sweetness and light

When the children were tiny I knew I wanted to find somewhere we could go to on holiday year after year. I liked the idea of returning to a place that was special to us all, somewhere we could slip instantly into relaxation mode and feel at home, somewhere we could build an archive of shared memories and anecdotes and details.

I really had no idea where it would be as neither Simon nor I had any connections with the seaside (it had to be beside the sea) and neither of us had somewhere we'd known since our own childhood. We tried Cornwall, Devon and Dorset but couldn't find what we were looking for. 

And then one grey and windy summer's day ten years ago we took Tom, Alice and Phoebe to Aldeburgh for fish and chips. We sat on the wall of the shelving pebbly beach and faced the ever-changing sea and sky and shared our chips with the cheeky seagulls. And we fell in love with the charm of the town, the bleakness and simplicity of the landscape and the edge-of-the-worldliness atmosphere.

We've been back again and again, and still Aldeburgh offers the sweetness and light we were looking for. We've stayed in many different places in the town, but this was the first time I've wanted to move into a rented house permanently. In fact, it was so conducive to domesticity that one of the first things I did was buy three bunches of wonderful dahlias when we visited the utterly fabulous gardens of Helmingham Hall (an unbelievable £1 a bunch) and arrange them in the living room.

Inspired by these flowers and the general homeliness, we visited Woottens, our favourite plant nursery, to buy some plants to take home, including some 'David Howard' dahlias which I've been searching for for a while (lovely burnished orange flowers with dark, bronze foliage). As the house didn't have a garden we kept the plants in the wash-room - a wash-room to beat all other wash-rooms I've ever known, it must be said - and I spent inordinate amounts of time simply enjoying the effect in here.

This would make a perfect flower-room, I thought.

But the most stunning view was from our first-floor living room and it was best enjoyed with a glass of cold and fruity rose to match my dahlias and my husband (above). I was enthralled by the way that three wide strips - the beach, the sea and the sky - could offer so much drama and variation. One day we would have a calm and glittering silver sea and the next we'd be watching rough, brown, crashing waves.

The sky changed by the hour, and the clouds and the colours offered us brilliant wide-screen entertainment all week.

And I felt so at home that I was able to hand-quilt all my quilt while I listened to Leonard Cohen and the children roller-skated up and down the beach path, queued for fish and chips and designed ridiculous board games.   

Sweetness and light, indeed. 

Comments

[claire]

having just moved to a big, ocean-less city, your photos made me ache for the salty breeze of home. And then I had to laugh at the coincidence that I was listening to Leonard while I read your post...

thanks!

[Lesley]

What a beautiful house - places that like make me want to not gohome! We are off next Saturday for our 5th holiday in Cornwall at the same place. It is so lovely to become familiar with a place and the children love planning visits to our favourite haunts. Beautiful flowers too!

[Peg]

Perhaps you can buy that beautiful house! I love it, and I have only seen glimpses. The dahlias do make it even nicer, but the rose would go down a treat too!

[kmkat]

Another Leonard Cohen fan here. Have you seen this performance of his song "Everybody Knows" by Concrete Blonde?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaJAxdGeZ4E
As much as I love LC's gravelly bass, I have to say CB gets it absolutely right.

Lovely vacation spot. Going to the same place year after year becomes like coming home.

[Lynn in Tucson]

Argh. That post does nothing to assuage my feelings of landlocked-ness. We have that place that that we return to (and the family has since my grandmother was a child), in the Sierras northwest of Lake Tahoe, but I don't feel that it's "my" place. Living in Tucson the rest of the year, I need a beach!
Lovely, lovely photos.
-Lynn

[Lynn in Tucson]

Argh. That post does nothing to assuage my feelings of landlocked-ness. We have that place that that we return to (and the family has since my grandmother was a child), in the Sierras northwest of Lake Tahoe, but I don't feel that it's "my" place. Living in Tucson the rest of the year, I need a beach!
Lovely, lovely photos.
p.s. Have you heard the Jennifer Warnes album of several years ago, "Famous Blue Raincoat?" It's quite good, IMHO. I've wanted to listen to it for months now, but its CD case is mysteriously empty....

[Elena]

Oh, sounds lovely with such a beautifully situated "second" home! And I must agree on that the Dahlias, the Rosé and your Husband harmonize fantastically well together! Good choices!

[melissa]

your husband is cold and fruity? ;)

[Elena]

I see I'm the second Elena to comment - that doesn't happen to me often.
Beautiful spot - well done!
Could you give me the details for the geranium fabric? It is just beautiful...

[anne]

There must be something magical about that long, long line of coastline, water, and sky. We, too have our favorite lakeside spot (as one of the Great Lakes, it is visually indistinguishable from ocean) and it never fails to fill me with peace.

[kristina]

Ooh--how lovely--it really does look like a dream! Ages ago you mentioned the name of the organisation through which you found such interesting properties to stay in here in England. Could you please give the name again, as I seem to have misplaced it. Thank you so much!

[Emma]

Thorpeness ! My childhood memories, well, the best of them, are of Thorpeness and Aldeburgh. We used to walk along the beach to Aldeburgh to buy crusty bread, and eat amazing meringues in the tea room near Moot Hall. The defences first built against Napoleon, with a round, red ball of the setting sun behind them. I can smell all the smells of happy summer and autumn days spent on the pebbly beach.
Sigh.

[Sarah]

Ooh, that view from the living room, I'm surprised you could leave.

[Jessica Powers]

That wash room made me drool! What a fabulous place to make memories - your photos don't hurt either!

[Sue]

Hi Jane

We found our 'home from home' holiday place in West Lulworth in Dorset in 1978 and continued to go there for 25 years. It's such a great feeling to know, within seconds of locking your front door, exactly what you want to do with your free time and know you haven't got to waste half your holiday winding down and settling in.

Glad you had such a lovely time. What a super house you found to stay in. My guess is that you'll be going there again!

Parcel will be in the post tomorrow.

Sue x

[jane]

We love Aldeburgh too, but our special family holdays have been in Southwold, near the lighthouse, and usually at Christmas. Wonderful.

[Zélia]

I loved your post... sweetness, yes:)

[steph]

oh thank you!

I grew up in a wee village outside Aldeburgh *sniff*. I live in New Zealand now, but before we emigrated we spent a week with my dad, the children experiencing Aldeburgh in August - the icecreams and fish and chips to die for on the beach. As we left I smiled that we had this week of memories of the UK to think back to in NZ. It was wonderful.

My mum, who live far too short a life, loved Aldeburgh too - in fact my parents had their honeymoon there, and my childhood and stoppy-teeness was filled with walks on that beach. I remember stomping up and down the shingle as i battled with my disertation one easter hols...

So thank you for those memories this sunny NZ morning :o)

Steph

[françoise]

Hello Jane! You've uncovered a secret: the magic of staring at the North Sea. As a child I spent several days in Westende, on its opposing shore, in unseasonable weather (is there such a thing in Belgium?) which could not could dent the perfect serenity of just looking out at the sea. Unlike you, during my childhood a month "a la mer" was de rigeur for our health; while our bodies thrived on running into freezing waves only to be whipped dry by whistling wind, or scorched by brutal sunshine, it is clear that the lasting gift has been my unwavering love for that stretch of unglamorous sea, and the peace and joy it gives me.
It's lovely to have you back!

[Angie]

I can certainly see why you feel in love with the house and the sea. Makes me wish I were there!

[Nicole]

Sounds and looks just heavenly!

[Sherry]

It does sound so much like sweetness and light. And it reminds me of that Persephone book, The Fortnight in September.

I hope I can have something like that one day.

[Maryjo]

How wonderful for others to share their English seaside stories.

I'm like another poster: we are mountain people and have a place south of Lake Tahoe (and north of Yosemite) in California and we recharge there. BUT your photos are lovely, and kids and sea and sun are always a good healthy combination!
Welcome back -- we've all had Yarnstorm withdrawal this month! Maryjo

[Amy]

Oh my heavens. If you don't buy that house then I will. It sounds like heaven on earth! I didn't grow up going to that one special holiday spot (and I agree, it would HAVE to be by the sea) - and like you, I crave one now. And after this post, even more so.

[Mary K. in Rockport]

Since we live by the sea, I crave the mountain holiday from time to time. And now I crave for that exact sink in your photo with an unbecoming desire. I WANT it. It would look just right in my kitchen. Please send it (even though it isn't yours.)