Communing in Constable Country

Scene of Constable's 'Hay Wain'

Well – I've finally made it to East Anglia! I've been saying for the last two years that I must really get to the east side of the country a) because I've never really been here (apart from day trips to Speedway venues! and one three-day coach tour with Mum) and b) because its flat!

I set off from Jeni's cottage in Wells on Wednesday, 4^th June and made my way to the A303, then on to the M3 and northbound onto the M25. I haven't driven on the M25 for many years – it doesn't improve! However, I had no major hold-ups but it seemed like an awfully long way to Junction 28 where I turned off onto the A12 and headed for Colchester. My destination was Old Hall Community, East Bergholt and it was only as I drove into the village that I had a real deja-vu moment – I had been here before! It was one of the few places that the coach tour had stopped on our whirlwind tour of 'Constable Country and Jimmy's Farm'. I was so busy checking that it definitely was the same place that I drove straight past the entrance to Old Hall and had to go some way before I could turn and retrace my steps.

It is only the second time that I have stayed in a community (the first time was in June 2010 at Canon Frome Court in Herefordshire) and, superficially it is very similar. There are about 40 residents, all owning their own units, and contributing to the running of the farm and vegetable gardens. The big difference between the two is that here all meals are taken communally in the Refectory/Kitchen – its amazing to see the ease with which people cater for upwards of 30 people at each meal! I think the food is a big draw for lots of the younger WWOOFers – I have not felt hungry at all since I've been here. If you get peckish between the (cooked) lunch and the large supper, you can always have toast with a variety of toppings and tea and coffee are always on tap, thanks to a water heater. The building is a huge old house opposite the church and parts of it date back to the 1700s. After being the 'Big House' it became a convent for a closed order of nuns and then a monastery for some monks who sold it to the founders of the community in 1974 when their numbers had declined so greatly that it was no longer viable as a monastery. There is even a bell tower and the bell is rung to let everyone know when meals are ready. I went to Dedham one Sunday walking along the river. It is a couple of miles away as the crow flies but you could hear the meal bell quite distinctly from there!

East Bergholt Bell Cage

East Bergholt is the birthplace of John Constable and many of his more famous paintings are of scenes in the locality. Its other claim to fame is its unique church bell cage. The bell cage was constructed in the 1500s as a temporary measure until the tower was completed. There is still no tower and the bells still reside in their original framework to one side of the churchyard. The bell ringers practice on a Wednesday evening, so I went to see the bells in action. Obviously, because the bells are at ground level, they cannot be rung in the conventional manner, so have to be swung from the top of the bell and pushed from side to side. Several of the community members are ringers and they say that once the bell starts to swing it is not heavy to move, but it is difficult to control the rate of swing and therefore the timing of the changes. They all wear ear defenders but I imagine most of the bellringers of yesteryear were as deaf as a post from being in such close proximity.

On my second morning here I woke early and, as it was a beautiful morning, I breakfasted and then walked down to Flatford Mill which is only about twenty minutes away. At that time of day it was very peaceful and, although the scene is not quite the same now, you could almost imagine Mr Constable sitting there with his easel painting 'The Hay Wain'. I imagine that, later in the day, it bears very little resemblance to that peaceful, pastoral scene as it must be a huge tourist draw.

The community owns 70 acres of land and there are several large vegetable plots and soft fruit areas that need constant attention at this time of year. There are usually two or three WWOOFers staying at any one time during the summer months and they are generally used for weeding and planting of vegetables and have little to do with the animal residents unless they express a burning desire to milk a cow or collect eggs. While I have been here there have been a young couple from Italy, and girls from France, Germany, Spain and Switzerland plus one older British guy who comes every year as an unofficial WWOOfer and is an easy-going hard worker. The Spanish WWOOFer was a successful business woman on holiday from Granada, so we were able to talk about that beautiful city and if I go back some day perhaps we could meet up. Who knows?

Although I have not had much to do with the animals here, I did manage to get to help on sheep shearing day, hustling sheep through the pen and occasionally rolling fleeces. They have a small flock (about 35) of Lincoln Longwools, which are a rare breed, and shearing them nearly broke the shearer's heart, and his back, as they are large animals and very overweight, for the most part, and their fleece is like very matted dreadlocks! It was a boiling hot day and at first he was working in full sun but, eventually, we reconstructed the shearing pen in the shade of the barn and I got very 'mumsie' and made him drink copious amounts of water each time he finished a sheep! I have accepted the offer of a fleece to add to my collection but, as yet, have no idea what I will use it for. Due, I suppose, to my obvious sheep knowledge, the man who generally looks after the sheep almost exclusively, decided it was OK to go on holiday with his wife for a week, leaving me to look after the flock which includes a poorly sheep and her equally poorly lamb! I am told that it is the first time that Jake has ever relinquished care of 'his' flock to a visitor (he rarely lets residents help) so I suppose I should feel honoured, rather than anxious! They are due back today and I have managed to keep both animals alive until their return! I think the lamb has turned the corner now and seems a lot more lively but the ewe, although she eats well, drinks well and has normal 'bodily functions', seems unable to get to her feet. I wonder if it could be to do with her weight problem (she is a tad obese) as it seems to be a mechanical issue rather than a physical illness. Her lamb has learned to suckle from her while she is lying down – clever little lad! I have christened him Claude, for some reason.

I WWOOFed here officially for two weeks but, as I had been unable to find another host until 5^th July, I am now staying on as a paying guest but expected to contribute 15 hours a week to the community (as do the residents). This means that I have been able to pick and choose what I do, so have made some butter and yesterday I made a large Cheddar cheese which, unfortunately, won't be ready to eat until September. In between jobs I have been travelling around the Suffolk countryside, and also indulging in a bit of outdoor wool spinning.

I had not realised that Suffolk was such a beautiful county – it is not completely flat, but rolls and swells gently. Admittedly, there are no major hills (at 40metres above sea level, the community is perched on a high point in the landscape) but there are lots of trees and rivers and incredibly pretty villages. Many of the old cottages are thatched and painted lovely pastel colours and, in Lavenham, there are many jettied Tudor half-timbered houses with remnants of pargeting on their façades. The reason that there are so many original Tudor houses in the towns in this area is that it was once a rich and thriving wool area (a bit like the Cotswolds) but the decline in the trade was so fast that, instead of being pulled down or modernised over the years by their owners, most of the merchants' houses were left to decay or split into smaller dwellings for the ordinary townsfolk. In the early part of the twentieth century this architectural heritage was recognised and steps taken to preserve and restore these beautiful buildings. The nearby town of Hadleigh also has some beautiful old merchants' houses plus a huge church, out of all proportion to the size of the town. Unfortunately, on the day that I was having a wander round there was a wedding in the church – I saw the groom and best man arriving on a large, well-polished John Deere tractor!

On another day I went to visit Sutton Hoo, the site of one of the biggest Anglo-Saxon boat burials ever discovered in Europe. There are many burial mounds set close together in one area of this estate and in 1939 Mrs Edith Pretty, the owner of the 'big house', decided to get a local man to excavate one of the largest mounds. Several of the graves had already been ransacked by treasure seekers but they had not dug down far enough in this mound to disturb what lay beneath – a large boat, ninety feet long, containing the remains of the most wonderful Anglo-Saxon artefacts. The original 'hoard' is housed in the British Museum but the National Trust has an exhibition here of facsimiles and it is really stunning. Because of the acid nature of the sandy soil in this part of Suffolk, all of the natural substances have been eaten away – in fact, the ship that was excavated was just a stain in the sand where the timbers used to be and some rusty nails! However, the gold, silver and iron work all remain and are exquisitely carved and ornamented with inlays and semi-precious stones – even the horse harness of a warrior's horse found buried near its master in a separate mound on the site.

The Ickworth Rotunda

Continuing the historical and cultural nature of my days off I have also visited Framlingham Castle, of which only the massive curtain walls remain to bear witness to its importance in the history of this country – it was here that Mary Tudor was declared Queen and set out, in pomp, for London, and Ickworth Park, home of the rather notorious Hervey family, which consists of a huge, Italianate rotunda flanked by curving wings. The family lived in one of the wings (now an hotel) and used the rotunda as guest accommodation and to display their collections. It now houses the huge collection of family silver and a comprehensive collection of beautiful fans dating from the 1700s. I found the building rather ugly but was captivated by the 5.5 acre walled garden that lies a good distance from the house. At the moment it is a huge, open space sown with wild flowers but, on the chance discovery of the Head Gardener's diary and notebook from the turn of the twentieth century, found in an old cupboard in 2009, there are plans afoot to return it to its productive heyday over the next few years – that will be fascinating to see.

I was lucky enough, during the second weekend of my stay, to be present for the 40^th birthday of the community. The whole weekend was given over to celebratory meals and the place was bulging at the seams as families and friends of the residents arrived for the celebrations. As has been the case for most of my stay here, the sun shone, and we ate two of the 'formal' meals outside in the lovely gardens at the front of the house – I even found a skirt amongst my possessions and donned earrings as well! On the Sunday afternoon we had a birthday cake and the oldest, original member made the ceremonial first cut. There are still several original or very early members here and some of their children have also returned to take up residence with their families.

I have stayed on as the guest of Ruth and Richard (who used to live at Old Chapel Farm, in Wales, where I WWOOFed several times) as all visitors have to be 'sponsored'. Its been good to catch up with them again and to see how well they have integrated into the life of the community. Several people have asked if I would consider living in a community but, tempting as many aspects are of life here, I still don't think I could 'live by committee' as I like to make my decisions and act on them, not discuss them endlessly until some sort of agreement is reached. I have loved my stay here, and would certainly come back again to WWOOF or stay as a paying guest, but live here? I don't think so.

Old Hall Community

Viva Espana!

View of Granada from the Alhambra

Well, I said, in my anniversary blog, that things would have to change if I was to continue WWOOFing for much longer, and change they have! TravellingJan has gone international!

This all happened almost by accident. The WWOOF organisation asked me if I would write a short article, about using the website over the last four years, for their newsletter. I duly wrote a short piece and then emailed the WWOOF News to Jeni to show off. As well as reading the article she read the rest of the News including the classified ads on the back page (which I always glance at to see what opportunities are about). The next thing I know is that Jeni has contacted one of the advertisers about helping to renovate a cave house in the south of Spain and suggested we go together. To cut a long story short, on 20h May I found myself boarding an Easyjet flight from Bristol Airport clutching one very small bag of clothes and wondering what on earth I was doing!

I expect most of you have flown many times, but I haven't been in a plane for 43 years – the last time was on my way back from Germany on my own, aged seventeen, and culminated in me experiencing a panic attack in Frankfurt airport that led me to believe that I would never fly again. I wasn't frightened of flying, but airports completely freaked me out. Bristol was a good choice as it is comparatively small and difficult to be overwhelmed in, but we flew to Madrid, which is vast! However, with Jeni by my side I remained calm and, for the most part, unruffled (slight panic when I couldn't remember which of the multitudinous pockets in my handbag contained my passport) and we even negotiated the Madrid Metro with ease. Because it is much younger than the London Underground the tunnels, and therefore the trains, are much wider and it feels a lot less claustrophobic, and even with the language barrier, the maps were easy to understand. It probably helped that we arrived at about 9.30pm and everywhere was very quiet so we could take our time buying tickets and working out where we had to change lines.

We eventually found the hostel we were staying in overnight, having walked up and down the street several times without noticing the very discreet nameplate. Having signed in and dropped off our bags, we headed out to find food. The hostel manager had recommended the Museo de Jamon (literally: the Museum of Ham) about five minutes walk away, and what a good choice it was. It was 10.30 at night but the shop part of the establishment was still buzzing and we were seated on a balcony overlooking all the activity – people taking their time trying lots of samples before buying some of the huge range of ham, chorizo and salami-style sausages on offer (plus a good selection of cheeses) while we sat above them enjoying a plate of cheese and ham and bread and a carafe of Tinto de Verrano, which is a sort of red wine spritzer and absolutely delicious. We finally wandered back to our hostel at about midnight (the shop and restaurant were just closing).

In the morning I woke to a familiar, but totally unexpected, sound – rain! We were completely taken by surprise and were unprepared as, trying to keep the costs down, we had only travelled with hand luggage, which did not allow for the packing of a jacket – waterproof or otherwise! We strolled (fairly rapidly) around the corner to the nearest cafe serving breakfast and watched the Madrid populace scuttling past clutching umbrellas and battling with the stiff breeze – there was even some enterprising chap selling umbrellas to those who had left home unprepared.

Eventually the rain eased off enough for us to venture forth and do a quick sightseeing wander around the wet, windy and cool centre of Madrid before retrieving our bags from the hostel and heading out to the bus station and our five hour bus ride to Granada. The land to the south of Madrid is, at first, very flat and scrubby and for ages all we saw were industrial estates and the odd restaurant and a few farms, many of which appeared to be derelict. The other, slightly spooky, thing was that we saw no people or livestock – it looked as if some kind of apocalypse had removed all living beings from the landscape. Another thing that slightly shocked me was the huge amount of graffiti everywhere – any wall, embankment, derelict house, all were covered in 'tags' and I soon noticed that 'Ron' or 'Ron's Team' occurred on almost every site for miles and miles! What a busy chap he must have been! About halfway between Madrid and Granada we went through a series of tunnels in some hills and emerged into a totally different landscape – hills, and in the distance mountains, rolled away from us in every direction and every one was covered in olive trees, spaced equidistant to one another in straight rows. It was completely mind-boggling to imagine the Spanish farmers planting these trees, by hand, up and down the mountain sides and keeping to a strict grid system and then, later, having to harvest the olives and somehow get them down from those dizzying, vertiginous heights! The olive groves are kept scrupulously weed-free as olives, apparently, don't like to compete with other vegetation and there were obvious signs of rotavation, but still no people to be seen, anywhere.

We eventually rolled into Granada bus station at 7pm and caught a local bus into the centre where we found our hostel quite easily. Again the hostel manager's recommendation was a good one and we ate paella and fried whitebait in a restaurant down a charming narrow alleyway paved with pebbles and swirling designs in grey slate. It was a very vibrant area filled with restaurants and bars but we were there 'too early' to experience it to the full – we were just heading back to the hostel as the Spanish population were coming out to eat.

I love Granada! We only had one, fairly short, day there before we had to catch another bus to another town where we were being met by our hosts, but we wandered the little streets of the old Moslem quarter turning up hidden steps and emerging through archways into small squares with decorative fountains and, once, a vibrant fruit and vegetable market. Above us the sky arched blue and cloudless and the very pale terracotta tiles of the house roofs stepped down the hill below us towards the cathedral in the busy city centre. Eventually, we meandered back to a large square in the centre and ate ice cream sitting on a bench in the sunshine and unashamedly people-watching. Jeni had managed to buy some tickets online for the Alhambra, but only in the afternoon – they have timed tickets as it is so popular, but even so, we could not get a full ticket to see the main Moorish part of the palace. In fact, it didn't really matter as we spent a lot of time walking round the stunning gardens with their formal water features, roses and beautiful flowers and then climbed the tallest tower to see the city spread below us. I would love to have stayed longer and taken more time to explore Granada but our journey wasn't over yet and we had another hour and a half bus journey to endure before reaching Baza. Our hosts met us at about 8.30pm and then it was another half hour in the hire car before we finally reached our destination – Cortes de Baza.

We were not staying in the cave house as it is still very much a work-in-progress, but in the house of a Spanish lady ceramicist who had studied in England. Her house was very beautiful, with tiled floors throughout and many artistic touches and examples of her ceramics in each room. She and her new partner (she's 63 and met him on a dating site!) stayed for a couple of days and then headed off to Alicante leaving the four of us as sole occupants. Elé and her mum, Elsabé, are South African but have lived in Britain for a number of years now. Elé and her husband bought the cave house about six years ago but have only been able to visit a couple of times a year to progress the work that needs doing, so it is a long, slow process.

The next morning we all went off to a DIY superstore to look for floor tiles for the cave house as that is one of the jobs that Elé wants to get under way during this short visit and to continue when they come back in July for six weeks. Between them, she and Jeni managed to converse with the very helpful assistant – I was pleasantly surprised (and very relieved) by how much Spanish Jeni still remembers from her time in South America. It was very odd being in a country where I didn't know a word of the language and even odder when Elé and Elsabé conversed in Afrikaans as well!

After making a note of the tiles Elé liked and taking a photo to send to her husband for approval, we all trooped over the road to a ham wholesaler that was open to the public, where Elé bought a whole shoulder ham, complete with leg and trotter, (4.5Kg) for 20 euro! These hams are popular all over Spain and range in price from about 8€/Kg to 89€/Kg depending on maturity (I think) and whether they are the shoulder or hind quarter. We didn't see any sign of pigs being farmed but they are more common in the north of Spain where it doesn't get so hot. Having said that, Elé's farmer neighbour at the cave house had two pigs that lived in a cave with an outdoor run which, I suppose, gives them the best of both worlds.

We eventually got to see the cave house for ourselves late in the afternoon, after our siesta ( a very civilised idea, I think). I don't really know what I was expecting but it certainly has the potential to be a very beautiful holiday home, and surprisingly large. There was a front yard behind locked gates and then a very British-looking front door behind a security grille which, when opened allowed us to step into the room that will eventually be the kitchen and main living room. This had dual aspect double glazed windows (again behind security grilles) and was very light. Leading off from this room was a short corridor that went to the bathroom, again with a window, and continued on to the main bedroom which was a true cave room being hewn out of the rock and with no external light. Back in the main room there were other archways leading to two interior bedrooms and an interior TV room/sitting room. The two back bedrooms were the only ones that didn't yet have concreted floors and one of the jobs that Elé was hoping to start was to get a builder with a hydraulic drill to dig them down another eighteen inches or so to enable the concrete to be laid.

On Saturday morning Jeni and I started work One of the bedrooms had a locked room beyond it (referred to as 'the jail') where a lot of stuff was stored, including the generator, and our first job was to empty this and the two bedrooms of everything in preparation for the digging, and to transfer it in an orderly way to the TV room. Once we'd done this we went off to the village market to buy some fruit and vegetables while Elé met with a plumber and a builder at the cave. The fruit looked amazing and we ended up buying cherries, grapes and some flat, doughnut-shaped peaches which were just fantastic, and a water melon, amongst other things.

In the afternoon we all went for a drive and found a lake that they hadn't noticed before. We bumped down a long unmetalled road bouncing over potholes, past ruined houses and then one or two that were lived in and guarded by ferocious-looking dogs, until we got almost down to the lake's edge where we got out and took some photos. On the way back Jeni spotted a bee-eater in a tree – they are very colourful birds that look a little like a kingfisher, but bigger, and everywhere there were olive groves and almond trees and small rectangular plots of tomatoes and peppers. The almonds were already clustered thick on the branches looking like small, flat peaches – it must have been so beautiful in this area when the almond blossom was out earlier in the year.

Sunday was a day of rest so, after a leisurely shower and breakfast, we all headed off to Baza and the Car Boot Sale! I couldn't believe they had car boot sales in Spain but, apparently, it was started by some ex-pats and was just like a British one, but with Spanish tat! We only stayed a short time as it was blisteringly hot but, even then, the locals were wearing jumpers and winter boots – it was very easy to spot who was a tourist! From there we went to Lake Negratin, to a favourite swimming spot, changed into our costumes and went for a swim. We were the only ones in the water as it was far too cold for the locals – in fact the village swimming pool which I'd hoped we'd be able to use doesn't open in May at all! I was a bit disappointed about that as I'd bought a new swimsuit especially for the trip as I haven't been swimming for about twenty five years and didn't possess one! Well, at least it was christened and the lake was very 'refreshing'! The lake was an amazing turquoise blue that looks Photoshopped in my photos, but it really was that colour and reflected the surrounding mountains beautifully. The light makes everything very sharp and you can see for miles and miles in all directions.

Monday was our first proper day of work and we started by emptying everything out of the main bedroom while Elé went to buy the tiles and adhesive. She brought some back with her – the rest would be delivered by lorry that afternoon – and we set to work using the straight edge of the corridor to line up the first, very important, run of tiles. Jeni and I work well as a team and by lunchtime we had laid the first row and started on a second, checking every few tiles with a spirit level. Elé was very impressed with our first day's work. Then it was back to the house for lunch, a much-needed shower and a short siesta before heading out to one of the many bars in the village for beer and tapas. I'd discovered the hard way that if you only order coffee you don't get free tapas so I had to steel myself to try the local beer in order to 'qualify' for the tapas! Actually, drinking cold lager-type beer on a hot day was not too much of a trial after all (I don't like beer at all, normally) and it was worth it to sample the tapas. Each time you order a beer you get a different tapas and they improve in quality as you progress as an encouragement to stay 'loyal' to one bar. The first one consisted of some strips of ham and some crisps, the second was chorizo and cheese with bread and olive oil and I have to say that I can't remember the third one – perhaps the beer was stronger than I thought?

Starting on the Tuesday morning (at 7.00am) Elé employed a new Spanish builder to dig out the floor levels in the cave. It was no hardship working alongside him as he was mid-thirties, tall, tanned, good-looking with twinkly eyes and worked like a navvie! He was completely blown away by our ability to lay floor tiles as (roughly translated) 'in Spain women look after children and cook'! I think his mind was completely blown when Elé carried on with the tiling after we'd finished for the day and then told him that 'all British women can tile'! Poor guy – he must think we're some sort of super-race! That first day we had to stop tiling to shovel rubble out of the cave and deposit it in the yard but, thankfully, on day 2 he brought along a 'youf' to be his mate and we went back to tiling.

By the time we finished work on Thursday we had laid and grouted all the whole tiles in the main bedroom and part way down the corridor, the plumber had been and sorted out the pipework in the bathroom and Raoul (the builder) and his mate had dug out and shovelled several tonnes of rubble – quite an achievement for just one week.

On Friday we sorrowfully packed the hire car and shut the door on our lovely Spanish house before driving for five hours back to Madrid Airport where we said 'Goodbye' to Elé and Elsabé who were flying back to Heathrow with British Airways. We then had a five hour wait for our Easyjet flight back to Bristol! We finally boarded at 9.30pm (Spanish time) and took off just as the sun was setting, colouring the few clouds a delicate pink and giving us a wonderful view of Madrid and its surroundings as we climbed into the skies.

We were sitting on the port-side of the plane and, heading northwest, we seemed to be surfing the sunset as, all the way home, the horizon was a bright, burning orange with a tiny sliver of moon and a single star above it, that only faded as we dropped below the cloud cover somewhere north of Exeter. At that point we were flying between two layers of cloud, in a dark corridor, unable to be seen from above or below – it made me feel very small and insignificant and as if I didn't really exist anymore outside of this plane. All the rest of the passengers were reading or chatting but I was fascinated by the lights below me and kept saying to Jeni ' Do you think that's Exeter down there, or perhaps Taunton?' 'Can you see a motorway?' She thought it was very funny (and slightly embarrassing) that I was so excited but it's an awfully long time since I was airborne, so I think she forgave me!

Will I go 'international' again? I don't know yet, but I might be persuaded if Jeni comes with me again. After all, she did all the organising and I just turned up with my passport! Thanks, Jeni – it was a wonderful experience!

Jeni tiling in the cave