Sometimes, you just need to get away: from the demands of keeping a home and garden; from work commitments and away, I would argue, from our mundane selves. When we change our context, everything seems possible.
The thing I love most about a holiday is that it gives us time and permission to dream. We needn’t go far or for long, but we do need to enter into an unfamiliar landscape where our senses are challenged and stimulated.
Our few days in Battle did just that. The stunning landscape of the grounds of the hotel provided endless vistas to nourish our very souls; the delightful town offered both history and humour. Here’s a little taste of our days away.
The storm breaks
Interestingly, the high pressure building for days in the terrible heat broke the day before we left. It felt like a metaphor for our lives. All the stresses that had been building over the last few months felt washed away in the thundering rain.
We woke to a new world, bright and fresh and alive.
It was still hot, but bearably so. For once, an outdoor, unheated swimming pool in the UK was tempting and my husband and I took full advantage of it. We also lounged like normal people do on holiday (our family holidays invariable involve death defying activities or cultural investigations), so it was truly relaxing.
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
I read a novel, wrote my morning pages and finished The Artist’s Way (more on that next week). We ate fish and chips on the steps of Battle Abbey and I imagined all the history that had passed by this place.
With the exception of checking to see if we had a new prime minister, the news was banished. Our time was taken up instead in watching the world and languid conversations.
Life is more sociable with a dog
Hermione was, of course, a star. She introduced us to so many people that I couldn’t count them all. At one pub, where we were having dinner, I’m sure she was patted and fussed by every single person. In doing so, she opened us up to new encounters with lovely folk, who told their stories and we ours.
Perhaps we need a furry creature to break the barriers of shyness or polite behaviour. The English are normally so reserved, but bring a dog into the equation and they are positively voluble.
One lady, having given Hermione a good belly rub said enigmatically, ‘I needed that.’ Because sometimes, we just need to show affection and have the warmth of a positive response to make us feel human again. Who knows what was troubling her, but I’m glad that Hermione could give her a little respite.
A not too perfect life
Our hotel, the weather, everything was verging on perfection. One would expect this to be a good thing, but sadly it was not. Friendly dog patters aside, the hotel had its share of rather grumpy and miserable looking folks: couples who barely spoke to one another; people complaining of the ‘conference coffee’ served at breakfast; and even I fell into grumbling at the buzz of lawn mowers disturbing our peace. I was also feeling a bit frustrated by all my husband’s long walks with the dog and early morning swims in the pool. Why, I wailed inwardly, could I not join him? I hate this stupid disease.
Yes, I had a mini pity party. Then I looked down at my breakfast plate and saw the abundance of delicious food; looked up and saw the glorious grounds; looked across at my super husband and dog. Hmm. How quickly we fall prey to the idea that the world should serve us absolutely. How quickly, when life is almost perfect, does the slightest thing annoy.
It was time to recalibrate, because I realised that the reason the wealthy are often the most miserable is precisely because, like Tantalus, all they want is just beyond. But unlike Tantalus, it is not because they can’t reach food or drink, but rather that no sooner have they grasped it than they want something more, something better. As Westerners, we are all guilty of this to some degree.
Having acknowledged this truth and deciding to keep gratitude always at the centre of my thoughts, I went on a long walk around the lake that very evening. I managed to go much further than I thought possible and unusually did not suffer the exhaustion and burning in my legs that usually follows such exertions. Perhaps, having rested all day, I was better prepared, or perhaps, the universe was showing its approval.
History and humour
One can hardly go to Battle without thinking of history. The place is steeped in it: from the imposing Medieval Abbey to the half timbered Elizabethan dwellings to the elegant, symmetrical Georgian homes. This visit, I had vowed to explore the church opposite the Abbey and of almost equal antiquity. The Abbey had brought considerable wealth and prestige to the area and with it a burgeoning population. This church was where they could go to worship.
Founded 1115, it is classically Norman. It’s beautiful vaulted ceilings with dark beams and plain, pillared arches either side of the nave typify what we think of as an early Medieval church. But I suspect that the churchgoers of the Medieval period had a rather more lively prospect. High above on the left (facing the altar) are faded but once vivid frescoes. No doubt there were more, providing a sumptuous, visual feast for all those attending.
Ironically, the church now provides a respite from the onslaught of image and colour that we all face. The only real touches of colour are supplied by exquisitely executed kneelers with local and historic scenes.
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
And lastly, I am delighted to note that aside from its seriously impressive history, this small town has a wonderful sense of humour. Each season, the yarn bombers do their best to add a little colour and whimsey. This month, in line with the scarecrow festival, they have produced my favourite scarecrow- Ariyarna Grande.
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat
Immersed for a few days in such exceptional surroundings made me focus on the thread of history and how it weaves through all our lives. This history was expressed through creativity: of magnificent architecture, painting, tapestry and yes, even yarn bombing. All took skill, all took mastery of an art form and all took patience. For the events of history are past, but the work of the artist as it responds and responds again to changing times, lives on.
Wonderful blog, Karen – many thanks. Some excellent points to remember in there. I feel the same way about the importance of having a change of scene occasionally
I’m glad you named the scarecrow – I didn’t realise she was singing into a microphone, I thought she was swigging from a can of beer!
You can take the girl out of Dagenham…..
Glad you enjoyed it Wendy and that I clarified the scarecrow’s occupation!! I love mini holidays – less stress and more fun!