Inspiration – Sam Russell

Farm and Family Life, Inspiration, Our Barn Conversion

All White? #plainbarny

March 29, 2018by Sam RussellLeave a Comment

It was meant to be a non-decision (or decision-avoidance): “I’ll have all the walls white!” There √ One less thing to think about.

As if.

Brilliant white is a non-runner (unless we’re keen to wear sunglasses all day) so what I needed was a nice off-white (it’s white-with-a-hint-of-pretentious again) and, damn it, I’m back on that keyboard with the internet leading me deep into the un-murky world of white paint and showing me how very beautiful my house could be if I just concentrate.

Ultra-matt, flat-matt, sheeny or shiny?

Wipeable, washable or guaranteed durable?

Trade, artisan or posh-bird?

Cool-whites, warm-whites or neutral-whites (eh)? Oh, hang on, apparently it depends which way my windows are facing…

I’ll be needing two whites then: Warm tones, ‘based on reds and earthy-browns’, for those north-facing, cold rooms, and cool whites ‘based on greens, greys or blues’ for my south-facing sun traps…

…or possibly three – tepid tones (based on sludgy non-colours?) for those indecisive, open-plan rooms which face every-bloody-which-way. And what about east and west?

Just when I think I’m on my way to resolving this dilemma I start picking up paint charts and find there are hundreds, nay, thousands (nay, millions?) of whites out there. And, even when I’ve worked out that posh-bird paint would cost almost as much as the windows, Dulux Trade promise they can match every single one! Oh, joy.

I tried typing ‘make the decision for me’ into Google, but alas, Google was as confused as I. I bought tester pots based on whether I the name of a paint caught my fancy (frankly, some of those paint manufacturers play fast and loose with the word ‘white’) and I painted bits of wood to test in various locations.

Then the builders needed the paint, so I panicked and ordered 60 litres of two completely untested shades which had been recommended by an unknown interior designer on some random blog I’d read weeks ago.

Flat matt (I don’t like shiny)

Wipeable, washable and guaranteed durable please (farmers, dogs and wet Essex clay). I’m making the right decision here, aren’t I?

Trade (an actual non-decision. Glory be!)

They were right about taking account of which way the windows face though:

This is ‘Timeless’:

And this is ‘Clouded Pearl 3’ (that number must be important.)

Two paints, a multitude of shades and I fink they look all wight!

Farm and Family Life, Inspiration, Our Barn Conversion

Plain Barny; what I’ve learnt this year.

January 25, 2018by Sam RussellLeave a Comment

1. It takes a hell of a lot of pipes and wires to feed the desires of a 21st century lifestyle.

Honestly, you’d have to see it to believe it. There’s barely a foot of internal wall that hasn’t got services running through it.

There are pipes to the multiple bathrooms with their twin-headed showers, heated towel rails, baths, bogs and basins. Underfloor heating throughout; a water softener to extend the life of machines which will wash our crockery and smalls. There will be iced water piped from the fridge… and boiling water on tap. A proliferation of flushing, washing and draining that must all be carried away (through even more pipes) to a 21st century, biodigesting sewerage tank (no mains drainage here on the farm) with a pump (electrically powered) to aerate our sewerage and encourage the growth of shit-munching bacteria.

Funny old world. Nice segue onto electrics.

We’ve got three double sockets in each of two offices and a kitchen that’s wired to cook up a banquet. Pendant… wall… recessed… and outside lighting with two-way, three-way (and four-way?) switches. There’s TV cable to all of the bedrooms (although we’ve never, ever watched telly in bed – future proofing for laziness), Ethernet cable to multiple rooms and USB sockets littered throughout the building to enable the charging of gadgets. There will be pumps for the showers (essential given our water pressure, or lack thereof) and illuminating bathroom mirrors (becoming essential given our middle-aged eyesight, or lack thereof).

This all must have come as something of a shock to our water-less, powerless, little old 19th century barn (it came as a shock to me and I planned it). I guess 19th century farmers must have just downed their tools in the dark days of winter. There’s progress for you 😉 Goodness knows how they charged their phones.

It seems the complexity of wires in our build is even getting to the electrician. He thinks he saw a kangaroo outside.

I imagine he’s regretted saying that out loud, the piss-taking has been ruthless.

2. The dog likes to eat plaster.

Who knew that gypsum was a canine delicacy?

3. Stairs are complicated

That 15k quote has begun to make sense. The Farmer and the Engineer carried out endless mathematical calculations. They drew diagrams, built models, welded, tweaked, sweated and swore over stairs Mk I…

… before dismantling them and starting again.

But stairs Mk II are looking good! They’ve got as far as being tested in situ and, yes, they fit!

Impressive, huh? Still to be fine-tuned and some rough edges for smoothing but the dog and I are very much looking forward to losing that bloody ladder.

Farm and Family Life, Inspiration, Rustic Guests

Rustic Spooks

October 29, 2017October 29, 2017by Sam Russell1 Comment

Our patch of the countryside has its share of loitering spirits and ghostly legends. The stories shared by down-to-earth, country folk who are oft inclined to cynicism, which makes their recounting all the more chilling.

hadstock

In the neighbouring village where I grew up the spirit of a desolate vicar was known to haunt the church. His only son had perished in an outbreak of cholera which claimed the lives of many villagers. The source of the outbreak was traced to the churchyard well and it was believed that the water had been contaminated by sewerage run off from the vicarage.

In the depths of guilt and despair, the vicar sealed the door to the chancel which he and his son had used. The door remains closed to this day, and only the vicar’s tormented spirit has passed through it since.

Following a spate of sightings in the early eighties (including an incident in which the church warden’s dog greeted and jumped up at an invisible being, resting its paws on apparent thin air) a service was conducted to offer our restless spirit forgiveness and eternal peace.

Control Tower

A more recent ghost is the headless airman who thumbs a lift on the road which passes alongside our farmland. Once a USAAF airfield, legend has it that if you glance in your rear view mirror as you drive across the ‘drome you may see him sitting behind you.

The lady from whom we brought this farm was a sharp, forthright sort with a no-nonsense outlook on life. She had purchased the land and the Tudor farmhouse from the War Ministry when the airfield was decommissioned, and she recounted to me that when viewing the property she had clearly seen the ghost of an American Airman hanging from the farmhouse rafters.

Tudor Farmhouse

Whatever she saw that day must have seriously scared her because she demolished that farmhouse and built a new one further along the lane.

I could go on. It seems every pub in the nearest town has a resident spook… Cromwell’s mistress, a maid known as Nellie Ketteridge… and that’s before you travel on to the mansion house…

audleyend_ghosts_2sm

Take care out there people!

Chewing the Cud, Farm and Family Life, Inspiration

Rustic Nostalgia

September 15, 2017September 16, 2017by Sam Russell1 Comment

I wrote a post about corn dollies a couple of weeks ago and it inspired a very old friend of mine to Google the infant school teacher she and I both remembered so fondly.

Here’s us, back in the day.

class pic 1970 — My friend is second from left. I’m not in, it I must have taken the photo.

CCI_000003 (2) — That’s me on with the grin and friend diving behind me. (We actually got drummed out of the Brownies but that’s a whole other story.)

I wanted to include a picture here of the very first book I wrote. It was part of a trilogy entitled Walks Along the River Bourne. But I’ve wasted too much time hunting for it in the attic and come away with only a cobweb cardigan. I’m sorry, you’re missing a treat it was beautifully bound with original artwork on the cover 🙂 Self-published, of course. By an 8 year old.

Anyhoo, I digress. One thing led to another, and we arranged to get together to revisit old haunts of our primary years and retrace our steps along the river Bourne, where we’d spent so many happy hours.

We set off on our hike, and immediately lost our way because the beautifully descriptive print-out of the route was rather too wordy for our basic navigation skills (and we were gabbing too much to concentrate).

“… passing hedges, into the next field, through another hedge, the path turns left on a walkable field-edge beside a hedge of hawthorn [a confusion of hedges].The heavier clay of this side of the parish can make it heavy going in wet seasons. But it’s a pleasant downhill trek through a gap over a rather wobbly stile [we never found the stile] into a long, narrow slipe of a meadow, then over a step-stile [nor this one] into a bigger meadow and down to a little footbridge…”

The directions got waylaid in the wonderfully detailed wording, and some of the landmarks had changed:

“Passing the last cottage, go through the gate, closing it carefully as there may be stock in the meadow. The high bank may be the lynchet of the old lane. This is a fine spacious meadow dotted with oaks, populated by rabbits, with views of distant wooded hills…”

Ploughed… but still a view of distant wooded hills.

It didn’t matter to us. We found ‘our’ river Bourne.

And remembered, and played silly buggers on the fallen logs… just like back in the day. We even took a selfie in front of our primary school.

Here’s to rustic nostalgia, a lovely day and the dear old friends who keep us young. I don’t think we’ve changed at all.

Chewing the Cud, Farm and Family Life, Inspiration, Our Barn Conversion, Self-publishing, Writing Romance

Writer’s total lack of inspiration

Featuredby Sam Russell3 Comments

Ah, book three. It’s not so much a question of ‘will it get finished’ as ‘will it ever get started?’

I’ve dropped right out of the habit of sitting and writing this summer. There are a lot of reasons for that. My physical fitness is back after years of being limited by a dodgy hip and subsequent surgery. There’s a puppy in the house to make full use of my time (and my resurrected walking skills) and we’re converting a barn on the farm to be our new forever-home, which is keeping me mentally occupied and absorbing every drop of my creative thinking juices.

Jodie the horse

I’m walking and riding and project mismanaging… I’m loving the time away from my desk. I’ve shed half a stone just by being more active (author’s bottom be gone!) and in my downtime, I’m reading lots of lovely books that other people have written. (It’s so much easier than writing one yourself).

I’m asking myself some deep and meaningful questions:

Does it matter if you never write another book? (Answer: No, not a jot.)
Will your finances be adversely affected if you give up writing? (Answer: No. The opposite is true, in fact.)
Do you want your author’s bottom back? (I don’t need to tell you the answer to that one).
Does anyone but you give a fig whether you’re writing or not? (Answer: Yes and No. A dozen or so people do. I was accosted this week at an Uncle Funk gig by a couple of ~~mates~~ avid fans of my Draymere Hall Series who wanted to know when the next book would be out (Er, probably not this week). That happens surprisingly often and I’m always terribly flattered. But, contrarily, the Farmer is happy that I’m back in the real world; that there’s dinner on the table and the washing is getting done).
So… WILL THERE BE ANOTHER? (Answer: Hell, yes! Just don’t ask me why. Or when.)

I know there’s another book in there. In fact, I’ve started several…

A tentative foray into detective stories with a nerdy (female) PI and a dollop of quirky love interest.
A WWII historical Anglo-American romance set on a USAAF airbase.
Another Draymere Hall romance (with Zoe as the heroine, you’ll have met her if you’ve read Brambles. You know, the one who worked with Hettie… one of Julian’s ‘volunteers’.)
A brand-spanking-new contemporary romance series.
A complete departure from any genre, with a narrator who’s already dead…

Dear Lord. What I need to have written is several K words of one book, not one k words of several. Is it any wonder I’m in a muddle?

I’ll pick it up in the autumn.

Oh, hang on, that’s today.

But the sun’s still shining and I must walk the puppy down to the barn. There’s a tractor parked up outside with my name on it and I’m riding this afternoon…

Maybe this winter, then. Watch this space (but not with too much anticipation).

Chewing the Cud, Farm and Family Life, Inspiration

Corn Dollies

August 25, 2017August 25, 2017by Sam Russell6 Comments

You don’t often see them now, but the culmination of harvest this week and an article in NFU Countryside magazine on how to make them set me to reminiscing about the art of corn dolly creation.

In my early rural-school years we had a teacher who wove corn dollies as she taught. She sat in a battered armchair in the corner of the classroom and her hands rarely stilled as she counselled us in the ways of nature, with an old-country wisdom which resonates with me to this day.

I recall that the different dollies had meanings and potencies and that the spirit of the corn was encased in their form. Mrs Homewood crafted works of some intricacy whilst the class had a go at the simple, spiral ‘drop dollies’ (with mixed results!)

Some are traditional to an area, named after counties and places.

CambridgeshireHandbell — … and this one’s a Cambridgeshire Handbell.

Plump, comfortably dressed and slightly dishevelled, Mrs Homewood made a greater impression on me than even gorgeous, blonde, Miss Ford from my city-infant class who let me brush her long hair and handed out sweets from the drawer of her desk. I thought Mrs Homewood was ancient, but she lived on for decades after I left so that must have been an illusion of youth. I wonder if she was actually a pagan goddess of nature, even the name fits!

Our classes were often conducted outside (whatever the weather) and we walked the length of the village river to study the life and nature of its twisting path. I certainly knew what a tributary was long before I could spell it. Our very own forest school (before forest schools re-emerged as a trendy ‘new’ idea) but do not be misled into thinking that Mrs Homewood was saintly. Oh no. She chased one of the boys with a bunch of stinging nettles (he was chasing us girls with the same) and when a classmate told her he’d been stung by a bee she offered no sympathy.

‘Poor bee. You do know that he’ll die now?’

The varieties of wheat we grow today have stalks too short for successful dolly making. It’s been cultured that way to prevent the crop falling and to accommodate combine harvesters. But maybe I should give it a try anyway…

The dolly should be kept over winter and laid in the first turned furrow of the plough to set the spirit of the corn free again. Bless Mrs Homewood, whose spirit is free now too, bless all the teachers who shaped us and the spirit of the corn which makes our bread.

Farm and Family Life, Inspiration, Our Barn Conversion

Barny Update

August 18, 2017by Sam RussellLeave a Comment

I realise it’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted progress on our barn conversion and I’m not sure why, given that it’s steaming ahead and I’m rarely thinking about/talking about/looking at anything else!

I was hoping to do a ‘poll’ on here to ask readers opinions on a few of the crucial design decisions I’ve been grappling with, but the technicality of WordPress plug-ins beat me so I made the decisions myself (which is probably what I would have done anyway.)

So… we’ve opted for black for the interiors of the window frames (which still feels nerve-wrackingly brave!) Windows ordered, so no going back now.

… and black metal stairs (if I can source some we can afford).

After veering away from a tin roof in fear of noise and heat a last-minute U-turn returned us to traditional corrugated steel (also ordered).

And those of you who follow me on Facebook or Twitter will know that we’ve chosen gorgeous Western Red Cedar for our exterior cladding.

(Only ours will be horizontal feather-edge. God, doesn’t cedar smell gorgeous!)

Our house won’t be as trendy as those in the pictures, we don’t have the flair or the budget, but I’m still collecting ideas-above-my-station and pictures of stuff I can’t afford over on Pinterest.

I’m trying to design the kitchen now, ahead of electrical wires and plumbing pipes being laid through floors and walls, and I thought I’d settled my bathroom but I’m in a dilemma over whether to place a freestanding bath in front of the window or offset to the side (first world problems, I know):

(Yes, the glass will be clear but there are only fields out there. I might provide a blind for the coy). Your opinions are welcome (but please know that I’ll probably ignore them).

Back in the real world, the builders are hard at it creating partition walls, inserting noggins for plasterboard and crafting beautiful lead-work…

They’re about to start wrapping the whole package in a breathable membrane and scaffold for the roof work arrives in a fortnight.

Our little Chaff House is forming (and hasn’t the dog got big!)

Inspiration, Rustic Guests

Rustic Guest Alison Howell – Walking the Cotswolds

August 4, 2017August 4, 2017by Sam RussellLeave a Comment

Alison is the founder of Foot Trails, a specialist travel company crafting custom independent walking tours in the South West of England.

It’s a beautiful, inspiring part of the country (and the setting for my Draymere Hall romances, of course!)

I’ve been lucky enough to visit many times but Alison could tempt me back with her wonderful walking tours.

Let’s have that cuppa first, and let Alison tell us about her world.

Walking the Cotswolds

At this time of year the fields of barley (with its long wispy delicate whiskers) and wheat are starting to turn and ripen. Barley changes beautifully from its vibrant green to a light beige. And wheat, standing tall and proudly as it does in the fields to a golden hue.

The sight of both crops growing whisks me instantly back to my childhood on the farm. I remember (with fondness and probably rose tinted spectacles) the seemingly endless flurry of activity from early in the morning until late into the night. Tractor drivers, trailers and my father, driving the machines and combine harvester to race against the unpredictable British weather. This will soon be underway.

We would pack frozen ice lolly’s in newspaper and rush them to the fields to keep my father cool in the heat of the dry dusty work that is harvest.

Back on today’s trail I am lulled soothingly by the sway and movement of the crops.

We are in the Cotswolds. We, my husband and our Guide and Trail Creator, David, our children (who often accompany us on trail checks and have learnt much over the years, Molly, Foot Trails mascot and our Cavalier King Charles.)

There have been recent reports of logging on one of our trails and we are here to assess the situation and see if we need to re-route the trail.

Long views of green, mellow fields and impossibly inviting villages stretch out in front of us.

Out here the crowds, throngs and coaches of visitors seem miles away.

Village life is blissfully slower paced and simple. We walk, we talk we pause at the village shop café for Americano coffees, ice cream and a cream tea. We study the map and ponder the route directions on the trail card.

By the side of the fields wild Poppies are thrown around by the breeze. Their heads of delicate and strongly hued petals dancing.

We partake enthusiastically in the obligatory choosing and discussion of which would be the cottage we would most love to live in. There are several contenders. We admire their stone porches, elaborate chimney pots and quiet locations.

The Cotswolds are such a distinct area to walk in. Clues of its geography are everywhere. In the stone walls, skilfully put together by hand without cement, they mark boundaries and keep in sheep and live stock. And by the buildings, churches, built in the trade mark local stone.

We reach the point of the logging and instantly see what needs to be done. A few tweaks and changes are spoken into our Dictaphone and the new directions are recorded. Soon to be written into trail cards and feature in trips for guests from around the world to enjoy.

I reflect on my life as the sun beams enthusiastically through a gap in the trees in front of me. For 15 years Foot Trails has been the product of my life work. What began as a dream, a vision to inspire people to walk rural England in a way that was authentic and meaningful has grown and developed in ways I could not then imagine.

But one thing has remained. The simple act of walking and the pleasure it brings. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, repeatedly and letting our feet take us on a journey. Sometimes to places known sometimes to places new. It matters not. The world our feet let us see always holds something fresh and new if we look closely enough. A view, a season, a feel, weather….

Years ago we chose the phrase walking England’s rural canvas to sum up what it is we do at Foot Trails. It seems more apt than ever.

I am still inspired by walking. In many ways more than I ever was. I hope through our efforts, passions and goals you too will discover not only beautiful places like here in the Cotswolds, but gain a perspective of life that sustains and inspires you.

This post was originally shared on Alison’s Foot Trails blog where you can also read more of Alison’s Story (and book a wonderful holiday off the beaten track!)

@howell_alison

@FootTrailsUK

Facebook.com/FootTrails

Farm and Family Life, Inspiration, Our Barn Conversion

Trusses and purlins and joists… Ooh, look at that view!

July 11, 2017by Sam Russell3 Comments

We’ve got them all in the barn, but I struggle to pinpoint exactly which one is which. The line “Run that by me again…” has become a response that I use to delay while I try to work out which bit of the jigsaw the builders are talking about.

I do know that the wood is beautiful. I just love the symmetry of it, the airiness and the different views through the lines of the structure. Craft with purpose. It was sad when the plywood went up, screening the skeleton of the building from sight.

But the barn does begin to look more like a house.

And with the arrival of those mahusive steels that I told you about…

… the big build reached first-floor level. The builders are eyeing the roof now and the timber discussions are becoming ever more complicated. Trusses and purlins and joists, lintels and collars and plates…

It’s a relief to talk about bricks for a change.

I know what they are, they’re Cambridge Whites. I knew the barn they belonged to as well. The Farmer probably had a den inside its walls, back in the eighties, before the building was demolished.

We had to move this beast to extract our bricks from their 30-year hiding place:

And their reuse has justified The Farmers belief that you should never chuck anything away (damn it).

My bricks are beautiful too, but nature wins the day and it’s the views out of our soon-to-be windows that really take my breath away.

Inspiration, Lots of Pots, Rustic Guests

A little Sunday morning peace — Lots of Pots

July 3, 2017July 3, 2017by Sam RussellLeave a Comment

Early on a Sunday morning. Allotment peace. Sparrows chirp I can hear a skylark The purple flowered beans have tiny, curled up baby beans on them. Smaller than my little fingernail. There is a stiff breeze-( What a weird expression! Where does it come from?) – it rustles the trees and hedges and helps it […]

via A little Sunday morning peace… — Lots of Pots