A Right Old Knees Up

Christmas has been and gone now and peace is returning to Brook Farm. Burst pipes and frozen drains didn't stop us from scoffing and guzzling ridiculous amounts and having a good old knees up round the joanna. My Dad on the guitar and lead vocals, the beautiful niece perfectly in tune and the rest of us catterwauling along as best we could until the choruses when aunts, uncles, cousins, mothers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives all came together in perfect harmony and it all sounded fab (I'm lying) Doing the Lambeth Walk, Don't Dilly Dally and Knees Up Mother Brown were the favourites and to finish Oom Pah Pah from Oliver Twist. What a giggle.

All is quiet now, we've had some B&B guests and some Hen House guests come and go and more here now for New Year break. The candles are lit, the log fires burning. And now I have time to catch my breath and start to think about the nice things to come, starting I think with a bare root rose order. Lovely thing to do by the fire on a chilly January evening. Happy New Year to everyone (if anyone?) that reads this!

It all goes quiet and I dolittle

With fewer guests around at this time of year and the garden preparing for its winter sleep, I spend more time playing Dr Dolittle. For me animals bring Brook Farm to life - inside and out. However pleasing a scene is in our garden, if a cat or a chicken saunters into view it becomes even more so. Picture the old orchard on the hill - misshapen old apple and damson trees, a few wildflowers and some grass. A lovely country scene in itself, but add a couple of donkeys watching you quietly as they chew messily on an apple, the juice pouring out of their mouths and it becomes a real delight - well it does to me anyway.

In summer, a walk around the garden will find a scattering of sunbathing cats in various lazy poses, decorating the sunnier spots and looking as good as any expensive piece of sculpture to me.

And heading off into the woods for a walk in the morning wouldn't be the same without the dogs bounding ahead sweetly delighted with the same route every day thanks to the delicious smells laid by various wild creatures overnight.

At the beginning of November I bring the donkeys into the big barn overnight. It means more work for me, but I love having them here next to the house looking all cuddly and cosy in their straw bed. This year for the first time they are having to share with my new chickens. Neither species was particularly pleased about the arrangement for the first couple of days and I nearly had a squashed chicken or two as the donk Queenie chased them around the barn trying to hit them with her front feet. Several barn cats enjoyed the show from the safety of the hayloft - I'm sure they were grinning.

Willy says I'd have the whole menagerie in the house if he wasn't here and he could be right. I still have a childish love of seeing outside animals indoors and didn't rush to shoo out the hens when they came exploring the hall and the sitting room the other day. When I was about twelve I used to ride a neighbour's pony called Snowy. One day, when my parents were out, my friend and I thought it would be a good idea to take Snowy indoors. It was summer so he was quite clean but unfortunately as we took him through the sitting room he lifted his tail and started to produce an enormous poo. Being twelve year old girls we shrieked and giggled and were generally useless and I grabbed the nearest thing I could find in the kitchen which happened to be the cake tin and caught most of the pile of steaming dung in it. The rest of it went on a very pale rug. We obviously thought it was hilarious and I got away with it for years.....well til now actually. Sorry Mum!

So if you fancy snuggling by a roaring fire with or without a furry animal at your feet - whether you want to come and sightsee the area, go for bracing walks or simply Do Little, Brook Farm has a warm welcome, a cup of tea and a nice slice of cake waiting for you. (I have a brand spanking new cake tin honest.)

Look no further than Twitter for a great B&B!

For me running a B&B is made so much more fun by tweeting. There's a lovely community of Lords and Ladies (landlords and landladies) that chat, advise and giggle often early in the morning when normal people are still in bed and I just love being part of it.

It is also a brilliant way of finding places you just have to go and stay in. I started tweeting in March this year egged on by my friend Karen (www.shropshirebreakfast.co.uk) and by the beginning of April had a "Must Stay" list as long as my donkeys' ears, so using the excuse of our 15th wedding anniversary we planned a lovely TwitterTrail starting at the Grand Designs favourite Peel Castle (www.peelcastle.co.uk), then on to the beautiful country house Austwick Hall (www.austwickhall.co.uk), then some sea air at "The Best B&B in the NorthWest" (www.no43.org.uk) and finally the elegant Ashton in Lancaster (www.theashtonlancaster.co.uk)

A better selection of modern B&Bs would be hard to find and we had an amazing time. Each one was different, though all had the highest standards, and that is what is so lovely about British B&Bs : they are so different, being as they are, creations and perhaps even extensions of the owner's personality. And what food! Quality local food cooked perfectly every time.

Thinking of our 'little' farmhouse B&B, we felt like the poor relations in these enormous rooms and stylish surroundings. But of course our 'nice little place' is different again and though when I arrived back, with guests arriving that evening, I felt inadequate in comparison, the guests when they arrived did the same sort of ooohing and ahhing that we had been doing all week.

So there is obviously a place for "New Country" which is how I like to think of my own B&B alongside "Boutique" and "Luxury" and - er- "Castle" in the B&B world. What a great choice we have in this country. Thank goodness for that.

Ah Autumn - mellow fruitfulness for some; chainsaws and wellies for us. We've got fruit too - a few sloes, pears, autumn raspberries, loads of damsons and enough apples to feed the world. If the world has long enough arms to pick them. Our old orchard is planted on a bank and the trees are about 40 years old and big 'uns so we have to wait for windfalls to be able to appreciate their fruit.

This suits me "Leave it for the birds" I say, but Willy is different. He likes to strip a tree or bush of all its fruit and stash it in the freezer in the misguided belief that I will one day turn them into something delicious. He still does this every year despite the fact that I barely ever get around to doing so - a strategy that has worked well (finally) as he has taken to preserving and pickling things himself this year. He is in fact right now decanting damson vodka which is much loved by our guests. Hopefully soon he will move on to making pies and crumbles. I'll make the custard.

There are times when I can put on a good performance in the kitchen (hopefully most mornings as I run a B&B) but I would very much rather be in the garden than baking cakes and making jam, and autumn to me is the beginning of the gardening year. Although it is looking much as I feel at the end of a busy summer, it is now that I can start its makeover for a new look next year. Not a completely new look, but an improved look - Plants get moved from one place to another (Why on earth didn't I put them there in the first place?) Things get lifted and divided to give me more of the plants I love (Yay - free plants!) and a lot of stuff gets put on The Naughty Step.

The Naughty Step is a bank around the back of one of our barns where we put the thugs who would take over the garden if they had their way: a boring Lysimachia, Alchemilla mollis and masses of wild strawberries. There was a time when we were desperate for something to fill the acres of space we had and we were grateful for them so rather than compost them, we allow them this space to do their worst. It will probably end up being the best bit of the garden.

And with autumn, the chainsaw comes out again. Big old trees, weighed down with the rain on their leaves finally give in and fall. There was an ash at the far end that had been getting lower and lower over the seven years we've been here. It was a bit like living with an aged grandparent, he'd had a great life - what heights he'd reached - and we knew the end was coming, but it was still sad when he fell.

But what a great supply of wood for the fires this year. I love lighting the fires of an evening - that and a few candles make for a lovely welcome. Let's start getting cosy: the nights are drawing in.

This is a PS except it appears to be at the beginning and won't move down.
This is Sue's lovely painting mentioned below and I forgot to give you all a link to her art and her B&B both of which you are all going to want to see : www.beechenhill.co.uk




Sue (pictured here with lovely husband Terry) and I were agreeing that so many visitors to our B&Bs and holiday cottages say they wish they'd come for longer - people snatch a couple of days here and there and try to "squeeze in" a rest. Yes, we agreed people really should take the time to seriously slow down and enjoy the new area they've discovered : Take it easy, breath in the country air, read some books on a picnic blanket or just sit and stare. They shouldn't screech into the driveway, unpack, screech out again, tick off the sights, tear back, shower, whizz down to the pub - it's all too like their normal lives.

But I didn't have time to linger and chat because we had only booked to stay two nights and there was much to do.

From pretty little Ilam - which looks like a model village but bigger (er, so a village I guess) you drive up over the moor towards Beechenhill Farm. Driving along you can spot the house away up on a hill and immediately know you are going to get great views once you're there - and indeed there are great views on the way there and in fact all around: it is a truly beautiful place, The Peak District.

I needed rest. For weeks I had been becoming more and more jealous of my own guests and I wanted someone to look after me for a change! You remember when you were in your teens and you were always being told off for "Treating This House Like A Hotel" - I think that is what a good B&B should feel like: Somewhere you will feel immediately cosy and welcome, where someone will cook for you and do the washing up and tidy your room, but with the added bonus that you don't actually have to have a conversation with them if you don't want to. This is precisely how it feels at Beechenhill Farm.

In fact we did have several conversations with Sue and her family - mostly because they are very interesting, funny and kind people.

We had chosen to stay at Beechenhill Farm partly because we wanted to visit The Peaks, but also because Sue and I had been chatting on Twitter and I had mentioned an old saying that inspired Sue to paint one of her lovely swedish style folk paintings. I was very keen to see the painting and even hopeful that we might be able to buy it at her exhibition that week. And while we were staying we were able to see more of these gorgeous paintings and learn all about their history and how Sue is using the style to tell stories of the countryside and engage people in thinking about food production, farming and the environment. The pictures tell complex stories in a simple way and are especially a hit with schoolchildren visiting the exhibition. Hopefully they will hang on to the messages long into their adult lives.

So we did a little bit of sight seeing and a little bit of reading and quite a bit of sleeping and an awful lot of "Wow that's so beautiful"ing. And then it was time to go. Too soon. Should've stayed longer. We are so right about that Sue.

I love close in hills and trees but I also love a feeling of space
I like hedges but I don't like 'rooms'
I love straight lines and symmetry but I want a natural feel
I like clever ideas but I also love simplicity
This is why I like the garden at Veddw, but you might not
In which case the owners would probably rather have a conversation with you than me

Do visit this amazing garden in person or virtually at www.veddw.co.uk

It's usually about now every year that I realise that my charmingly chaotic garden is actually an alarmingly shambolic garden and instead of floating around thinking "Ah nature is doing a wonderful job all on her own", I'm muttering things like "Oh do stand up dear" to a laden floribunda rose and "Hmm you're not supposed to be there" to an enormous crocosmia falling across a tiny path and "Please don't strangle poor Miss Wilmott" to the dreaded bindweed. It is time to get my scissors out and start Tidying Up.

I will only Tidy Up twice a year - the first time lasts from January to April which is quite enough tidying in one year really, so this time it is a quick frenzy of beheading and deadheading, ruthless trimming and maybe even a touch of strimming because it is also a busy time of year for my B&B and holiday cottage business.

I emerge from a hedge backwards secateurs in hand to greet guests, make tea and present cake with small twigs and nettles stuck in my hair and then head straight back to the garden, briefly groaning as I pass a mirror and realise how frightening I look.

And after a couple of days everything is looking much much better ...much tidier ...very pleasing...except there are gaps now, which is not pleasing at all and in fact I appear to have tidied away a lot of the flowers along with the mess. If I was a proper gardener I would have several summer flowering bulbs or annuals in pots ready to slip into the blank spaces, but I'm not, so I haven't and a trip to the garden centre is the only answer.

The garden centre knows I'm coming and has all its best plants flowering their hearts out, totally distracting me from my pledge to only buy things on my list. And they have a lovely garden to look around too, which makes me feel even more of a failure, so I have to go to their coffee shop and have some cake and then a quick visit to their salvage yard and a longer and expensive visit to their interiors shop too which makes me feel better briefly before I realise what I just spent on a pretty bowl could have bought three more plants.

And so back to the garden and slotting in the sparkling new plants into my rowdy borders and now I'm feeling sorry for them as they look so prim and proper in their new home, like sober newcomers at a drunken party.

Never mind, like new kids at school they'll be joining in with the gang next year and I'll be pleading with them to behave like a worn out schoolteacher and being ignored and it will all start all over again... I love gardening.