Days Gone By

Every summer when I come back to England I'm always blessed with beautiful weather.  I spend most of my time here (when not in the kitchen) driving around the gorgeous West Country with my Mum.  Our drives are often trips down memory lane, and this visit proved to be no different.  

Last week we drove to Bath, one of the West Country's most beautiful and historic city's.  We parked outside the city and took the "park and ride" bus right into the city center, it was so easy, with none of the usual stresses of hunting for a parking space, and then running back every hour to feed the meter, hoping you're not spotted by the meter maids, and therefor collecting a fine.

The most adorable little candy store

We slowly ambled around the center sightseeing, and stopped outside The Corridor, where I had my very first job at 16 as a hairdresser, the salon was right above the entrance to the corridor, and it's still a salon today.

In the square outside the cathedral a busker was sat playing a violin as well as a number of strange musical instruments all at the same time.

Mum took me to the historic and very elaborate Pump Rooms for lunch, where we sat at a white linen covered table, under the largest crystal chandelier I think I've ever seen, and a pianist played Chopin so beautifully on a grand piano as we ate our lunch, and sipped minted Pimms from tall crystal glasses.

I love the eclectic collection of shops in Bath, you can find everything here from genuine antiques to garden plants; the fashions are both hippy, eccentric and fun, as well as sombre and elegant.  I saw these hand made shoes in one of the boutique stores that I just had to photograph.

On our drive home we passed through the village with my first school, we stopped to look at the church where Mum was married, and a mile up the street was the cottage where I was born, still called Merton Cottage.  I stopped to take a photograph, and the lady of the house came out to ask me if I was an estate agent, as she had recently listed the property.  When I told her I was born in the cottage she came over to talk to Mum,  she told us that she had lived in the cottage for 20 years, and was able to give Mum news of some of her old neighbors.  It's 50 years since I've lived there, and it felt strange standing outside after all this time.

Merton Cottage

Just up the road was what used to be the Post Office, (it's now a house) that had been in my family for a hundred years, my Dad was the last in our family line to run the business, he took over from my granddad and ran the business for a few years.

The short time between selling Merton cottage, and moving into the grand Georgian estate Mum and Dad inherited, we had lived above the Post office.

Moving from a tiny 3 bed cottage, and then a tiny 3 bed apartment above a shop, into a 45 room mansion had been a huge lifestyle change for all of us.

Oldland Hall
As it was when it was my home

Mum and I didn't drive past the house this time, it's since been sold and all the grounds divided up for large housing developments.   The house itself has been divided into flats, and the barn and stables are converted into houses,  my Grandpa's kitchen garden houses an entire housing estate.  I can't bear to look at it,  I like to keep my memories of that special home and time in tact.

My life has moved me all over the place, from one country to the next, to now living on a boat in the Caribbean,  traveling as much as I do it seems I lead the life of a gypsy, I dream of being able to put down roots again somewhere, one day, hopefully in the not too distant future, the trip down memory lane last week was filled with emotion of the days gone by...