches. This is when I found out there weren't any and that the points were pinned down with two small safety pins instead. How did I never notice this?

The label says Carol Caroline, for which I found a couple of 1970s references online, although its batwing sleeves makes me suspect the jumper might be early 1980s. Whatever the case, its muted colour palette of greys, peachy pink and sage green matched my trouser's print perfectly. 

The trousers are New Look by way of a Shropshire charity shop last Summer. From my temporary capsule of accessories, I chose a burnt orange necklace and an enameled brooch featuring an orange, yellow, purple and green floral design on a fudgy background.

Our choice of walk for the day took us to the village of Lampernisse, just over half an hour's drive from our cottage. This sleepy backwater, which has a population of about 200, is classified as a so-called Charming Village.

There are fifteen of these in the Westhoek region (as this Western part of Belgium is called), elevated to their special status due to their unique architecture, heritage, location and couleur locale.

Lampernisse is justifiably known as the quietest village in the region, while its other claim to fame is its location amid the wetlands of Lampernisse, a conservation area of special scientific interest, which has been under protection since 1993.

In the weeks before our trip, I'd printed the 6,5 kilometer Zannekin walk, which starts at the village church, from the official nature agency website. Only a matter of days later Jos told me he'd found a great walk in one of our books. Turned out they were one and the same, which seemed the be reason enough for it to go straight on our must-do list.

Again, the route was way-marked, but unlike the previous day's walk, we soon found the first of the official hexagonal signs just outside the churchyard. 

The Zannekin street swiftly took us to the outskirts of the tiny hamlet, past the last of its rural cottages and crumbling farm buildings, until we came across a blue doored chapel. Officially the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwkapel (Chapel of Our Lady), it is colloquially known as the Keunekapel (transl. Bunny chapel) as this is where local farmers came to pray for the protection of their rabbits against myxomatosis.

From the chapel, the Zannekin walk - named after a 14th century Flemish freedom fighter - took us along a narrow tarmacked lane meandering through the wetlands of Lampernisse. Courtesy of the dry Spring and hot Summer, the water level in the ditches at both sides of the lane seemed to be alarmingly low. I'm sure it would be quite a different story after a period of heavy rains.

Swathes of chamomile were prominent among the wildflowers lining the road, while the chattering of meadow birds well hidden in the undergrowth accompanied us. In a distant field, white herons outnumbered the cows. We counted at least twenty of them, but alas they were too far away to catch them on camera.

The landscape surrounding us was flat as a pancake, with the great big sky down to the ground.

This is one of the widest stretches of continuous open space in Flanders, the odd farm building and the distant view of Lampernisse's church tower and red tiled roofs the only signs of human habitation. 

With no conveniently placed benches to have our picnic, we sat down on a stone parapet where the lane bridged one of the brooks which intersect the rich meadows and fertile fields.

We didn't see a soul except for two pairs of fellow walkers who overtook us while we were eating our sandwiches. The cows in the field across hardly gave us the time of day and continued the eternal process of grazing and chewing the cud.

The sun kept playing hide-and-seek with the clouds, and I was grateful for my old and faithful green raincoat and the scarf I'd added at the last minute.

We walked along a succession of natural pools, creeks and ridges before reaching the Lesser IJzer, a small and gently flowing stream on the boundary between the villages of Lampernisse and Alveringem.

It's as if time has stood still here, with the past a very tangible given and the thought of a global pandemic an unimaginable future. 

Many of the fields you come across here are ancient hay meadows and pastures which have never been ploughed. The farm in the bend of the road looked like a relic from a bygone age too, with its weedy farmyard and peeling paint. You'd be forgiven for thinking it was abandoned, if the sounds of the Tour de France coverage hadn't seeped through its net-curtained windows.

Nature is showing its true colours here too. They're no denying we're on the slippery slope to Autumn. 

Berries and seed heads were a feast for the eye, while the discovery of a single clump of Autumn crocuses made me squeal with delight.

The final stretch of our walk took us through meadows where sheep were eyeing us wearily from its furthest corners. Here, we had to climb a barrier bisecting the little wooded bridge, which acted as a cattle grid. More climbing was required where the meadow ended just before reaching another narrow tarmacked road.

A band of steel grey clouds pregnant with rain seemed to be moving towards us, so we quickened our step in the direction of Lampernisse's church spire which was luring us around a bend.

With one final backward glance, we bade the painterly landscape goodbye, pleased to see that the rain clouds were speeding off elsewhere, drawing their black curtains to once again reveal a blue and white rippled sky.

Back at the cottage, we had supper - we didn't go out to eat at all, preferring to prepare some easy meals in the safety of our home - and spent the evening reading, watching television and making plans for the next day.

That is, when we were not diverted by the ever-enchanting view across the lake. Both sheep regaled us with their presence, while the small grey tabby who sat staring at us turned out not to be the owner's, but a visiting cat.

The last rays of the sun dipped the tops of the hop poles in the distance in liquid gold.

And so, another day had come and gone, and gold-rimmed memories had been made, well preserved by photographs and my daily journal entry 

I hope you are all doing well and staying safe, and that you will be joining me for another episode of my travelogue soon.

The Great Escape

Hello! Remember me? 

It feels as if it was light years ago since my last post when, in fact, it was less than two weeks! But surely that's a good thing, as it means that I was able to get away from it all and leave at least some of my worries behind.

As holidays are wont to do, ours was over in the blink of an eye. Strangely enough, even though the time seems to have passed quickly, the slower pace at which we lived makes it seem as if we were away for more than just the one week. I'm finding it hard to re-adjust to what for want of a better word I'm calling my normal life, which once again involves alarm clocks and deadlines, even if they still only have to be faced two days a week.

As I'd already hinted in my previous post, the week before our holiday was a hectic one.  Involving three rather than my usual two office days, as well as a visit to the hairdresser, not to mention the dreaded packing, there was hardly any time for outfit photos, which we only managed on Tuesday.

The midi length dress I was wearing, with its striking red and black chevron pattern, is from Dutch fashion label Mexx, picked up for € 4 in a charity shop two years ago. My accessories were a hessian belt, a vintage celluloid flower brooch and a multicoloured necklace from Accessorize, bought when many moons ago they used to have a shop in Antwerp.

I was despairing about having to leave the garden behind, especially our hanging baskets and patio pots, which would have to fend for themselves while we were away.

But then I was greatly cheered up by the arrival of the postman with a package which came all the way from the UK. 

When out charity shopping, the lovely Gisela from Miss Magpie's Musings, happened upon this long-sleeved and pleated vintage dress, which made her think of me. Its pattern is tiny white and yellow dots, and it came with a self-fabric belt, which for a couple of quick shots I replaced with a yellow one. Expect to see more of it this Winter!

Gisela's package also included a pretty Scottie dog print scarf, three necklaces and a brooch. What a heartwarming surprise!

Saturday was spent packing - which went smoothly, as I'd already done it all in my head - and then, finally, Sunday dawned. On a dull, cloudy day, but never mind that. 

On a wing and a prayer, I gave all the pots and baskets a good drenching and then we bade Phoebe goodbye, setting off in a Westerly direction just after midday.

The rain, which had been threatening all morning, arrived in a torrent when we were on the motorway. Fortunately, gaps had appeared in the grey blanket of clouds by the time we reached our destination less than two hours later.

Following all the tight-rope walking and uncertainty of the last five and a half months - not to mention the heart-wrenching cancellation of two holidays - it felt wonderful if slightly unreal to have made it here.

After eight previous visits, the little wooden and thatched studio cottage at Marjolein guesthouse can truly be called a home away from home. Much better than home, actually, as it's so peaceful and quiet.

And then there's the view, which is unsurpassable, with the hop fields across the road at the front and the domain's lake backed by the West-Flemish hills at the side.

The weather forecast had promised us mainly dry but reasonably chilly weather for the week, and as we'd planned to do lots of walking, I'd packed several pairs of trousers.

My travel outfit, however, was one of my Diolen delights, in Autumnal shades on a deep purple background. To combat the chill, I added an orange cardigan. The ochre yellow of the print was my guideline for my belt and beaded necklace, while my brooch loosely referred to most of the dress's colours.

There was no need to leave our little haven again that day, as we'd brought all the ingredients for our evening meal - a salad - as well as breakfast on Monday.

Even doing the dishes was relaxing and it was easy to forget there's a pandemic out there. That's if you don't look too closely at the marks at the bottom of the plates! Arrgh, there's just no escaping it! 

On Monday morning after breakfast, we consulted Jos's weather app, which told us that there might be some light rain late morning, but that there was a 100% chance of rain in the afternoon.

So, instead of our original plan, which was to do a food shop first and then go for a walk, we switched things around and set off for some nearby woods in the morning.

The Sixtusbossen (or Sixtus woods) are a 300 hectares complex of woods, which is cared for by Natuurpunt, the largest Belgian nature conservation organization.

The walk we'd intended to do was supposed to be way-marked, but if it is, we never found any signs, so we just made up our own walk using a walking map of the area.

We'd hardly made a start when some light rain began to fall, so we waited it out in a small clearing surrounded by tree trunks bearing some exquisite carvings of woodland fauna and flora. The rain lasted less than five minutes, so soon we were able to continue our walk.

There were surprises around every corner, including a Madonna statue in an ivy clad tree hollow, a makeshift musical instrument and a sad looking green man with the sharpest of teeth. Ouch!

And what about a giant swing set in the middle of the woods? It had been absolutely ages since either of us had been on a swing and we paused here for a while, reliving long-forgotten childhood moments  by swinging blissfully to and fro.

Our partially self-designed walk meandered through a quilt of woods, meadows and fields heavy with crops, with the scent of approaching Autumn tickling our nostrils.

Then, a bittersweet surprise awaited us at the end of a track: Dozinghem Military Cemetery. 

In preparation for the Third Battle of Ypres in 1917, the British army set up a number of extra field hospitals behind the lines. There were three such hospitals in this area, and the soldiers who died of their wounds were buried here. The place Dozinghem does not actually exist. It is the name given to one of the casualty clearing stations by the troops, the others being called Mendinghem and Bandaghem.

Gem or Ghem is a common suffix in Flemish towns and villages, corresponding to the English gham or ham (as in Birmingham), so naming the hospitals after the verbs "to doze", "to mend" and "to bandage" certainly shows that the British troops did not loose their sense of humour, even during the atrocities of war.

After a spot of lunch sitting on a bench just outside the cemetery, we continued our walk, past trees and shrubs laden with Autumn berries, lethal looking fungi, and the ruins of a spaceship, until eventually we arrived back at our car.

Too early to call it a day, we decided to visit the sleepy village of Westvleteren, its claim to fame being the Abbey of St. Sixtus and, more to the point, its brewery.

Here, the monks of  St. Sixtus have been financing their livelihood and the maintenance of the monastery by brewing the much sought-after Westvleteren Trappist beer since 1839, when the abbey received a brewer’s licence signed by king Leopold I.

The monks only sell to private customers and the famous beers can only be purchased through the webshop and  picked up at the sales centre located at the abbey at certain times.

As we do not drink alcohol, it was obvious we weren't there for the beers! 

While St. Sixtus Abbey might be a pilgrimage site for beer aficionados the world over, we took a little pilgrimage of our own, by walking along the tree-lined lane at the right of the abbey towards the Lourdes grotto. 

Apparently, the shrine was built in 1921 out of gratitude that the abbey and its inhabitants were spared destruction and death during the First World War.

Appreciative of all things kitsch, we can never resist visiting these shrines, and usually spend a little money to burn a candle too. Ours is the one in the middle, which was supposed to burn for two days.

On a wing and a prayer and a burning candle ...

Apart from a grandma and her three grandchildren, who were playfully noisy in spite of the sign to be quiet, there was nobody around, so we sat down on one of the benches to have an afternoon snack. 

Then it was back to our car for that dreaded food shop. Back to reality, face masks and ... the silliness of ultraviolet disinfection of supermarket trolleys!

Typically, it didn't rain at all in the afternoon. In fact, the day had turned out to be quite sunny, so back at the cottage I exchanged my green trousers for one of the skirts I'd packed just in case. 

The floral blouse was a charity shop find back in February 2019. You've seen it before, but here's a close-up of the print to jog your memory.

So, that was it for now. I'll be sharing more walking adventures in my next post.

In the meantime, as always, stay safe, sane and positive!