The Charity Chic Series Brings You The Charity Shops of Lyme Regis

Posted on December 16, 2014 by Margaret Graham

FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY by Wendy Breckon

I’ve got an addiction. Can I share it with you? Charity shops.

Even writing the words, makes me want to wiz round the room faster than a small child on a red scooter.

Something happens when I catapult myself, bottoms up through the door, clutching the bag that can hold everything. “I’ve got a theory. Have you got a minute?” Maybe, giant magnets inside the door suck us in, rendering us incapable of rational behaviour.

“Can I help you?” says the volunteer looking down with curiosity at my jellyfish like movements and inane grin. Yes, there is no place I would rather be than rifling through the bits of material and matching buttons in the bin at the back.

Some people dismiss the idea of charity shops with a bit of a sniff, (although less so these days) so why don’t I? It is probably FAITH that when I turn up at five to five the volunteers will take pity and usher me in. HOPE that the dress I wriggled into yesterday is still there, in my size today and CHARITY; do not forget when you are searching for a bargain that sliding money over the desk is helping those less fortunate.

Charity shops can test the fragility of personal friendships. Take for example, “one husband and a leather jacket”. One morning when browsing in one in Hertfordshire, my other half tried on a brown jacket that he really wanted. Slight problem. He didn’t have enough cash so put it back on the hanger. Later on we went for a walk and spotted the very attractive brown jacket moving towards us. Guess what? His best mate was wearing it. But… hey… whatever, they are still good friends.

We have two charity shops in Broad Street, Lyme Regis, Dorset. Both are in the perfect position for a saunter down to the sea afterwards with the smell of coffee following your path.

Today I am visiting the Tenovus charity shop. This is a British charity committed to the control of cancer through quality research / education counselling and patient care. It was established in 1943 by ten business men, (hence the ten of us). Tenovus scientists have been recognised for their pioneering work. They have a free phone cancer support line (0800 800 100), free counselling and benefits advice. Check out the official web site – www.tenovus.org.uk.

It was bitterly cold outside, but beyond the door there was a friendly welcome from Sam Green the manager and her two volunteers Sue and Rosemary. Vibrant colours, great displays and lots to buy at excellent value. I needed very little encouragement to take home the papier mache rocking horse that was part of the window display. Now it rests gently on the ledge beside my stained glass window.

So what is my passion? Jugs, all sizes, shapes, chipped not a problem. Bit of a history, fine with me. No holes in the bottom, even better.

Old frames, where I remove the print inside and replace with photographs and a funky surround. Wallpaper, wrapping paper, shells or fossils. All you need is a trusty glue gun.

Now let us not forget the magical world of the charity shop bookshelves. Faded paperbacks, celebrity hardbacks, pop-up or pop-out books. How To Make Sand Candles Or Origami Figures, One Dark Night In Lyme Regis or a Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Cobb. I’m an avid reader and love them all.

After a good night’s sleep dreaming of my purchases I awake refreshed. The thought that the money spent is playing such a vital part to the relevant charity, is never far from my mind. If you have any spare time, why not consider volunteering, or at the very least, buy some fantastic bargains from them. Whenever we go through the door we can make a difference to someone’s life.

A Kiwi Christmas By Julia Charity

Posted on December 16, 2014 by Margaret Graham

Te timatanga (The ‘opening’)

“Mum!! It’s Christmas!!”

Jingle bells jangle in my ear.

I hear my voice thick with tiredness, where blankets of sleep still lie heavy. This child – the one who Monday through Friday sleeps till 8 o’clock – has woken me.

It’s 6.36 am.

“Mum! It’s Christmas!”

From my dreamy sanctuary, Alice pulls me to my feet. Clutching her small hand, I stagger downstairs. Descending through sleep’s cloud my heart softens in anticipation of my favourite ‘Mummy’ moment of the year.

Her excitement is palpable although for now I only let her open Santa’s sack. I was right about the Lego; (the new ‘Friends’ campervan was irresistible) and the watch was bang on.

We eat Santa’s chocolate, snuggle and wait for the rest of the family: my partner Phillip; his daughter; two Grandmas; Grandpa and the dog, so we can enjoy the ‘opening’ together.

Alice and I make our gifts. My mother laughs at our first book, ‘The Best Nest’ – a comedy about our adventures at Lake Tarawera in Rotorua. Alice is a natural cartoonist. For other loved ones we have reproduced her artwork on Calendars, mousepads and diaries.

I have made her a mermaid’s tail, with fins and a sequined bra. It’s more than she can cope with. I bury my head into her little shoulder so no one sees my tears of pride as she squeals appreciation with delighted hugs.

“You’re the best Mummy!”

Months of working relentlessly, saving ferociously and creating furtively, are satiated in that single moment. Truth is, I always engineer it so Santa comes off looking ‘adequate’ while I get the credit for the ‘good stuff’.

Te Kai (The feast)

Lured by the magnetic mountain and intoxicating waters of Lake Tarawera, our summer days are warm and long. One of our Christmas traditions is to catch trout. This year we secure a 9 pound record – a true monument of the season. My skipper is proud and my girl learns well.

The Christmas Day Feast celebrates the abundance of our land, our waters and the generosity of my family. Its decadence is of a magnitude I barely comprehend. There is Hot smoked trout, manuka honey-glazed ham, green-lipped mussels, rack of lamb, barbecued chicken kebabs, minted green peas, and a myriad of green salads. Strawberry Champagne. pilsner and ales, chardonnays and Pinot Noirs flow readily. We embellish the table with fresh pohutukawa flowers – blazing red, a national symbol of a kiwi Christmas.

Phillip rings out his welcome and karakia (prayer) in the language of our Nation’s first people – te reo Maori. Humility and reverence give way to voracious consumption, laughter and ultimately, contentment.

Te Moana (The Lake)

As the afternoon transpires, we migrate to the lakefront. Catering and shepherding three generations takes some orchestrating. We alternate between swimming and kayaking in the sheltered bay. I live vicariously through my daughter’s discovery she actually is a mermaid.

Post by Julia Charity.

As I throw myself on to a towel in the sand, the sun blesses my wet skin and I sink into bliss. It’s the perfect Christmas.

“Where’s the soap Mummy?”

I don’t know how long I was asleep but I’m struggling to grasp comprehension. I need to lay off that champagne.

“Grandma said a naughty word.”

I cock my head up at my Mother who feigned shame. I return mocked punishment and we laugh shamelessly.

5.45 pm. Time for dinner? I throw picnic blankets and arrange a visual symphony of delectable offerings (a.k.a ‘leftovers’).

Then as all good shepherds do. I gather. I bring in shivering children, the Aunty who I have a long chat to, the kindly neighbour, who we must see more of. And my dog.

My dog, regrettably, is the first one that gets the message that dinner is ready.

11.07 pm. I’m done in. Even my hair is tired.

“You did good babe.”

Phillip gently retrieves me from the kitchen and I sink against him. I barely feel myself being steered back up the stairs.

Whether this season brings you turkey and snow or trout and sunshine – Merry Christmas from ‘down-under’ to ‘up top.’

Julia Charity is a New Zealand-based Mother, Entrepreneur and Writer.

What Do You Love About Christmas? By Mary Cooper

Posted on December 16, 2014 by Margaret Graham

What do you love about Christmas? Choosing the perfect present? What do you hate about Christmas? The noise and bustle of the crowded shops? But how do you have one without suffering the other?

I have a solution to all of this and it hasn’t cost a penny, and could well be an answer to the waste at this time of year. As with so many things it started as a problem to be solved. I share the house with my mother, and we needed to clear the spare room for my son and his family who were joining us for the festivities. But no, she said. We can’t throw anything away.

My new grandchild was going to have to learn to clamber far earlier than she otherwise might, over the games, jigsaws, knick-knack and books left from Christmases past.

‘Hey, give all our old things as presents,’ my sister suggested. ‘It will be like packaging up memories.’ I convinced mother, collected up armfuls of ‘stuff’ and deposited it on the floor of the sitting room. Mother and I were soon lost in a nostalgic mist.

There was Newmarket, where you place your bets then throw the dice, which my mother said was great for children as it taught them the value of money. Mmm, not too sure about her logic.

There was a box of Mastermind which, I think, must be one of the originals from the 1970s, and another was Cludo, and jigsaws galore – intact, and masses of books.

I found a beautiful paperweight – perfect for my sister in law, and what about this wooden jewellery box for my daughter in law, maracas for a nephew, a belly dancing kit (ha ha) and even a bonsai kit with no seeds; we substituted the seeds with an unopened packet of mixed wild flowers we found on the kitchen windowsill.

By the end. the room was alive with precious memories. We had talked, laughed, and recaptured so much that was good about my growing up. It was a privilege to do this with my mother and for the first time I heard the memories from her point of view.

Next I went to the local card shop (Oops, I lied about going to the shops) and bought a mountain of wrapping paper, ribbons, gift-cards and bows. I spent the next two days in happy wrapping mode and ended up with a priceless pile of presents under the Christmas tree, each with a short explanation of the pleasure it had brought to their original owners.

I can’t tell you how invaluable these hours were, sorting and sharing. It was my gift to myself, and I think that she felt the same. It was a moment in time that will, I know, resonate down the years. How many people can say that when choosing gifts at Christmas time?

Poppy by Janet Pinder

Posted on December 15, 2014 by Margaret Graham

Although she’s never made the list in the US, Poppy, as a name, is on a rising graph in England, Scotland, and Wales. She is also popular in Australia and New Zealand.

In Latin the meaning of the Name ‘Poppy’ is ‘Flower’ and ones first thoughts turn to the colourful garden flowers which the dictionary describes as ‘any of a numerous genus of plants having red, orange or white flowers and a milky sap’. Google on the other hand talks about a ‘flowering plant in the subfamily Papaveroideae of the family Papaveraceae. Poppies are herbaceous plants, often grown for their colourful flowers’.

Another Google quote tells us ‘Poppy flowers can vary largely in colour, but are commonly identified as red. This led to an association with death, and may explain the adoption of the poppy as a symbol for rembrance of WW1 victims.

The use of the poppy as a symbol of remembrance was however inspired by the poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ and must be the most familiar subject that we associate with this flower.

On a recent shopping trip, as I had not yet managed to buy a poppy I left my Husband, reading his Bucks Free Press in the coffee shop, to look for a special one that I wanted. I returned empty handed only to be greeted with “Prepare yourself for some bad news”.

It was the announcement in the death column of a very old friend. Poppy; an ex neighbour whom we had known since the early 60s. She had been a very good neighbour and friend to the family when our boys were very young. They affectionately called her Mrs Poppy. She would always do anything for anyone. Her kitchen was open daily for morning tea to all the regular tradesmen – postman, milkman and others. She organised and ran the village help line for the sick and elderly, shopping for others, arranging lifts for doctors appointments and any other matter in which she could help. ‘The Salt of the Earth’ was one description given to her at her funeral.

Years ago she had told me she was born on 11^th November, I believe at 11 o’clock which is why she was given her name, so it should not have been any surprise to me that with her death being at this time of the year, the family had chosen that same date and time for her funeral although I was puzzled by the start time given in the paper of 10.45. It was soon apparent that everyone needed to be in the church promptly, for at 11 o’clock, before the actual service started, we were guided to participate with the rest of the country in the two minutes silence that is observed on this day at this time when we remember the gallant men and women who gave their lives in all the conflicts around the world and their family and friends that they left behind.

At this time I also like to add my thanks that I was one of the lucky ones whose Father came home, seemingly uninjured, although he spoke very little of his experiences. It was a very moving start to a funeral – one I have not experienced before nor probably will again.

I just wonder how many other people in this world have had the same date and time for both birth and funeral and what the probability is of this happening on November 11th- especially to someone called Poppy.

November in Salema, Portugal – a Good Idea? By Jan Speedie

Posted on November 28, 2014 by Margaret Graham

I was invited to visit friends who live in Salema in the Algarve, Portugal, in November . It seemed like a great idea, but what’s a girl to pack? Is it cold, hot, or what? And would it be a modern complex miles from anywhere or something that dreams are made of?

Dreams won out, and ‘warm’ was the order of the week. Salema is a fishing village situated on the coast of the western Algarve. As you drive/walk down the steep hill to the cobbled square in the centre of the village you pass doorways hung with bougainvillea, making a brilliant splash of colour.

Once there, the day must start with a coffee and a pastel de nata (Portuguese custard tart) while you take in your surroundings, and people watch. The fishing boats still go out daily to supply the local restaurants with fresh fish. The narrow cobbled street Rue de Pescadores winds up through the old part of Salema. A great many villa and apartments have been built but most are empty and unfinished waiting for new owner when the European economy revives.

Now that the long hot summer is over and the holiday makers have returned home, the village settles down for a period of rest and recuperation after the long exhausting season.

November brings moments of much needed rain that softens the sun parched ground and nature comes to life again. It actually feels ‘spring like’ with the almond trees in blossom.

The gardens of the houses and villas are coming to life again. The long sandy beach has lost its sun loungers and umbrellas but the Atlantic waves roll in for the waiting surfers to enjoy, clad in their wet suits.

November is when the Medronho berries ripen. Medronho trees grow wild on the poor soil of the Algarve and the berries are collected by farmers to process by hand into a drink known as ‘firewater’ because of the hot sensation felt in the throat when drunk. Aquardent de Medronhos (firewater) is very popular with farmers and fishermen and often drunk for breakfast to ‘waken the spirits’. I’ll stick with a coffee, please.

Salema is situated on the edge of the Parque Natural which extends down to Cape St Vincent. This nature reserve is designed to protect the outstanding beauty of the coastline, the wildlife and the region’s unique flora and fauna. The whole area is rich in history with remnants of Roman and Phoenician settlements.

If after a few days at a gentle pace of life you feel the need to see modern life again the large town of Lagos is only 20 minutes drive away with its shops, bars, restaurants and marina.

Yes, Salema is indeed the place of, and for, dreams.

Trelinnoe Park With the Live Poets By Geni Ray Johnston

Posted on November 25, 2014 by Margaret Graham

Frost is delighted to introduce the first of our features from Geni Ray Johnston, who lives in Taupo, New Zealand and is a member of Live Poets.

Along the old Coach Road off the Napier-Taupo Highway is a little piece of Paradise, Trelinnoe Park, created by Brian and John Wills. The Live Poets from Taupo and Hastings met there in October, the start of New Zealand’s spring, because that is the best time to see the rhododendrons in flower.

The weather forecast wasn’t hopeful, but we decided that nothing less than the road being closed by snow would stop us. After all, all manner of challenges had done nothing to prevent the brothers from turning the waste scrubland they acquired in 1956 into this glorious landscaped park. Ten poets set off in the bus from Taupo and arrived at Trelinnoe in time to grab a quick cup of coffee.

The weather appeared to be improving so we set off to explore and found the yellow iris at their best, growing in profusion around the man made lakes. A glorious splash of sunshine on a wet day.

We walked on and found ourselves emerging onto wide swathes of lawn, and more blossom. The lawns and trees are a structural feature of Brian and John’s design, and which give a feeling of space and perspective. This space works particularly well when set off by the slopes of woodland planting, the soaring tall trees, and of course the rhododendrons, and Magnolias (we were told we should have come in September to see the full range of Magnolias)

Every corner revealed another vista. But gradually the rain became heavier much as it does in Cornwall, ( or so Margaret Graham tells us) where Brian and John’s grandfather lived, on a farm called Trelinnoe, before emigrating. We buttoned our coats tighter and pulled up hoods. We were still having fun. In the rain the greens were greener, and the flowers brighter.

Conversation flowed, time passed. Shirley, Vic, and Liz took off ahead, Teresse, Joanna and I took a slightly different route. Shirley’s group had the map and we spotted them through the trees, but detouring to where they were seemed like back tracking. We forged on regardless and came upon things that amazed. This tree belongs in Lord of the Rings, I think.

I sometimes have trouble walking if I am gallivanting for too long and the café was beckoning, so Joanna and Teresse took an arm each and we carried on.

We saw a sculpture which was Herculean in concept, so rain not withstanding, we had a bit of a photoshoot. It was at this point a white knight on a quad bike appeared to whisk us in turn, away to the café – Bruce Wills to the rescue. I took first trip.

Away we went up hills and round bends until I was disembarked with great aplomb, back at the café and into the midst of some of the poets who had arrived back via different routes. They were well ahead with their lunch, not to mention their poetry reading.

Bruce mounted his charger again, and returned to scoop up the rest of the missing poets, Jo, and Teresse, though I feel they would both have been happy to be ‘lost’ for a while longer to explore the riches of Trelinnoe, especially this orchid we found.

John Wills has Parkinson’s disease and also writes poetry so he was delighted to come and join the poets and to share one of his poems. As I said when I finally dried out enough to share a poem or two ‘Anyone can walk through the park in the sun, but come in the rain, it’s much more fun!’

All Hell Let Loose In World War 1 By Wendy Breckon

Posted on November 24, 2014 by Margaret Graham

THE UNTOLD STORY OF WILLIAM AND TOM so that we can give thanks to all those represented by the poppies planted in commemoration at the Tower before memory fades into the frenzy of Christmas.

Patriotic fever, uncertainty and a touch of sadness are in the air. The year is 1915. Our country is at war. This is the moving story of two men, both connected to my family.

The first, my great grandfather William Ralph Wootton, was born in 1877 in Ardwick Manchester. The other, born in Bedfordshire in 1884 many miles away, Thomas Henry Seamer, my husband’s grandfather.

Two young men leaving their families, not sure of their future, but that is where the similarity ends. One returned and sadly one did not.

The father of five sons, William Ralph, Lance Corporal Wootton (2748) of the 5/7^th Lancashire Fusiliers was killed on the 9^th August 1915 in Gallipoli. He met his bloody end a few weeks after joining up in the battle of Krithie Vineyard.

My poor great grandmother paid the price as he did, for the ‘Hell Let Loose’ campaign, (a term coined by one of the battalion survivors). Now the repercussions started. My grandfather, William Richard, the oldest son, had to go out to work to support the family. As well as losing his dad, his dreams of further education as he was such a bright lad, were scuppered. He never got over this and remained resentful.

Years later, he and his brothers were working in a mill in Lancashire when Winston Churchill visited. As they blamed him for their father’s death, due to the mishandling of the Gallipoli conflict, all five of then turned their backs on him and continued working, as Churchill walked down the aisles. Each of the Wootton brothers had their pay docked for not switching off their machines. Such feelings are understandable, as sadly they had all paid the price of growing up without their father.

In my hand, there is a faded brown leather wallet, a bullet, and a selection of torn letters. Their owner was my husband’s late grandfather, Private Tom Henry Seamer of the 1/8 Middlesex Battalion who fought at Ypres in France. One of these was from his little daughter Lizzie, saying ‘she looked like a toff in her new coat’ and ‘please come home soon daddy’.

The other one was from his employer who owned a flour mill in Hertford. The rich owner of the business, wrote from Falmouth on his honeymoon, to Tom in the trenches.

‘We are having a blissful time. The weather is beautiful. You wouldn’t have thought there was a war on here Seamer because all the men are away’.

One evening whilst on active service, Tom took out his prayer book to read a psalm and noticed that… a stray bullet had penetrated the wallet which he kept in his breast pocket.

This had ripped through his letters and photographs but miraculously, because of its full contents, his life had been saved.

Private Tom Henry Seamer did return to Hertford after the war to his wife and daughter, taking up his old job with the mill, driving a cart and his horse. Life in the trenches was rarely talked about to friends and family. Always at the back of his mind, he would have realised that he was a survivor, whilst too many of his friends were not. I suspect a great loneliness was his companion as he went through life.

This article is dedicated to the memory of Lance Corporal Wootton and Private Seamer and written by Wendy Breckon, (nee Wootton) x

Charity Chic in Downley, High Wycombe

Posted on November 22, 2014 by Margaret Graham

Iain Rennie Hospice at Home service, provided by Rennie Grove Hospice Care, offers essential palliative and end-of-life care based around patients and their families, both day and night.

I know several people whose relatives have been nursed by these exemplary nurses and carers, nursed at home which is the wonderful concept of this charity.

One of their main fundraising arms is the charity shop. The Iain Rennie Hospice shop in Downley High Wycombe is just one of many. Downley is a village with a fantastic sense of community and a great deal going on, and is perched on the top of a hill to the west of High Wycombe, with a five minute walk to the Chiltern woods one side, and a twenty minute walk into town on the other.

Mandy Dowling runs the shop with the help of invaluable volunteers and Mandy’s award winning window dressing is a lesson to us all.

Inside is an Aladdin’s cave of Charity Chic, all donated, so that Mandy is never sure what will be brought in, which is part of the fun of working in a charity shop.

I found amongst many other ‘buys’ a pair of shoes, New Look. £5.00. Just the thing for clubbing. Slightly out of my age range, but only slightly, I say, hopefully.

More appropriate perhaps is the Laura Ashley Jacket for £5.00.

I found two beautiful slender white vases for £2.00 each and photographed them beside a neat black bowl with white dots. Sophisticated with clean lines. Mandy and I put them on top of a glass fronted cabinet that had been sold to someone who is going to upcyle it, in a distressed style. It was only £20 and I can’t believe I missed it.

Candle holders are my ‘thing’. These are often brought into the shop but these I left for someone else. I have no more room, and Dick would leave home if they came through the door. These are new, and priced at £4.00 each.

Christmas is coming and the shop is festive, with most of the decorations and Christmas bric a brac for sale. I found these little ‘friends’.

Smiley Face is £1.00, the glamour-puss bear is £2.00 and the book, The First Snow of Winter by Graham Ralph is a snip at 50p. (lovely book. I read it while I was standing there)

Over the last few weeks, Mandy and her staff have been snaffling up cafetieres for the Words for the Wounded LitFest Day on 18^th April. Look at my haul thus far. Priced at £3.00 each.

And yes, there are those magical moments you hear about on Antiques Roadshow. Mandy tells me of a dusty old painting that came into the shop and which could have slipped through their hands. But a bit of a rub (much like the gennii’s lamp) and a name appeared – Victoria Crowe who Mandy googled. It sold on ebay for £500.

To make a donation to Rennie Grove Hospice Care: www.renniegrove.org/donate or to volunteer www.renniegrove.org/volunteer

For further information: www.renniegrove.org/standards

There are so many more Aladdin’s Caves out there, doing good whichever way you look. The customers get a fabulous deal, and hours of fun browsing, and the charity gain much needed money. Contact us with tales of your favourite charity shops/stalls and the buys that have brought you pleasure. Contact margaret@margaret-graham.com

Frost Magazine

Books and Lifestyle

Author Archives: Margaret Graham

The Charity Chic Series Brings You The Charity Shops of Lyme Regis

A Kiwi Christmas By Julia Charity

What Do You Love About Christmas? By Mary Cooper

Poppy by Janet Pinder

November in Salema, Portugal – a Good Idea? By Jan Speedie

Trelinnoe Park With the Live Poets By Geni Ray Johnston

All Hell Let Loose In World War 1 By Wendy Breckon

Charity Chic in Downley, High Wycombe