The Day of the Horse

With all of this Olympic hubris flying about, horsemanship et al, I have begun to recall an event many, many years ago when I found myself in company with a horse. By this, I do not mean standing on one side of a fence with Dobbin safely tethered on the other. No, I mean in the actual presence of a horse, standing right up close and personal to the beast while he restlessly whinnied and his hooves – the diameter of dinner plates – roved about on the ground. Even though there were other people well used to horses in control of him, I was petrified, electrified. Friend, the beast was magnificent, on a scale I had never before witnessed. The ‘dip’ in his back – don’t know the jargon, I’m afraid – was roughly on a level with my head. And at 5’8’’, I don’t stand small. Presently, I got used to this exposure to danger and forgot my fears and began to consider Chappie’s other dimensions; the unbelievable undulation of his flank, the proportionally huge haunches, the preternaturally long legs. I longed to stroke his silky mane but I was in terror of a nip from those teeth – on calculation, I would say the distances from the top of his head to the tip of his nose was at least three feet – more than half my height. Instead, I reached out and tentatively stroked his flank. Once again, I was electrified. Instead of being cold and hard, like the dark-brown, shiny coat suggested, Chappie’s flank was warm, alive, throbbing with the power that had led us, for decades, to define our engines in terms of horsepower. Now, I understood the magical, mystical connotations that, for centuries, attached themselves to horses, why we painted their forms on the walls of caves and carved them on the sides of chalk hills. It was an experience that I will never forget. It was, in a word, awesome. But in spite of his magnificence, the memory of Chappie is sad and sweet. What place does the horse have in this world of super fast trains, planes and sky rockets? In aeons to come, I hope humans remember the beast whose power gave rise to the automated age and continue to find a place for him in their mythology – if mythology hasn’t died out either, that is.

Super Stourhead

The early 1700s' saw a frenzy of stately home building in the English countryside. Merchants and bankers grown wealthy from the proliferation of trade and commerce during the 1600s needed a showcase for their winnings. The Hoare banking family was among this roll-call of the nouveau riche. Their chosen plot was Stourhead in the heart of Wiltshire, England. In 1727, architect Sir Colen Campbell designed and built their Palladian villa. Tradition has it that Henry Hoare II - also known as Henry the Magnificient - designed and laid out the garden of Stourhead so that, from every point of view, it appeared like the idealised landscape of the classical painter.   Stourhead set a precedent for themed parks and gardens that has prevailed in the western world, ever since.
Eighteenth-century Europe was gripped by a frenzy for Neoclassicism, that is, a passion for the reinterpretation of existing classical styles. Because he was a scion of the eighteenth century, Henry Hoare II would most definitely have made the Grand Tour, that almost obligatory trip around France and Italy for every young gentleman of wealth and breeding. Such trips fostered friendships between fellow travellers, laying down social connections for life and engendering tastes in European foods and fashions, art and architecture, tastes that were imported 'back home'. 
Every visitor to Stourhead receives a map of the layout of the garden and all of its features, along with a suggested trail to follow. This is so you can derive the maximum enjoyment from the visit. The trail takes the visitor around the lake - the result of a dammed river - up hill and through forest, over bridge and into tunnel, and past several 'fabriques' or follies; the Temple of Flora, the Grotto, the Pantheon, and others. The garden is structured so that the visitor is always in view of at least one of these features. Tradition has it that these 'Italian' views evoke  the paintings of the artist Claude Gelee, better known as Claude Lorraine (1600-1682). 
In his styling of Stourhead as an idealized slice of Italy, Hoare was buying into another system, that of fashion. The recognisable fabriques of Claude's paintings transformed what could have been merely a pretty piece of wooded land into an entire cultural experience. Nowadays, we are so familiar with themed parks and experiences, that we don't turn a hair when a new one is opened. In the meantime, if you are visiting Stourhead, do not go when it is raining, but wait for the sunshine - and it's well worth it, I promise.

Evoking Classicism: the Wonderful Garrick Temple

David Garrick, ah, the very name evokes classicism, the cadence of eighteenth-century music, the sweep of ladies’ gowns and the swoop of feathers on gentlemen’s hats. Shakespearean actor Garrick built his famous Villa in Hampton in 1754, by the river Thames. Nearby, he built a Temple to house his collection of Shakespeare memorabilia and to celebrate the Bard's genius. With its distinctive octagonal footprint and domed roof, the Temple cannot fail to catch the eye as you sally along the river bank. Once upon terre, the visitor climbs the steps to a front porch or portico, its columns supporting a massive pediment over the entrance door. From where did Garrick get his building references? In the 1700s', there was a surge of interest over ancient Greece and Rome. This was in part due to the Grand Tour, the trip about Europe made by young men of means in order to complete their education. One point of interest was the Villa Rotunda, begun by Andrea Palladio in 1567. Palladio based his Villa on that Roman landmark, the Pantheon. The form is quite simple; a round building or 'rotonda' fronted by a portico of Corinthian columns supporting a pediment. In spite of the simplicity of the design - or maybe because of it - the Pantheon captured the imagination of architects all over Europe and North America. The Garrick Temple is not so grand, of course. The roof is domed and its three Queen Anne windows overlook the river. Inside, a statue of Shakespeare by the French sculptor Roubiliac, is set into an alcove in the wall opposite the entrance door. The walls are hung with paintings linked to the life and work of David Garrick, several of them by Johan Zoffany. In normal times, you can see the inside of the Temple every Sunday afternoon from April to October. At present, opening hours are irregular. But the garden in which it is situated is open daily from dawn to dusk, all the year around. The exterior alone, in its exquisite riverside location, is well worth seeing. Overall, there is an air of the unexpected about the place, as if Portia might suddenly appear on the portico - or the stirrings in nearby bushes presage the appearance of Puck. If you are in or near Hampton this summer, do try to see it.

The Power of the Humble Tomato

For years, my friends and I waged a war of words over the 'fruit or veg?' issue surrounding the tomato, a war that has never been resolved. It matters not. I have always had a thing for this juicy, fleshy semi-sweet little number. Every summer while on the beach, our long-suffering Mum and aunts would transform a sliced loaf, a pat of yellow butter and a heap of the red fruits into a pile of sandwiches for us to tuck into. Since then, biting into a freshly-made tomato sandwich evokes those lazy, hazy childhood summers. And even back then, I was surprised at how energy-boosting those small snacks were. Two or three tomato sandwiches could fuel an excursion into the ice-cold Atlantic, participation in a ball game, a walk along the cliff tops, and a final swim before leaving the beach. As the years have gone by, I have watched as the proven health benefits of these shiny, scarlet (and yellow and purple) wonders are box-ticked, one by one. Like all fruits, tomatoes contain natural sugars, the source of all of our beach-time energy. Tomatoes are also rich in Vitamin C.
The Bioflavinoids
The typical colouring of the tomato indicates the presence of a group of compounds called the bioflavinoids, or flavones, flavonals and flavonoids. They work in conjunction with Vitamin C to repair and strengthen cell membranes and capillary walls. This process is essential for the production of collagen, the 'stuff' that skin is made of, and for the efficient healing of wounds. These benefits alone would make the tomato a powerhouse of nutrition, but these fruits have other powerful qualities.
A Taste for Paste
Not too long ago, I watched a television programme in which a number of people were required to eat a certain amount of tomato paste, every day. Tomato paste is processed from fresh tomatoes, and is used as pizza topping and to enhance the flavour and texture of other, tomato-based dishes. A 'control' group of people did not consume any of the tomato product. After twelve weeks, all of the subjects including the control group in the experiment were subjects to burst of ultraviolet light, the same wavelengths of light that are responsible for sunburn and the ageing of skin, in natural sunlight.
Skin Protection
The clinicians conducting the experiment then looked for certain chemical 'markers' in the skins of all of the subjects. These markers indicated the presence, or not, of changes in the skin due to ultraviolet exposure. The tomato-eaters of the group had up to 30% less of the marker than the skins of the control group. The experiment was repeated and the results came back...the same. At this point, I shouted and punched the air. Not only had I and my family gloried in our beach holidays; we had been protecting our skins from the sun. As the years went by, we became more sophisticated and discovered sun-factor creams. But I not sure that our natural, low-grade protection which also allows sunlight to trigger the production of Vitamin D, wasn't healthier than being covered in chemical-laden sun product? Scientists are still unsure why tomatoes offer this protection from sunlight, but one strong suspect is an anti-oxidant called lycopene. Anti-oxidants are chemicals that slow down the oxidization of lipids, or fats and oils, in the body. They do this by 'mopping up' unstable oxygen molecules and becoming oxidized themselves.
Naughty and Nice
Cooking actually helps to release lycopene from the 'cells' of the tomato plant. So, devouring pizza or trimming your fries with tomato ketchup is actually good for your skin - awesome! I am not the world's greatest cook but I cannot bow out of this feature without advising readers of a delicious and nutritious dish. Sift two cups of self-raising flour and a teaspoon of salt into a bowl. Rub in one ounce of soft margarine until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Stir in a tablespoonful of basil (dried will suffice) one cup of drained, sundried tomatoes and half a cup of milk. Turn the dough onto a floured surface. Knead very lightly and roll it into a rectangle. Cut it into 2-inch squares. Arrange the squares on a floured baking sheet, and brush their tops with milk. Put them into an oven that has been preheated to 200 C/400 F/Gas 6, and bake for twelve to fifteen minutes. So there you go - so simple that even I can do it. And proof that everything nice doesn't have to be illegal, immoral or fattening!!

Masks and Masking

With masks and masking being very “in” at the minute, I thought that it was time to revisit the sixteenth century, Shakespeare’s day, in fact. In his play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Flute says to Quince: Nay, faith, let me not play a woman, I have a beard coming, (Act One, Scene II, 43-45) Quince replies That’s all one. You shall play it in a mask. In Shakespeare’s day, masks were not just for actors, it seems. Women wore them generally, especially while out of doors in the summer, to protect their complexions. Ah, I love that. Those Elizabethans were a funny lot, when you think about it. On the one hand, ladies courted poisoning by covering their (indoor) faces in white lead in order to appear pale and beautiful. On the other hand, they were aware of the deleterious effects of the sun on the complexion – but every age has its contradictions and paradoxes. Now, we are masking for another, very serious purpose. Whatever, pay attention to style as you mask - see above!

Never cast a clout....

As someone who is still wearing her winter woollies at almost the end of May, I have never poured such endorsement upon that old adage. As I write this however, the sunshine pours in the window and I believe we may be seeing the beginning of summer, at last. Whatever, it is interesting to note that summer hasn’t always been the red-hot demon that we have come to experience it as, this past number of years. For example, consider this extract from Titania’s speech to Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream:
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land
Have every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents:
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn
Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green
For lack of tread are undistinguishable:
The human mortals want their winter here;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest:
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound:
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter:
But do read this speech from Act 2, Scene 1 of the play. Experts believe that Shakespeare and his peers may have been experiencing the rougher end of the Little Ice Age, a period of cooler weather that covered Europe from about the mid-1300’s to the mid-1800’s. It was that time when, in winter, bonfires were lit upon the frozen Thames and skating parties abounded. Great fun, I am sure, but this inclemency extended to cooler, wetter summers. But the sun is still shining and I intend to make my first salad of the season. And my winter jackets, etc, may find their way to the back of the wardrobe, after all.

Finding a slice of the cheese market.

Almost exactly eight years’ ago, I reported on a Guardian editorial (April 20, 2013) that explored the possibility of building a British, cheese-based economy. On churning over the matter, I lauded the idea as a good one. I wrote the following:
“There is so much already in place (in Britain); the land, the rainfall, the herds, the people, and cheese districts like Stilton and Cheddar. What is more, our grazing pastures and herds of cattle cannot be salted off abroad. This is in contrast to the manufacturing sector where moneymaking enterprises are routinely carted to faraway places. Another plus is that agri-businesses can be distributed throughout Blighty in ways that compartmentalised sectors like finance cannot. Just think of young people flocking to courses in stock husbandry, dairy culture, nutrition, cheese cuisine, marketing, branding, advertising – OK. We got those already, but this would be marketing with a twist – a cheesy twist, you might say. And just think of the spin-offs; the mountains of crackers and biscuits, the olives and bottles of wine, the cheese tastings and fondue parties – we might even knock the Swiss off their mountain perch. So, how about milking this idea for all it is worth, leaders? My mouth is watering already!”
Well, what goes around comes around and a few days ago, the same newspaper reported that the cheese business is booming, yes, booming, thanks to a number of factors, the lockdown included. And with it, the attendant rise in cheese futures' investment. At production level, well done to those of you who found a slice of the cheese market. The remainder of us will go on maturing for a while, yet. https://www.theguardian.com/money/2021/apr/28/cheese-futures-could-we-all-make-millions-by-investing-in-cheddar