In my life as a journalist in regional Australia, one of my favourite parts of the job was exploring and getting to know the towns that made up my ‘patch’. In most places I knew where the cleanest public loos were (vital when you’re on the road!), which cafe/bakery to stop at and the best route to follow to catch glimpses of favourite houses/gardens/parks.
Now that I’m getting to know the west Midlands, I’m finding myself doing the same thing here in England. Earlier this week I had to drive up to near Kidderminster for a meeting. I took the opportunity to pop into nearby Ombersley – a gorgeous historic village Adam and I visited briefly during our first few weeks in the U.K.
A few weeks ago during a bout of absolutely gorgeous spring weather (read more here!) Adam and I got invited to our first barbecue of the year.
It was in the nearby village of Welland, just outside of Malvern. It normally only takes us 10 minutes or so to drive to Welland from the house Adam and I live in, so instead of taking the car we decided we’d make use of the local public footpath network and walk.
After months of patiently waiting and a few false alarms, I can now accurately report the annual bluebell show has started here in Malvern.
I saw my first glimpse of bluebells en masse over the Easter long weekend when Adam and I went camping in the Cotswolds. It was a pretty magical sight – a sea of tiny purple-blue flowers under a canopy of the sweetest smelling pine trees.
The day after we arrived home, Adam and I took to the Malvern Hills to see if a similar sprouting of wildflowers had occurred. We were in luck.
I love being outdoors but until I met Adam, camping was never really something I did. My mum loves a clean bathroom, comfortable bed and warm shower, so growing up the closest I ever got to ‘roughing it’ was staying in a self contained cabin in a national park!
When Adam suggested we camp over the Easter long weekend with a group of friends I was excited for the experience but also a little worried about how I would handle it all. Adam’s family have a long history of camping holidays and when we arrived back in England there were boxes of his own equipment, plus countless other relatives we could call on for a loan of gear. We took advantage of their generosity and on Good Friday packed up and drove to Thistledown Farm, a camping ground in the neighbouring county of Gloucestershire.
Last Christmas Adam’s brother John and his partner Sally gave me the book ‘102 English Things To Do’ by Alex Quick. I had a lovely scan through it in the days after Christmas, but never really got stuck into reading it properly.
I’ve now had the opportunity to look it more thoroughly and have started making a list of some of the ‘things’ I’d like to do, particularly over the next few months.
England has been well and truly blessed with some beautiful spring weather over the last week. This weekend just gone has been the warmest of the year so far and I’m looking forward to sharing what I got up to soon. Today though is all about my first trip to the ‘seaside’.
Last week Adam and I jumped in the car and drove down to the Gower Peninsula in Wales. Adam described the region to me as the ‘Riviera of the U.K.’, a place where there were beautiful beaches and charming villages.
I could tell yesterday was going to be a good day, even before I got out of bed. There was a bright glint creeping in behind the closed curtains and the birds outside were chirping their happy little songs.
The morning was cool and clear and beams of sunlight were falling in just the right places, giving the landscape outside of the windows that magical warm weather feel. Adam and I had decided a few days earlier we’d go for a lovely long walk on Sunday, and it was like Mother Nature was rewarding us for our decision.
The northern hemisphere has now officially entered spring. I’m welcoming it with eager anticipation after virtually doing two winters back to back. While Malvern hasn’t had a terribly brutal winter, our one in Wagga Wagga was wet and grey, so it feels like there hasn’t been much variation in the weather in the last six months. Doing two cold seasons consecutively though does makes you appreciate the hints nature gives, which shows the chill is almost over.
On Friday Adam and I woke up to the most brilliant sunshine. We’d both been under the weather for a few weeks with winter coughs and sniffles and by chance we also both had the day off work. Adam suggested we get in the car, go for a drive and make use of our National Trust membership.
A little over an hour later we found ourselves in south Wales at Tredegar House just outside of Newport. The property belonged to the Morgan family for around 500 years and is set in beautiful parkland just off the M4 motorway.
When I worked as a journalist in south-western New South Wales one of my favourite things to do while driving long, straight roads for hours at a time was to look out for the names of farms. The name seemed to the give the property a personality and I liked the concept of the land almost becoming a member of the family.
A festive property sign west of Hay, NSW, Australia.
What I’ve found in England and particularly Malvern, is that names aren’t just reserved for farms. Many suburban houses have names, often dating back centuries. Houses are sometimes named after the family that originally lived in the home or the surrounding landscape. I also love that mail is addressed to the house name. It isn’t 16 Smith Street, rather ‘Valley View Cottage’, 16 Smith Street. Perhaps it’s the daydreamer in me, but I just think that’s utterly delightful.
There are so many different types of name plaques too: painted ceramic slabs adorning house fronts, wrought iron signs on gates, wooden plaques, sandstone etchings or sometimes the name’s just simply painted on the side of the house.
I’ve always wanted to live in a house that has a name. The house Adam and I are living in does – so it’s a bit of a dream come true! Our downstairs neighbours even have a beautifully painted watercolour of the original house before it was split into three separate apartments.
I’ve been lucky enough to do a bit of travel, but I must admit I’ve never really noticed en masse houses with names anywhere except the U.K. Does your house have a name? What is it, and do you know the story behind it?!
Wattle and Ash 