Serendipity

Trying to plan an itinerary for a Saturday outing in the Gaillac area, I came across the Château-Musée du Cayla. I’d spotted signs in passing on holidays in past years but never taken the plunge to visit.

On looking it up, it is a writers’ museum, the former home of Maurice (1810-1839) and Eugénie de Guérin (1805-1848), a brother and sister who were both writers, Maurice becoming a Romantic poet. 

Given that these both fell into a distinct gap, or fair to say, chasm, in my education, a lack of enthusiasm for Romanticism and Stewart’s lack of French, I wasn’t sure how interesting a stop it would be but it had one huge and rare advantage – it was open throughout lunchtime!

We wiggled our way to the site near Andillac and up to the parking at the top of an excitingly serpentine & unhelpfully gravelly drive as my knee was not going to cope with the walk up plus the anticipated steps in the Château. We were helpfully waved in by a young man who copped me wimping on the last gravelly and precipitous turn, even with 4wd!

The first set of images and quotes from Eugénie’s letters & journals next to the reception all focused on garden produce and foods, so that was promising!

A pleasant young man at reception apologised that he couldn’t offer the tour in English and as we were the only customers, was quite happy to adapt the tour to our limited mobility if need arose. He also kindly grabbed a couple of folding stools and brought them along for us or advised where we were allowed to perch while he spoke.

The house is not huge, a ‘gentleman’s residence’ dating back to 1452, now set in 27 ha of grounds. The Guérin family married into the estate in the 16th century. As was usual, the estate was pretty self-sufficient, surrounded by agricultural land that produced much of what they needed, whether food, meat, wood or textiles.

Our guide told the story of the family very engagingly and we were well invested in them.  Their mother died young and Eugénie took Maurice very much under her wing. She and sister Marie were allowed to attend the lessons given to brothers Rambert and Maurice, the latter being a gifted linguist and student, going to Toulouse aged 12 to study for the priesthood, thence to Paris where he decided he wanted to write and persuaded a friend to tell his father!

I won’t reveal all, but will say that the prodigy Maurice’s innovative prose poem The Centaur and his other writings did not bring him instant success.  Eugénie corresponded with him and their letters survived.

Maurice contracted TB and returned home not long before his 29th birthday to be lovingly tended by Eugénie for a couple of weeks until he passed away.

His sister continued the journal she had kept, leaving instructions to destroy it on her death, and lived on in the family house. Sadly she only survived him by 9 years.

Friends promoted Maurice’s work after their deaths and he was championed by George Sand. Their sister Marie was approached with a request to publish Maurice’s work and Eugénie’s letters; Marie agreed and decided Eugénie’s journal should also be published. Both gained posthumous fame.

The house is presented generally as it would have been in their day, with some artistic installations enlivening the setting.

It was a pleasure to ‘meet’ them and share a little of their lives. I think our favourite room was the cabinet of curiosities we were left to explore at the end.

The grounds are extensive and various walks are marked; it’s a wonderful setting for a charming little gem.

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Changes

We meandered towards Gaillac this morning and visited the Château de Mayragues for a brief wine tasting and a few bottles to take home. The 12th-century château-fort has been restored from a ruin: the owners bought the vineyard and its noble ruins in 1980 and have undertaken a labour of love in renovating the house (& fine pigeonnier) and effectively restarting the 13ha vineyard in many more hectares of estate. Work continues with new developments in the winery barn, an imposing building in itself. There are a couple of chambres d’hôtes, which we’d not realised.

The owner proffered tastings of all the wines including a dessert wine and a double-distilled spirit which I will try another time, I hope. I tasted (and bought) the only current dry white, in part as it was a very local variety, Loin de L’Oeil or as it’s marketed, Len de L’El (Occitan). Apparently it’s so called as the bunches hang high on the vine – far from the eye. It’s distinctive, dry and floral; a taste of summer.

A still and a sparkling rosé (Duras) were both very pleasant though I didn’t find them as distinctive, being perhaps too eager to try the reds!

The first of the reds, a 2023 mixed grape vintage from the survivors of a late (April) frost which seems to be becoming a regular feature, was then a perhaps serendipitous outcome with plenty of flavour, though the lightest of the 3 on offer. We enjoyed it and it was good to try a straight Duras as well after a longish gap but were in the end persuaded by the Les Mages, a Braucol & Cabernet Sauvignon combo from 20-year-old vines; rich, complex and flavourful. Come home with me, Les Mages!

The vineyard has clearly changed under these owners, who produce more varieties with smaller vats than were there originally. They have adapted to the late frosts of recent years and are looking at older varieties again to withstand both frosts and hotter, drier summers. The harvest is a month earlier than it used to be.

Madame said ‘We know we’ve had hot summers in the region before and come through’. I thought she was about to mention the mid-1970s, but she continued, ‘The 1500s were really hot.’ Clearly they really do learn from the past as well as making changes!

When we quaff these few bottles with friends & family in coming weeks, we shall enjoy the memory of the beautifully restored château-fort, a sunny July outing, an errant bluetit flying into the ‘chai’ to join the tasting (and fortunately find the opened window to depart without incident or injury) and the pleasant chat about the many vagaries of vineyards.

Merci à Mayragues.

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Blooming

Our friend Colin’s garden in Saint-Grat is blooming and colourful. The weather cooperates with timely if not entirely welcome rain. Shirley’s lilies are on their way to their full glories….

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Aquilegia

In our very wet garden today.

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Spring

Spring promises
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Snapshot memories

Young man in fliying gear standing in front of a biplane.

My much-loved late uncle, Nigel, had this treasured but rather battered photograph that he was rightly proud of and which we were pleased to be able to digitally restore for him some years ago.

It shows him at RAF Digby, in Lincolnshire, one of our oldest RAF stations, in October 1952. Flying was stopped there in January 1953, so he must have been in one of the last trainee contingents through there.

I should have dug out more information at the time but Wikipedia added to my very limited knowledge of the base:- “Following the end of World War II Digby increasingly took on a non-flying role for RAF Technical Training Command. … Between 1948 and 1950 Digby also became home to the No.1 Initial Officer Training unit, the Aircrew Education Unit, the Aircrew Transit Unit and the Instructional Leadership Course. In 1951 No. 2 Aircrew Grading School for both potential pilots and ancillary aircrew was established at Digby using a wide range of elderly aircraft.” I think the Tiger Moth certainly qualified for the ‘elderly’ category!

I just thought I’d take the opportunity to share what was clearly a happy moment for him on this, his birthday.

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‘Doing their bit’

Newspaper cutting:  image of volunteers (appeal committee) and Arnold Moore, Chairman of Bradford's  War on Cancer, with The Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress of Bradford, Coun. & Mrs Danny Coughlin. Launch of Lord Mayor's appeal.

I found this little cutting stashed away in some files I was sorting: I must have seen and labelled it after mum died. It’s probably from the Bradford Telegraph and Argus.

A quick search showed that Cllr. Coughlin served in 1981-2 so I’ve pinned the date down thus far. Mum had been diagnosed with cancer so it was a cause close to home in every way, which she supported. Dad did volunteer work with them until he died suddenly in 1984. The War on Cancer charity merged with the then Cancer Research Campaign in 1999, I think, then came under the umbrella of Cancer Research UK.

It’s not an earth-shattering piece of news or ephemera, but I thought it deserved to see the light of day 40-odd years on as a thanks to all the good souls who put time and energy into improving the treatment of cancer patients and enabling more research.

Arnold Moore, the Chairman, set up the charity in 1975 after his wife’s death from cancer. He died in 2010 having helped raise millions for the cause, aided by the many hard-working volunteers and helpers, some of whom are pictured here. It struck me that most of them probably underestimated the sheer power of ‘doing their bit’.

In the difficult times we find ourselves in today, it’s also a salutory reminder that there are still so many good and generous people out there ‘doing their bit’ in the medical field and in so many others, and who also probably don’t realise how those ‘bits’ all add up to make a real difference.

It’s important, too, in that it gives hope to those of us who sometimes despair at so much of the awful news – and people – we see around us. It is good and healing for the soul to see, appreciate and celebrate those (volunteers and workers alike) who choose to go out of their way to help others and strive to make their corner of the world a bit brighter and better.

Thank you, each and every one.

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Great-aunt Lillian

I knew little about my great-aunt Lillian, born 140 years ago today, and to be honest, still don’t really know anything beyond the bare research, which underlines the need to talk to family about family, and more importantly, to listen when they talk!

I recall my dad and mum kept in touch with Lillian’s daughter Barbara over the years, though mainly via the Christmas card letter as I don’t recall ever meeting her. My dad would talk fondly of Barbara, who was effectively a generation older than he and had lived away from the Halifax area all her life.

Lillian was born on 1 December 1883 to Rachel (née Heptinstall) and James Normington Mills, a plumber and glazier. Lillian had 7 older sisters and an older brother, Edgar (another brother, Thomas, had died as an infant in 1871.) She would be joined by two more, younger sisters in the next 5 years, Annie Beatrice (known as Beattie, I think) and Amy Florence, my grandmother. The family was living at 36 Gibbet St, Halifax at this time. The house has gone but here’s number 38.

A Victorian-story town house next to a modern commercial building.
38 Gibbet Street. (Google Street View). In 1881 the Mills family lived next door at 36. The family here was the well-known Pohlmann family, Henrietta (annuitant, 52) and son George, 21, piano manufacturer. The family had a long history of manufacture; they stopped in 1934 and their design rights went to the Daneman firm.

It seems the house might have been a victim of James’ bankruptcy in early summer 1883. By 1891 the family has moved to 63 North Parade. Lillian’s 4 eldest sisters are all in various sewing jobs – dressmaker, tailoress and two sewing machinists – a genetic talent I seem to have missed out on!

1901 sees Lillian and 5 sisters at 14 Villiers Street. Lillian has bucked the sewing trend and is a cashier among the remaining carpet-sewers or winders and undie-stitchers.

On 18 December 1904 Lillian marries newsagent James Butterworth Blackett in Halifax. There is an announcement on p8 of the Halifax Guardian on 24 December. Their first child, Herbert, is born in 1905.

Less happily, on 6th March 1906 Lillian’s mum Rachel has a operation for gallstones. Sadly, she died on 15th March, aged 59, with cause of death given as cholelithisasis exhaustion following the operation.

Lillian and James’ second child, Barbara, arrives on 5 December 1909 and both children are christened on 16 January 1910 at St Mary’s, Halifax. Lillian’s family are living at 7 Villiers Street, (just down the road from her parental home at no 14) and they are still there in the 1911 census. Two more sons, Norman and Laurence arrive in 1911 and 1915.


Alexander P Kapp / St Mary’s Catholic Church, Halifax By Alexander P Kapp, CC BY-SA 2.0, Link

The family has moved to Chester by 1921 and James is now a foreman working for W H Smith (Liverpool) . At least one more move takes them to 31 Hillcrest Avenue in Northampton, by this time, just James, Lillian and Barbara. James is a branch manager and Lillian listed in the usual format ‘Domestic duties’. Barbara is a clerk.

Lillian lives long enough to see peace return, but dies at home in Northampton on 20 December, 1945, survived by James (d.1959).

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Turn of the season – random snippets

The clocks go back tonight. This always brings to mind a surreal conversation years ago with my mother-in-law & her sister, as we drove them back home.

My m-i-l was watching a flock of birds flying overhead on their way to roost, which prompted this comment from her “Oh, the clocks go back tonight, don’t they? That must really confuse the birds – how do they manage?”

My husband managed to muffle a snort of laughter and as her comment sank in, I was close to biting the steering wheel whilst trying to think of how to respond when, as I thought, Aunty Lyd,  ‘the sensible one’ (or so we assumed) saved us by exclaiming “Oh, don’t be silly, Gwen!”. 

“Ah”, I mused, “a bit harsh perhaps, but Lyd’ll set her straight.”

“No, Gwen” continued Lyd, with great assurance, “you’ll see, they’ll get used to it in a few days!”
I don’t think husband or I were capable of coherent speech for the rest of the journey!

Today produced a couple of rather different memorable moments. We popped to a local gallery at Bevere to see a friend on her first day in her new studio at the Yew Trees Artist Studios there. Karen does beautiful and innovative fused glass work and we wish her every success with it. One of her lovely Kandinsky-ish pieces has been on the wall beside me for a while now and continues to delight. 

The other memorable aspect was just the sheer pleasure of the emerging autumn colours as we pottered locally on the way there and back. For once, I just absorbed them rather than taking pictures. I’ll need to summon up that internal autumnal glow to see me through the coming winter months! 

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Birthday memories

Always a family day to remember as my dad and his sister, born two years apart, shared a birthday. Remembering both of them today, I thought I’d scan a couple more photos from the family albums to mark the occasion. My lovely aunt’s photo I recall as a child, and thought it so glamorous – I still do!

Dad didn’t really have a ‘glamour’ shot to match! I don’t know the year of either of these photos, but both look pretty young, so I went with these images of before I even knew & loved them. I have a suspicion dad’s photo may mark his starting work, but that’s just a guess.

Joyce
David
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