Outside and In

Large parts of Britain are being washed away in floods, it seems. But not my bit of it, which is helpfully well above sea-level. Though it has been raining an awful lot, we are warm, safe and dry indoors.

Happiness for some, in fact, is being sandwiched between two furry dog-pillows, on a soft and cosy - ahem - dog-bed.

The days now short on light, it's that time of year when lighted windows exert a kind of fascination, pulling one in to the cosy indoors ... 

... looking out and looking in ...

The last rose is hanging on tenaciously in the garden

alongside frost and autumn's debris

I'm not sure who this colourful chap on the lawn is - a woodpecker?

The last of the lurid yellow that was carpeting the countryside a couple of weeks ago -

is still hanging around in the city - here in Marylebone High Street

and at St Marylebone parish church, its little park with the orange Victorian facade of the Conran shop, decked out for Christmas, lurking behind the trees; gilded angels keeping watch on the dome ...

but in Fleet Street it's all rush and busy-ness 

against a backdrop of stark black branches

A jolly friar overlooks the entrance to The Blackfriar pub, built on the site of a 13th century Dominican friary and saved from demolition by poet laureate John Betjeman who enjoyed a regular pint there

Back home, cat free, the dogs reclaim their bed and work their look of abject melancholy ...

... since HRH is now making it perfectly clear that he has no intention of letting them near the fire

English village autumn

Autumn colour seemed to come late this year, but it hasn't disappointed. 

 saturated colours after heavy rain

My favourite season was on full display on a trip to Penn village in Buckinghamshire about a week ago, where I snapped these pics.

Penn means 'hill' or 'headland' in Brythonic, one of the old Celtic languages, named for its position on a hilltop in the Chilterns. From the tower of the 900-year-old church here on the village road, it's supposedly possible to see eight counties ...

but definitely not on a misty morning like this one

As you might have guessed, Penn village is the birthplace of William Penn who set up the colony of Pennsylvania in the USA. Though originally the Penns are thought to have been Norman French nobility and called de la Penne - settlers who came to England following the Norman Conquest in 1066.

Like many Norman-era churches in England, the list of names of rectors or bishops tell this story by themselves. Earlier rectors of Penn's church had French, or at least Frenchified names, like William de London (1273) and Gilbert de Segrave (1304), up until a few centuries later when these change to solid English names like Thomas Goodlake (1400s) or John Davis (1684).

The Crown pub, above in the morning mist, is first mentioned in written records of the 15th century as a local ale-house.

There are plenty of traditional English cottages to be had, if this lifestyle appeals ...

(though they're likely to set you back a bit: your Rose/Oak/Briar cottages and ye olde vicarages mostly come with a fairly hefty price-tag in this village) ...

... and open gates invite you to country trails across surrounding farmland ...

Thanks to the "right to roam" law, there is a public right to access to farmland in Britain.

Veer off the main village road and you'll find yourself in narrow lanes like these ...

where it's difficult to imagine  

what might happen if another car came in the opposite direction

yet amazingly it is possible for two cars to squeeze past - in fact it's an opportunity to stop for a chat ...

Right next-door to Penn is Tylers Green ... 

which for all its small size, checks off all the mandatory features of an English village - a church, a pub, and a village school  - all positioned round the village green ...

... site of cricket games and village fetes in summer and bonfires on Guy Fawkes night, but where in the damp mist and November chill, small girls let out from school were chasing ducks

who thought the weather just fine.

Blog love: Lisbon diaries

For this month's international blog post we're asked to highlight someone else's blog that we've found inspirational.
Perhaps not well known among English language readers, Diário de Lisboa/The Lisbon Diaries has been an addiction for me since I first discovered it a little over a year ago.

                                              The old tram on Calçada de Gloria

Photographer Artur Lourenço captures inspired images from his city almost daily ... often of people who catch his attention in the streets, but also of places he loves ...

 Xocoa, Baixa-Chiado

It's these and his eye for detail, for snatching the moment, that I admire so much.

                                         Jardim da Rocha do Conde de Óbidos, Rua das Janelas Verdes

Lisbon's old, eccentric, or creative shops are one of his favourite themes ...

Magical creations at Storytailors, Chiado

Barbearia Campos, Chiado - 125 year old barber's shop

Chapelaria Azevedo Rua, Rossio - hat-makers since 1886

Luvaria Ulisses, Rua do Carmo - the tiniest shop (3 ft by 3 ft), devoted exclusively to exquisite hand-made gloves.

Amélie au Théatre, vintage clothes shop, Principe Real

His images seem to get right to the heart and soul of Lisbon ...

Lisbon instagrams by Diário de Lisboa

'Sit down and tell me your stories of love'

And he does for Lisbon coffee houses the sort of magic that Merisi weaves for coffee drinking in Vienna

Pasteis de nata at Pastelaria de Belém

Kaffeehaus, Rua Anchieta, Chiado

Taberna Lx Factory restaurant, Alcântara

Photographic artist, Lisbon-lover, poet with images, I'm in love with Lisboadiarios.

Druids and ancient beeches

Druids and Celtic rites, highwaymen and secrets of World War II featured in the latest hike with my newly-joined walking group ...

Burnham Beeches is 540 acres of ancient woodland on the border of Buckinghamshire and Berkshire that was rescued from developers by the City of London.

These woods used to be vast, covering virtually the whole of the county of Buckinghamshire. Their history stretches the mind quite breathtakingly to way before Roman times. Below are the remains of a fort which has been dated to the late Bronze Age or early Iron Age (somewhere between the 8th and 5th century BC). What you can see  here is the remnants of a moat that surrounded it ...

Unfortunately much of the remains were damaged during World War II when Burnham Beeches was used as an army vehicle depot - a perfect hiding spot under cover of dense woods. Top secret, its existence was whispered about in local villages after schoolboys in search of adventure crept through barriers to spy on the hidden camp.

Its shining moment came when more than 10 000 army vehicles were marshalled and prepared here for the D-Day landings and driven out of these woods in convoy at night, headed for the coast.

The oldest living tree in Burnham Beeches is the 'Druid tree' - not a beech, but an oak - thought to be between 800 to 1000 years old. Its trunk is completely hollow, making it rather fragile - hence the protective fence ...

It was named (and pollarded) by the Victorians because the ancient Druids are said (by Pliny the Elder, who may or may not have got his facts straight on this - see here) to have considered oak trees sacred and danced around them in moonlit ceremonies.

In the Middle Ages the woods were a mad, bad and dangerous place, being inundated with highwaymen. Today, with Pinewood Studios located conveniently close by, they are a favourite location shoot for films, from early James Bond to Harry Potter. They've stood in as Camelot for First Knight, a generic ancient England for Ivanhoe, Irish woodland for The Crying Game, and of course Sherwood Forest for Robin Hood.

Our own merry band included hiking veteran border collie, aka Alpha lead dog, a trusty Beagle as her deputy, and a rather cute, pampered poodle who, if she felt a trifle silly being carried in a handbag for most of the walk, didn't show it ...

 Keep up, people ...

This hike was scheduled for a time of year (two weeks ago) when the woods are normally blazing with autumn colours - but as you can see, they were still overwhelmingly green, as the trees have turned very late this year.

On the trail leading out of the woods (with Princess Poodle still being carried) ...

we came back full circle through adjacent farmland

and ended, as English rambles must by tradition, with victuals at a local pub ... was it going to be the Blackwood Arms or the Jolly Woodman?