I thought of another question each time I passed the shop. How do they get the crisps out if people want to buy some? Does the assistant open the door and get buried under an avalanche of crisps? Or perhaps the crisps are not actually for sale, and are just for show, going slowly stale... Do they attract mice, or could they be made of plastic? So many questions.....and now I'm back in the UK I can't even go into the shop and check for myself. Although that would have spoiled the fun, in a way.
Malaga is apparently one of the cultural cities of Spain, and it does have some great museums. It is also happens to be where Picasso was born. But during this visit we didn't do very much. We just ambled about and went to only one museum, the Museum of Glass and Crystal.
Its doors had remained firmly shut last time we were in Malaga but this time it was open, and we found it a complete thrill. It is a fairly new museum in an old palacio, restored by its benevolent-sounding owner, Gonzalo Fernandez-Prieto, who actually lives in an apartment on the top floor. He has arranged his own large, imaginative and varied private collection of glass, crystal and antiques to feel as if you're taking a tour through a private house. So, no barriers, few labels, and glimpses of a beautiful garden outside. You also get a guide who speaks your own language, and the overall cost is very reasonable. This Tripadvisor link gives a very good idea of what it is like, and if you are interested, I suggest you take a look at the pictures on the link. I liked far too much of what I saw to show it all here. But my picture of an 18th century goblet shows how the guide was free to handle it - he held it up just where I asked to photograph it. Not been made to be locked forever in a glass cabinet, but to be handled and held, I like to think Mr Fernandez-Prieto might have had his friends over sometimes to eat and drink off his glass treasures.
One of the nice things about it being a personal private museum is that he was able to label the restrooms with incredibly rare Andy Warhol glass to show which door was which. (That's Andy on the right).
As I said we've been to Malaga often, and on this trip we stayed in the square shown below. It's really central and as we were several floors up in an old apartment block, we could watch life happening below without having to participate in the bustle or noise unless we wanted to. We mostly did want to go out in the evening - the place was cheerful and lively and very clean - the trucks come round twice a day - and there's a lot of very good, inexpensive food to be had.
During the day we liked to stop by the cathedral to watch pigeons skimming up and down by the fountains nearby to drink or wash. I like how this one sticks out its head and tucks its little pink claws in as it lands.
The jacaranda trees in Plaza Merced were in full glory - they only bloom a few weeks of the year but it's magic to see them against a blue sky.
So Malaga rocks, and we had a day longer than we bargained for when our flight home with Wizz Air was cancelled a few hours before takeoff. It cost us £800 to buy tickets back to the UK next day. We're still trying to get the statutory compensation for late flight cancellation (400 euros each) out of Wizzair for a nightmare fllight experience. But being in Spain was a tonic.
Next, a return to Herefordshire, which I mentioned in my last post. Below is a photo of the excellent lady guide to the Painted Room in the charming town of Ledbury. The room shown is a local government office, rather surprisingly. Until the 1980s, everyone had forgotten it ever had been hand painted, but some sharp eyed workmen spotted the designs as they removed old wallpaper during some renovations. So the conservators were called in and the room was revealed.
The guide is showing part of a children's project about knot gardens, a type of aromatic herb garden laid out in a maze of little hedges. That is because the painted wall decoration is based on knot gardens, which were the height of fashion in Tudor times She told us that the room was apparently designed for a man with the interesting name of Mr. Skull in the 16th century. Back then it was used for public business and meetings, just like now, since Mr. Skull and his family were the building's resident caretakers.
I felt very grateful to Ledbury's council for letting us have this little glimpse of the past, and providing such a good and enthusiastic guide.
We also hit the Hellens Music festival. "Hellens" is another very old house, even older than the Ledbury painted room. In fact, it originally belonged to King Harold II. (And if you thought at first that you'd never heard of him, think 1066. He was THE King Harold whose eye was put out by William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings.) Hellens is now privately owned by a family that loves music. Every year they run a series of masterclasses for young chamber musicians, culminating in a festival week of wonderful performances, which are held in an old barn. It's really, really informal, and the atmosphere is quite inspirational. A cat came along to attend each performance I was at. I am sure it found it inspirational too, and appreciated everything about it, just like we did.
There was also a charming dog who liked to play ball with the guests on the lawn afterwards. Hellens really seemed to me to be the kind of house I'd rather like to live in if I was extremely rich.
Later in June we had a few days in Norfolk. By then, my hamstring was making things difficult. But a trip to Wymondham (pronounced "Windham") cheered me up. It is a nice old town with some nice old pubs and shops, and a reasonably priced local teashop called the Mad Hatter, with home made food (click the link to see their Jubilee afternoon tea - yum). Wymondham Abbey, the local parish church, was very unusual and well worth visiting the town to see. At first I thought it was ruined but it turned out that the building had originally been a 12th century monastery. at some point, the nave and north aisle of the monastery were hived off to be used as as parish church by the townspeople.
So there were now two rival groups sharing a big grand building - what could go wrong? Well, of course everything. The bitter rivalry between monastery and townspeople was finally settled by Henry VIII, who closed all the monasteries in England for his own greedy purposes. That left the townspeople triumphantly in possession. Unfortunately they didn't have the money or the population to maintain the monastery so they just let it fall down, or else they demolished bits as they needed them for the splendid stone. It was Caen stone, laboriously brought over from France. Which was no mean feat in the 12th century, specially since Wymondham is not on the sea.
So now Wymondham parish church is a slice of monastic cathedral: immensely tall, with gigantic Norman arches, a clerestory, a dazzling altar, old stained glass, splendid roof, and so on. But there's not much of it, so it doesn't have the paid staff, the offices, the shop, the side chapels or all the other things a cathedral has. It is left to a handful of local people and their vicar to keep it open and running.
They do a good job.
Services are centred on the magnificent nave, but the vicar had used the aisle, with its fine old triptych and ancient carved roof, as a meditation and calm space. (see below). You can see the comfortable sofas, the flowers, the lights and the beautiful stained glass windows (though unfortunately you can't see the stained glass in my photo). No effort has been spared to make the atmosphere incredibly peaceful, calm and welcoming. They wouldn't have been able to do that if it had been a cathedral. So, everything has worked out for the best.
After this, the various muscle issues kept us in London for a while, and we had to cancel a trip we were going to take to Sussex. But we haven't been sitting relaxing at home, oh no. Various events in our wider family have meant that we're seeing more of our grandkids than usual, not only the twins, who are their usual bouncy selves, but also S, the oldest, who has been staying for a while as he revises for an examination. It's wonderful - they're friendly, helpful, companionable and full of ideas and enthusiasm. What's more, there has always been someone around to pick things up off the floor, carry bags, move furniture, (in the case of S) and chat nineteen to the dozen. I am sure it's good for the health. T. is almost better and I feel I am now on the mend at last. So I hope we can make our next trip, which is only next week. I'll keep you posted.
