when a man is tired of London

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, for there is in London all that life can afford.

I think Samuel Johnson had a point. Every time I go (we only live an hour away by train) I love it, but then I’m always glad to get home. As I type this at the kitchen table I can see the daffodils peeping through. The chickens are sunbathing, and the sun is lighting up the new leaves of the rose bushes.

On a Saturday, London is heaving with tourists who wave maps and stop suddenly in front of barriers and congregate in huge groups, driving you off the pavement. And people who are talking so much (because they haven’t seen each other for two years) that they get on a train, change at the next underground station, keep talking, walk in a circle, and get on a train that takes them back to where they started. Ahem.

What I like about blogs is that you see the world through someone else’s eyes. For me the world is all about pattern and colour. Lines, shapes, impressions. So my London photos aren’t of Big Ben or the Houses of Parliament. They’re photos of the things I see, and the way I see the world. It’s a kaleidoscope.

We were on a mission to find a bottle of wine when we found Persephone books. It was quite by accident and very lovely. The shop was beautiful – everything a bookshop should be. And I accidentally bought another three books for my collection. I’ll write about them soon.

Even nicer still was coming back from London to a beautiful bunch of flowers – the lovely Liz at Violet Posy nominated me for a treat from Interflora. Aren’t they gorgeous?

Have a lovely weekend in the sunshine. I’m off to do some gardening.

Serendipity

1950s housewife keeps poo in a jar

Google have a clever thing for website owners called Google Analytics. You can find out all sorts of things, but my favourite is looking to see how people find their way here. As you’d expect there’s lots of jam, books, cake, chickens, gardening and all that stuff, but some of the other searches really make me laugh.

To the people who googled ’1950s housewife’ – Sorry, nice idea but no, really not at all. I’m a failed domestic goddess, really. I spend too much time lying around drinking cups of tea and reading books or reading blogs.

To the people who googled ‘most boring thing in the world’ – Mmm. Well, thanks, Google, for sending them here. You know how to make a girl feel good.

‘I want to kill everyone in the world’ – Imagine. You’re a deranged psychopath, planning the demise of humanity. So you google it, and end up looking at photos of cake, chickens and Penguin paperbacks. Kill or cure, I guess.

Posh jelly? I’m not sure I want to know what that is.

400lb woman? Oh dear, not quite but thanks for the morale boost, dear Googler.

Dog poo. Poo in a jar. Poo in a bottle? I actually went back and checked to make sure I hadn’t written a scatalogical blog post whilst under the influence. Who are these people, and what on earth are they looking for? (Yes, poo, I know. But why?)

Vodka woman. Me? Never. Can’t stand the stuff.

Gin woman. Ahem. Maybe. Alright, I admit it.

Completely bonkers. Evil vegetables. (But why would you google these things?)

Women being milked like cows? Are these people insane? Oh, yuck.

Badger poo. (Badger poo?)

Deer eating popcorn?

I think I’ve been living a sheltered life.

In other news, Tales from the Village is now the no3 Uk Gardening Blog according to Wikio, right below the Gardening blog of the Guardian and Observer newspapers. Not bad for a little blog that isn’t even a year old! Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and making writing this jumble of gardening, 1950s housewifery, badger poo and deer eating popcorn such fun.

If you haven’t subscribed (where have you been?) you can put your email address in the little box there, and you’ll get Tales from the Village straight into your email inbox. Exciting stuff.

If you’re a Facebook sort of person, you can come over to the Tales from the Village Facebook page for extra ramblings, photographs of chickens and conversations about what’s for dinner.

And you can also add me as a friend on Facebook too.

Phew. That’s enough social media trumpet tootling. I’m off to prepare some evil vegetables for dinner, like a good little 1950s housewife.

Inspired by Karen at If I Could Escape’s post and much cackling on Twitter this afternoon when I could have been doing something productive.

something amazing happened today

I put the first few chapters of my book on Authonomy a few days ago. It’s a website, created by the publisher Harper Collins, where writers can upload their books and get honest feedback.

Today it reached no1. Much squeaking for joy ensued. People who weren’t obliged to be polite liked it. People said nice things about it. People asked for more. I can’t quite believe it.

This has to be the best World Book Day present ever.

If you’d like to have a read, my book is here.

I’m going to have a little lie down. Or a big gin and tonic.

Vintage Penguin Paperbacks

For World Book Day and because I said I’d take photos of some of my favourite vintage Penguin paperbacks, just because they are so lovely.

I have books everywhere in the house. We recently bought three new bookshelves and they were filled instantly. Novels, books on writing, books on chickens, books on allotments, books on other books.

Shelves stacked two deep, bedside tables with toppling piles, coffee tables and kitchen shelves covered in everything from Delia Smith to Nigella Lawson.

Years ago, I was lucky to be given boxes of the vintage Penguins you see here. Someone was clearing out their house, and didn’t want piles of fusty old books. Their rubbish was my treasure. The smell of old books, the faded, yellowing pages – they are magical. Just look at this:

The Mass Observation Archive has fascinated me for years. I’d read all the books by Simon Garfield and Nella Last’s diaries before I realised I owned the original book. And look – advertising on the back!

A first edition Penguin Classic of Homer’s Odyssey that cost one shilling in 1945, sitting on my bookshelf making me happy 66 years later. That’s the magic of books. Happy World Book Day.