Jane Austen's House

Post our fantastic evening with Fake That, Mrs F wanted to prolong our quality time together.

I didn't fancy a spa day, I'm too fidgety to enjoy it, so I suggested winging it.  Mrs F suggested afternoon tea, which is, in my humble opinion always a winner.  

We took a drive through the Hampshire countryside and we came across a little treasure of a place, Jane Austen's house.  

We were able to meander around the house and learn all about Jane and her family. 

The house was owned by Jane's brother, who was the heir to a local land owner (I wasn't able to find out why he inherited the entire estate.  The best guess was that he was just lucky).  

The first room we arrived in was a cinema, which told a potted history of Jane and her family's life before and up to them arriving at the house in Steventon.  

Following that we visited the kitchen and it was there we found an invite to make our own lavender pouches (using locally produced lavender) and use a quill to write a letter, Jane used a quill to write all of her novels. It must have been a very long and dirty process, I wrote a note to GO which took me ages and was very messy.  

After that Mrs F and I tried on some period costumes and bonnets, it was an era that had a style of dress that was most flattering. We both looked very elegant and regal...

We made our way into the rooms of all the family members, we saw the actual table and chair Jane sat at while writing her novels.  

In the library the society which ran the house had collected Janes by Jane in languages from across the globe, books about Jane, her family and the stories she had written.  They had graphic novels, woollen versions and hardback copies for babies.

As we looked across the street we saw a little tea room, feeling a bit peckish we headed over for a spot of afternoon tea and a bit of a heart to heart.

It was a lovely end to a weekend that I will not forget in a very long time.

Fake That

Not long after Mrs F had my goddaughter  we (she, bless her) began planning a girlie night out for us.  All over the hotels and country clubs host evenings where you have a meal, watch a tribute act and then boogy the night away. 

Before I got married we went to Bury and watched an Abba tribute which was brilliant. Keen to recreate we booked ourselves a table at a Fake That evening in Hampshire.  For weeks we plotted and planned.  "What are you wearing?"  "What time are you getting here?"  "Shall we book a spa day or an afternoon tea?"   I was beyond excited by the time Friday rolled around.  

I had spent the morning in a nursery where I just sat and played all day.  We left the (God)daughter in the capable hands of her father and headed off. We checked into the hotel and say chatting before we realised that we had twenty minutes to get ready.

Then we set off, we chatted animatedly the entire journey, the taxi driver even joined in, he recommended the place as he had taken plenty of people there, but couldn't say much about the act.We were among the first to arrive, we surveyed the scene and chose our seats, we thought we had the best position in the house, table 1 and we had the the seats facing the stage.

As the table was a table for 12 and we were only two, we knew we would be sharing with others.  Slowly but surely they all began to arrive.  The couple from Bognor, he was a builder she cleaned medical/surgical implements (who knew that was a job).  Two ladies from the area just (like us) on a girlie night out.  Another local couple, the wife it emerged had gone to school with the medical supply cleaner, so they spent the entire night reminiscing and talking about people they knew.  At one point when Mrs F had left the table I felt like I knew these people and was engrossed in the comings and going of June and Mike and their many, many, many children.  Finally a foursome arrived, dolled up to the nines, dripping in designer gear and already on the way to having a great night. A group of Essex marrieds on a get together before they all went skiing in Chamonix (this is not me being jealous this is actually what they were doing).

The food arrived and was delicious, but as with all mass catering there just wasn't enough, I patiently sat and waited for the extra vegetables to arrives, before realising that they were hidden under the chicken.  

Then the show began, the singing was good, but the lads didn't look anything like our boys in take that.  Not that I was expecting them too, but I think some people were. They put on a strange show, but very quickly managed to get most of the ladies on the dance floor and at one point dipped into a kind of hen do/stripperesque mode.  We all had a giggle and a dance.  Then as the show began to wind down, we dashed to the ladies to make the most of the lull in the crowds.  It was during Mrs F's that there was a bit of a rumble coming from the audience in the corner, before I could work out what was happening a streaker ran across the room, jumped over the barrier and was on the stage wriggling and jiggling along with the group.  The crowd went wild, he was escorted away by security and the guys carried on regardless.  Mrs F returned to her seat curious at to what had just occurred.   It was a fantastic evening, we had so much fun, we laughed and danced until they had to turn the lights back on.  Roll on the next night out.

Out on a school night!

It's Wednesday evening, the final of the Great British Bakeoff is on, the Cat school have an inspection tomorrow, and GO is on the sofa with a cold (second in four weeks) and where am I? I'm at the bus stop waiting for the U1 to take me to town.  

I'm meeting up with my Check Friend, we're going to celebrate Wine Wednesday in style at the Randolph hotel.  We're going to have a good old gossip.  The last time we did this we discovered a mutual interest in spirituality and mindfulness.  Let's see where this evening will take us.  

I'm planning on settling by the log fire in the Morse Bar with a naughty glass of Cabernet Sauvignon having a giggle and putting the world to right.