France part 1: Albi and the Chateau du Bosc, homes to Toulouse Lautrec

We've just spent 10 days in the Midi-Pyrenees area of France. Our holiday crossed two departements, sort of like counties here in the UK. We started off in the Tarn, and then went on to Aveyron, both in SW France, inland from Carcassone and Perpignan.

Our first stop was Albi, a UNESCO world heritage site. A beautiful medieval city on the river Tarn, with really lovely, friendly, welcoming people, famously the birthplace of Toulouse Lautrec. I've never been a particular fan of his work, but since we were there, it made sense to check out the museum. It is always fascinating to see the development of an artist's work. It so often starts and ends in a completely different place. It turns out that Henri Toulouse Lautrec was a precocious child, with an incredible talent for drawing from an early age. His favourite things to draw were horses. There are some amazing paintings from when he was a young teenager, which, regardless of whether you like the subject matter, demonstrate quite an astonishing expertise. 

These interior shots are of the incredibly stylish place we stayed. Our host Brigitte was just gorgeous, with great taste in everything. The breakfast she gave us was one of the best meals we had during our stay. I have her secret recipe for French toast which I am going to try out soon.

The bridge on the river Tarn. There's me in my cut and shut jumpsuit again. I'm certainly getting my wear out of that. That cardigan belonged to my grandmother and was part of a two piece suit she knitted in the 60s. I've had it since I was 13. It used to be longer, but I cut it to fit my teenage self. I wore the skirt to death until my mum chucked it out when I wasn't looking. The tell tale sign is that it has my name tag sewn into it, which means I had it at boarding school. That bag is made by Em, I use it all the time.

Our first night in Albi was magical. We sat and ate outside, then wandered around and sat in a park watching the world go by. The perfect start to a holiday.

We noticed a few portraits of the artist's mother in the museum, in rather attractive looking rooms. It turned out the family was rather wealthy, and as well as the family home in Albi, there was a chateau, where they passed the summer months.

So, when we got to our gite in Averyron and discovered a leaflet for the Chateau Bosc, which is that same chateau, I knew I wanted to visit.

Originally a fortress in the 12th century, it gradually turned into a home. But what is truly astonishing is that it has belonged to different branches of the same family the entire time. Toulouse Lautrec was part of that family. It seems he is descended from a very important dynasty. The more I discovered, the more it seemed that his work was less interesting than everything else about him.

Inside there are family portraits, dating back hundreds of years, Aubusson tapestries cover the walls, there is Sevre porcelain to eat off, bohemian glass to drink from and Louis IV chairs with the original silk upholstery to sit upon. 

You can see the original tiny windows of the fortress. The other, larger, more domestic windows were added in the 19th century.

But nothing, nothing could compare to our guide. This tiny lady, well into her 80s is Nicole-Berangere Tapie de Celeyran, great niece of the artist. That sign says ring the bell very, very loudly. That's because she is a little hard of hearing. She came out of the side entrance of the house, unaware of our presence, holding her teeth in her hand. She invited us to view a small exhibition in the stables, then join her in the front garden. When we got there, she was kneeling in the dirt, doing the weeding. Small lady, big spirit.

She showed us around her home, just the two of us, dazzling us with a river of facts and anecdotes, all in French. She quoted letters by heart, verbatim. She lives this house, this history. It is her life's work. I have never wanted to take someone's photo so much in all my life. It felt like the most precious gift to meet her, she is a piece of living history, bearing all this legacy in her tiny person with composure and grace.

Next up, a fairytale wedding.

In Hugh we trust

A while ago, we took ourselves off to our local Open Gardens. There were some beautiful homes adjoined by gardens with all manner of different styles of planting. Some natural and wild-looking, others more manicured and perfect.

Unfortunately this event has become rather a victim of its own success, with an expected turnout of 4000 people to look around 14 domestic gardens. In practice that meant lots of queuing to squeeze in and squeeze out and very little chance to properly see and appreciate the beauty.

I loved that romantic looking balcony and look, an authentic original Anderson shelter in a little suburban garden. It was tiny. I can't imagine what it must have been like for a family to spend the night in there.

We had our lovely friends Eloise and Patrick over for dinner. We relied heavily on Hugh for inspiration.

Rosemary potatoes, thyme and garlic tomatoes, broad beans with goats cheese and yoghurt, olives, green salad and an aubergine and chick pea dish. All washed down with prosecco, because it was Saturday night and it's summer.

I dressed as Huggy Bear's girlfriend with my 70's patchwork print flares and a halter neck top with a palm tree print, which makes me think of holidays...

Finally, Serena has tagged me on a blog tag thingy, where you have to answer some questions about what you would give as presents to someone who is on an exotic island

Book - Arundhati Roy, The God of Small things, 

Beauty product - lipstick

Favourite snack - roasted chestnuts, wasabi peas, homemade cheese, olive and paprika biscuits

Music album - forgotten the name of the album, but it's Gregory Isaacs and it has Loving Pauper on it.

Other item - I would say flowers, but there will be flowers there already, so it's got to be alcohol! Lots of alcohol. Well, it is a birthday after all.

I tag all of you!

Get thee to the workhouse!

Southwell in Nottinghamshire is a small town with a lot of history.

We went for a trip around the workhouse, which is one of the earliest (1824) and is the most complete example remaining.

Southwell Minster showing the vegetable garden and Bramley apple tree in the foreground.

I learned some really interesting social history. Up until the early 19th century, if you were destitute, you went to your parish leaders and asked for help. You would be given 'poor relief' which would pay your bills and allow you to stay in your own home.

On the right is the toilet. Situated in the back yard and roofless.

After 1834, when you asked for help, the parish leaders would contact the workhouse and subject to assessment you would be offered a place in a workhouse. If you wanted to leave at any time, you were free to go, you just had to sign out, but you would not be given any help, you would have to find paid employment. During your stay there, the sexes were segregated at all times, and children were in their own wing.

At the discretion of the master, children may be able to see their parents for a short period on a Sunday, after church. All able-bodied inmates worked from dawn to dusk and in return, they were given three meals a day, a bed and a roof over their head. For many, it was a choice between this and starvation on the outside. Plus there was the bonus of free health care and education for the children. Workhouses were an effective and financially efficient way of providing relief to the poor. They saved the taxpayer a lot of money compared to financing the poor to remain in their own homes.

This lady was wonderful. She played a real character from the 19th century who managed to get herself into a bit of trouble for inciting others to sing normal songs instead of hymns and other misdemeanors. She found herself in financial difficulties after her husband had an accident on the farm where he worked and she was thrown out of the tied cottage. 'He got caught in the thresher. Cut to ribbons" she told me. "So you see, it's not my fault I'm in here." She also told us that matron was off to see the butcher again. Never came back with any meat, only a smile on her face. And as for Master, he kept going off to see his sick sister. She never got any better or any worse, but he was always in a much better mood after his visit. Fancy!

The two types of inmates. Idle and profligate. Blameless and deserving.

Although in a slightly different way, the poor lived here right up until the 1970s. Here is a one roomed apartment which housed a family of five.

Out and about viewing the other claims to fame, here is the Saracen's Head in Southwell, where Charles I spent his last night of freedom before surrendering at Newark Castle.

Southwell is also the birthplace of the Bramley apple, the first tree having been planted from a pip by a schoolgirl named Mary Brailsford. It is a really pretty little town, with the feel of a village, but with a majestic church plonked in the centre. The scale and contrast never fails to surprise.

Finally, here is a stained glass window in the Minster, designed by my friend's Dad, Patrick Reyntiens.

What did I wear? The Master's hat and a 1960's Hawaiian jumpsuit by Janet Lynn. When I first got it, it would have looked good accessorised with a red nose, a squirty flower and some big shoes, but I put in some darts, took out the side pockets, got rid of the green fabric additions, added some patch pockets on the front, and changed the neckline. A bit of decorative ric-rac completed the job.

Your aunt Millicent died and left you a portion of her wardrobe

Is it me or is there a 1930s vibe in the air?

We have Desiree as the beautiful bohemian artist, Helga as Mademoiselle X, the most irresistible figure of the Resistance, and then there's delightful Lally bringing a marvellous exoticism to the proceedings.

So when I saw I capture the Castle a few weeks ago, I felt as frisky as you please. I needed to dress up in period. I went straight to my dressing up trunk. Do not stop. Do not pass Go.

The 1930s were my first vintage love, back when I was a slip of a girl. I bought this beautiful silk satin bias cut dress for £4 at my first ever visit to Glastonbury (or Pilton as we used to call it) in June 1984. It's Madeleine Vionnet all the way. I wore it a lot.

This outfit of a jumpsuit and cardigan worn by Rose inspired what I wore when we went to Sheffield. I prefer the character of Cassandra, but Rose definitely gets the best clothes.

There's my favourite actress, Vivien Leigh as my namesake Titania in 1937. I wore this 1930s floral printed chiffon dress to the private view of my final project at Art School in 1988.

Can you guess what I'm doing here?

That's right, I'm saying 'Pool boy, go and make me some tasty tea!'

He's a good fellow. Beetroot tart with thyme and garlic roasted tomatoes.

There's something rather 1930s about foxgloves. Very English cottage garden and often in those watercolour children's illustrations of the time.

Finally, here is Vivien in 1938 as Aurora by Angus McBean.

I look like the lights are on but nobody's home. That's not quite right, I was actually concentrating on getting my arms right. And thinking about beetroot tart.

Sunday Girl

The perfect Sunday can take different forms, but for me, there are certain key components.

Firstly, you get up when the world is sleeping, creep into your car and enjoy quiet roads while you travel out into the near countryside. You park in a field and seek out treasure! Do you know what I'm talking about?

Yep, it's carbooty!

This lady's stall was amazing. I bought three things from her. I was tempted by more, but didn't take enough cash. 

The first thing, a vintage port box which has now found its place as a bedside table. That little Dortmund ornament was a present from Vix.

When you get back, you have breakfast in the garden and think about how to incorporate all your new treasures into the house.

Then you potter about doing bits of jobs. Hang washing out in the sunshine. Catch up with family on the phone. Mow the lawn, cut flowers from the garden to put all around the house, that kind of thing.

After that you need a bit of lazy time, doing not very much, wearing no make up, and something comfortable. In this case a Hawaiian house dress. It looks a bit Hattie Jacques on, but is that such a bad thing? You eat tasty treats. A nice fresh lunch, savoury snacks in the afternoon, followed by a slap up tea. Cooked by him, of course.

The remains of a snack on a picnic table is the second thing bought from the aforementioned stall. The tambourine with gypsy girls dancing across it is the third thing.

A detail from the picnic tray. 

A miniature Sicilian wedding cart

Finally, you watch a film, with a glass of wine, and then roll into bed at a nice reasonable hour, so you wake up ready to face the week. 

What about you? What are your hot tips for a perfect Sunday?

I'm multi-passionate!

We've had some amazing Spring weather this year and the garden is blooming. The broccoli has bolted. He was about to pull it all out when we came across an article telling us about edible flowers. Since then these flowers have been a rich and delicious source of decorative topping for salads and for snacks as I pass in the garden. We have nasturtiums, but I'm on the hunt for some marigolds and violas for that swanky restaurant feel this summer.

That's Sideshow Bob there on the left, mid hair cut. I like to pretend the front garden is a meadow. I think that choice tends to be more popular with the wildlife than the humans. They say ironic things, like 'I like what you've done with the place'. I say thank you enthusiastically. I'll take a compliment whether it's intended or not. Oh look, there's a lone viola. You know how that story's going to end.

I've been out and about, most recently to a most amazing conference created by the one and only Serena. I'm not quite sure when she sleeps, or even actually, if she does.

Venetian mirrors, gilt furniture and velvet walls. I love a posh ladies room. The lady herself.

The conference was aimed at multi-passionate women. I know, I hadn't heard of it before.  Multi-passionates are people who enjoy and are inspired by a lot of different things and who get a bit itchy and scratchy about the idea of a very linear path, you know, one job for life then a steady retirement. Which fits with me, because I've taken quite a scenic route around a career and don't think I'm done yet. It's sort of like Ants in Your Pants for grown ups. Turns out, it's OK to change your mind and play with things, and you don't have to settle down and eat the same dinner every Monday.

Em's bag goes everywhere with me these days. That's in the hall of mirrors. 

It leads on to thinking about your personality type and what it is that is your special talent and then finding a way of channeling that to make a living for you whilst you are living the dream. The keynote speaker, Marianne Cantwell, has managed to do that in a way that allows her to travel and live in amazing places throughout the year whilst running an online coaching business. It was very inspiring and has given me a lot to think about. I am ready for a change, but I just need to figure what that is going to look like.

Naturally, since it was created by Serena, the conference took place at a beautiful venue. Instead of name badges, there were wild foraged corsages, because that way you had to talk to people to find out their name. I put my social head on and waded in. It was great fun and I met some lovely women.

It felt like the first step on a journey. I wonder where it will lead.