Day 19: To Hampton Court

Well, here I am, back at the Mitre. It feels a bit closer to home. Since yesterday’s post, the Australian Government has ordered all passengers arriving from the UK to self-isolate for 14 days. In some ways this is a relief. It means I will get home. My great fear had been a shut-down. My daughter in Adelaide has generously ordered some supplies for me which she will drop off at my door on Friday morning. Maybe I should regard it as part of the trip and continue the blog till it’s over!

I was up in good time this morning and waiting when my driver arrived. I managed to take a photo in my favourite corner.

My driver proved talkative and interesting. He left Sri Lanka in 1989 as a 14 year old on a German scheme to get Sri Lankan children out of the war zone. He was the only dark child in the Foster House, and the town. He was schooled and looked after. His mother was killed by a missile in 1993.  He returned to Sri Lanka for a month during an amnesty in 1999. His father, although accepting that his son had a new life now in Germany, was most anxious that he should marry. Out of respect he succumbed to his father’s pleas and allowed his father to arrange a marriage for him. He signed the papers but had to return to Germany before he met his wife. His first contact with her was by phone from Germany. She joined him, accepting the marriage and new life, but constantly arguing for them to relocate to England for the sake of their children. From her Sri Lankan education she regarded England as the Mecca of education for their children - the goal being Oxford or Cambridge. Their children are now 16 and 17. The course his now 17 year-old daughter wants to do is not available at either Oxford or Cambridge but the pressure is still there from the mother. He still prefers Germany to England. He thinks it is fairer and more caring. He also says Christmas is wonderful in Germany and you hardly notice it in England!

He thinks the reaction to Corona Virus is ridiculous and is astonished to hear we have restrictions in Australia. He is very worried about his capacity to earn at the moment. Airport transfers have dropped dramatically and drivers are getting far fewer trips. People are not making business trips. 

 A most interesting trip. I didn’t find much time or opportunity to take photos. It rained for the first half an hour then settled into grey. This was a glimpse of the Thorpe Park Amusements Park.



At the Mitre my room was ready by 12.30pm. I could have had one earlier upstairs at the front of the hotel but opted to wait for a ‘quieter’ room. It’s on the inner courtyard, which I like, but on the further side than I have stayed before- a bit of a trek around corridors and up a few steps. Nice when you get there.

The window provides good light so I move a chair there.  

I go next door to visit Gardenarium, where I have twice found clothes I like in my size. No luck this time! The conversations, however, were interesting. Both shop attendant and customers agreed there is no chance their aunties/mothers will stay inside for 4 months. It seems that while Stay Calm and Wash your Hands is persuasive, Keep Calm and Stay at Home for 4 Months is not. It looks as if WWII propaganda film units might need to be re-established.


Back in my room I sat in my window and worked on a leaf of the Muncaster Orange. I resisted the urge to sleep - I was awake early this morning- and read for a bit.  

I was hoping to finish the leaf before posting this - but didn't quite make it.

The hotel was busy for lunch but quiet by the evening. Still the same lights and the same calming view.





My Duck Salad was excellent. 















I'm writing this while watching Timothy West and Prunella Scales travelling Swedish canals and meeting Viveca Sten. Skol
I have two days to prepare for my journey home - and self-isolation! Might as well make the most of having meals cooked for me!

(apologies for the font change - don't seem able to fix it.)

Day 18: By the Avon

After breakfast this morning I worked for about an hour on the Muncaster Orange until my room was serviced. Not, regretfully, in my chosen corner of the lounge which was occupied by strangers having breakfast. There was, however, a good spot in the window in the bar.

It is Saturday, and the place is buzzing. I listen to two elderly men teaching a third friend to do the cryptic crossword. He wants to learn. In between teaching they discuss the horses running today at Cheltenham.

Once my room is serviced I empty my bag all over my bed and repack it with some care and wash some smalls. Wouldn't do to pack dirty clothes. It fits quite nicely.


I walk down to the river. It's overcast and cool but there are plenty of people about.  I had a look in the RST shop. It's an interesting collection, and includes some packs of small fabric squares from costumes made for the 2019 season. Of course I buy one. There were also packs of larger pieces from the Winter Season- almost fat quarters,  in muted Winter colours.

Along the river the swans are out in force, cadging from the parents who have brought their children to be terrified by feeding them.

I love the swans - but they are pretty fearsome. There is nothing in their expressions to suggest they are friendly.

They are nevertheless photogenic.

Further up the river there's another group of them being fed. My original lot sense a better deal and paddle furiously to compete











only to be disillusioned.

Swans are not the only birds hanging around for their chance.



















The canal lock is deserted. It fell into disrepair but was reopened in 1968 by the Queen Mother.



I'm sure it gets more use in Summer.









I didn't check if this is actor or bard stepping up to speak.




I was distracted by this piano man, playing and singing Music Hall songs as he pedalled his piano in a circle along the river, collecting donations in the hat attached to  the side of the piano.










There were plenty of people out and about, holding hands and showing no signs of Covid19 panic.










This tree was my the most beautiful thing I saw on my walk




especially when the birds were wheeling.

Back at the hotel I did more stitching in the bar, had my soup for late lunch (along with a ham, cheese and pickle sandwich instead of scones - how good am I!).  This time my companions were couples, English and European. Manners, I notice, dictate they whisper so as not to disturb others. Larger groups usually feel free to talk loudly.


As I contemplated my morning's purchased, it struck me that the fabric packs I had rejected might make really appropriate lining and backing for the pouch I intend to make from Nicola's Midsummer Pillowe. So back I went, and indeed, I think this pack has at least three possible pieces. So the Midsummer Pillow may be constructed with the Royal Shakespeare Theatre's 2019 Winter Season costuming! There's a task to keep me occupied if I have to self-isolate when I return home!



As I walked back to my hotel, the bicycle piano man was just turning into Sheep Street and passed me by with a rendition of "It was just one of those things".



I finished my stitching in my room. The bar on a Saturday evening is not conducive to solitary stitching.

I finished the first orange, which pleases me no end. I shall put this away now until tomorrow. It will become my Mitre Project. I have my travel project to keep me happy until then.

I've picked up my wallet from the hotel safe, the washing is nearly dry and bags ready to receive the last of the toiletries, cords and devices.


Tomorrow is Mitre day!

Day 17: Arts Heritage Centre & change of plan

Over the last couple of days I have been fluctuating between (1) relaxing into a week at the Mitre Hotel Hampton Court while waiting for my 2 day course at the RSN and (2) changing my flight home. This morning I had another serious look at altering my flight. My finger paused over the button for the best part of a minute - then I pressed it. As a result I am booked to leave Heathrow  next Wednesday at 11.55 am and arrive in Adelaide at 7.15 pm Thursday.  This means I have cancelled my 2 day course at the RSN. 

My concern is not so much contracting the virus but finding myself locked out of Australia if the government extends its European travel ban to the UK. It’s a bit of a long shot at the moment but as things are changing rapidly I’d like to be home sooner rather than later. I don't think I can relax at the Mitre while wondering if my flight will take off.

Next Wednesday’s flight is on the same schedule on which I was originally booked - even the same seats! While I could have had flights sooner, l had to alter either my route or connection. It will cost me - but less than the cost of staying.

At times like this I just want to be at home.

It took me a while to organise this and subsequent hotel and class changes so I did not get to breakfast until 9.40 am , forgetting that on weekdays breakfast finishes at 9.30. Staff cleaning tables as the stragglers finished told me firmly that breakfast was finished. I didn’t argue so took myself off to my stitching corner. Soon my favourite staffer, Lilliana, arrived to check my stitching. When she discovered I had missed breakfast she asked if I’d like coffee - and croissants. Soon she had rustled up a more than adequate breakfast . Yar boo sucks to grumpy wait staff!

When I had eaten and cleaned my hands, I set to work on the plaited braid pea.


I am pleased with this. This is definitely a stitch that improves with repetition. I'm getting there.

My plan was to visit the Heritage Arts Centre, which did not open until 1.30 pm.  I walked down to the river.


There was not a lot happening. The magnolia tree is magnificent.










It was still only 1pm, so I called into the Cancer Council Op Shop. In addition to used items they sell a range of sewing kits and packaged accessories.




I liked this pack of zippers - which gave me an idea.


By now the Heritage Arts Centre was about to open.  The Entrance is marked by yarn bombing.

On the pamphlet that led me here, the centre is simple billed as "Heritage Arts Centre". Its website has it as 'Slaughter House Heritage Arts Centre'. 





The building was apparently a 15th century mill, a 16th/17th pub (The Crown) an 18th century rope walk and a 19th century butchery.

The last is the explanation for the name, and for the equipment displayed in the main room.



There are displays of heritage items - most of which I have used at one time or another in my life!



A charity, Escape Arts, manages the site, running a lego club for kids and engaging in community projects, such as the re- upholstering of this chair,  which had been the favourite of Arthur Weatherhead,  an electrician at the RST.


The group clearly does a good job of engaging the community in both the past and present day art enterprises.








This section of Stratford is picturesque and well-maintained. Some signs, like the one on the bank, seem redundant.




Back at the hotel I had what has become my regular lunch. The soup is very good. So are the scones.








By 5.30 pm I had finished the blackwork piece - or more accurately, the plaited braid stitch piece. It is far from perfect but I am pleased with it. I got the hang of it and can do the stitch without looking at the instructions. The trick is in the tension and spacing. It is much harder in gold passing thread than in perle, but  I did get into the rhythm.

When it was finished I tried out my zip idea. I think it will work. This will be my pouch for goldwork tools








and this will be the pouch for keeping silk threads. Reckon it will work.


With that sorted, I rang my friend Christine Thatcher and sorted out the problems of the world for the best part of an hour. She approves my decision to return home early. Although we won't be able to meet this visit we will talk again in a couple of days time. These friendships are why I keep coming.

Last day in Stratford tomorrow.