A June day started with a rush to the community garden: the rain had stopped, the forecast was dire (sunshine rest of week and even heat wave) the imperative to get the squash in the ground governed. They had been waiting for 3 days which were spent dallying in Socratic Dialogue in the woods. The water was heavy to lift, the body not strong, the regret not going to the gym or playing tennis arrose. But the squash planted, along with some bush tomatoes, given to us by Janine, from Wakelyns. I like this connection. Two events happened as I was planting.
Geoff walked by with his dog. When I asked How is Alison, he did not respond, searching for the words. ‘It’s a terrible disease. She’s in hospital with an infection but they are sending her back today, but I cannot cope. Nor can the carers. Oh yes, she knows exactly what’s going on. The shame of it she cannot even look forward to eating – she has a tube into her stomach.’ Mascular Degeneration.
Another came by telling me how his son has been advising Government how to integrate nature in to the curriculum, and the directorate has just been passed. Is this a secret success of our beleagured labour government I wonder? (As Kier Starmer struggles with increasing unpopularity, his defence minister the latest to resign)
Finally Johnny called to say, could he submit the 3 minute film he’d made of kaliwood, land kids and me to Suffolk Shorts. A nice Bill Jackson connection.
Naturally we were a bit late for a full day planned, Rupert and I. First to Lil, who had some plants for me from her wonderful fecund garden. I was completely bown away by the sandy bank of vipers bugloss. She spoke of how seed spread from one part of her garden to another, and the amazement at finding new colonies of wild flowers emerging in different places. She is inspiring. We exchanged our news (Coppice network, Greenprint) and she gave me a load of work to do – which I have today to plant out when I finish this.
Next to Edge, a new Ringsfield restaurant on our way back. It was very pleasent, with welcoming staff, and the beginning of our focaccia day, as we shared an italian focaccia to sample their menu.
A bit tight on time (delivered the plants back to the wood – where children shouted out ‘Rachel’ and the dogs escaped) we motored down the A12, over the sizewell roundabouts, and arrived with a few minutes to spare for the Aldeburgh Festival Maxwell Quartet playing Prokofiev and Brahms and a UK Premier by Alberga, who was in the audience and seemed delighted, when she came to take her bow. Packed it was, and hot, and both of us had a short nap in parts, but the music was uplifting, plucky, meandering like a river, smooth mesmeric then over some rocks, and bashing the sides, before opening out to the sea. Esther, from Elders was the Usher there, and the only person I recognised.
After a relativly short dog walk along Snape footpath, potatoes growing in the sand soil, the familiar naked and dead tree stunning against the sky, we motored to Aldeburgh to find the Suffolk. But first an exhibition of a private collection including a Tessa Newcombe, Barbara Hepworth, Duncan Grant, was a surprise.
Indeed the Suffolk was the place where some years ago Rupert, as a master of wine, had advised on wine to accompany the food, when his once friend, Andrew, had he supposed owned it. I say supposed, as he discovered this time he had never owned it.
Guilla, who I’d met last year, sister of Todd (Landor) had arrived for her week in Aldeburgh, staying in a successful house exchange (she lives outside Rome). We met. Elegant and delightful, she was, and we sat outside the Suffolk with white wine, olives and – yes Focaccia, finding our connecting points and enjoying each others company. It felt like a fitting and fine ending to a day.
Kalikellett 