tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91969545087650982252023-11-15T17:41:39.495+00:00The Bungalow at Cole Kitchena scrap book, in no particular order, of memories of a place, now gone.maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-71687210056484723052007-07-27T12:45:00.001+01:002007-07-27T12:50:13.883+01:00a tree is cut<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbHWX37SI/AAAAAAAAAPY/04KcfcMdRL0/s1600-h/grandad+ted+tree+01+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091841773030337826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbHWX37SI/AAAAAAAAAPY/04KcfcMdRL0/s400/grandad+ted+tree+01+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbH2X37TI/AAAAAAAAAPg/ql_Aich9y-o/s1600-h/grandad+ted+tree+02+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091841781620272434" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbH2X37TI/AAAAAAAAAPg/ql_Aich9y-o/s400/grandad+ted+tree+02+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbH2X37UI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Zukz0s2cqqI/s1600-h/grandad+ted+tree+03+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091841781620272450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbH2X37UI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Zukz0s2cqqI/s400/grandad+ted+tree+03+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbIGX37VI/AAAAAAAAAPw/eY7z_P3NEHY/s1600-h/grandad+ted+tree+04+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091841785915239762" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RqnbIGX37VI/AAAAAAAAAPw/eY7z_P3NEHY/s400/grandad+ted+tree+04+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Grandad - Ted Hazelden, directs uncle Ted Summer 1980 0r 81</div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-68904353213521808632007-06-23T08:54:00.000+01:002007-06-23T08:57:01.170+01:00Path to the cherry tree and compost heap<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RnzSEq2DNkI/AAAAAAAAAN0/A4M7NoGY9rQ/s1600-h/27+04+05+cherry+tree+path+toe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079165457429378626" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RnzSEq2DNkI/AAAAAAAAAN0/A4M7NoGY9rQ/s400/27+04+05+cherry+tree+path+toe.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RnzSE62DNlI/AAAAAAAAAN8/yjYcYhI-9D8/s1600-h/27+04+05+euphorbia+frgtmenots+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079165461724345938" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RnzSE62DNlI/AAAAAAAAAN8/yjYcYhI-9D8/s400/27+04+05+euphorbia+frgtmenots+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-81712784264356896532007-06-13T10:01:00.001+01:002007-06-13T10:02:51.216+01:00white lilac<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/Rm-yga2DNTI/AAAAAAAAAL0/2kdRK2PY4Pk/s1600-h/lilac+04+07.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075471575101420850" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/Rm-yga2DNTI/AAAAAAAAAL0/2kdRK2PY4Pk/s400/lilac+04+07.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/Rm-yga2DNUI/AAAAAAAAAL8/oIWgSrGIf6o/s1600-h/lilac+2+04+07.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075471575101420866" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/Rm-yga2DNUI/AAAAAAAAAL8/oIWgSrGIf6o/s400/lilac+2+04+07.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div>the last blooming of the lilac that my grandfather planted, caught here at the end of April 2007.</div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-77744044563995316092007-05-28T20:02:00.000+01:002007-05-28T20:05:43.643+01:00flowers & mirror<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/Rlsnmtj_RhI/AAAAAAAAAGs/AY44ST8DYxQ/s1600-h/flowersbymirrorz+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069689351554680338" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/Rlsnmtj_RhI/AAAAAAAAAGs/AY44ST8DYxQ/s400/flowersbymirrorz+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> preparing for the summer flower show. cut flowers in the back yard by a mirror - under a roof. First saturday in september, late 1990's I think.</div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-27607174289503529542007-05-22T12:59:00.001+01:002007-05-22T13:02:22.184+01:00japonica & boat<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLbMdj_RgI/AAAAAAAAAGk/FTaT1id365M/s1600-h/japonicaboat+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067353537885718018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLbMdj_RgI/AAAAAAAAAGk/FTaT1id365M/s400/japonicaboat+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div>A vase full of spring flowers beside Bunty's boat (I had been at the scout jumble sale in Gomshall quite some years before, where she had bought it for £5, a very successful jumble sale - I bought a suitcase at it in which to put all the stuff I had bought!). Not quite sure of the date of this image but I believe it to be 21st century!</div><div> </div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-81603283218917799082007-05-22T12:56:00.000+01:002007-05-28T20:06:22.891+01:00Nan's poppies<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLawdj_RfI/AAAAAAAAAGc/x1L_nwdX3wQ/s1600-h/poppies+86+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067353056849380850" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLawdj_RfI/AAAAAAAAAGc/x1L_nwdX3wQ/s400/poppies+86+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div>How many pictures have I taken of the poppies in the garden? I used to walk round the garden with my Nan, inspecting them all! These were blooms of 1986.</div><div></div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-88772512242294299802007-05-22T12:52:00.001+01:002007-05-22T12:55:21.480+01:00front door<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLZvtj_RcI/AAAAAAAAAGE/bfsBPpnKlwI/s1600-h/frontdoorheater+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067351944452851138" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLZvtj_RcI/AAAAAAAAAGE/bfsBPpnKlwI/s400/frontdoorheater+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLZv9j_RdI/AAAAAAAAAGM/lgeAmKqQHAE/s1600-h/frontdoorheater2+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067351948747818450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLZv9j_RdI/AAAAAAAAAGM/lgeAmKqQHAE/s400/frontdoorheater2+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />light through the front door - onto one of my favourite parraffin stoves, simple shape. These images were taken in 1986, probably May, perhaps Whitson week. The one below was taken some years later.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLZv9j_ReI/AAAAAAAAAGU/CpzFV_dmPYM/s1600-h/frontdoor+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067351948747818466" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlLZv9j_ReI/AAAAAAAAAGU/CpzFV_dmPYM/s400/frontdoor+e.jpg" border="0" /></a>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-32911864685292371882007-05-21T12:54:00.001+01:002007-05-22T13:03:49.170+01:00dressing table<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGIj9j_RZI/AAAAAAAAAFs/h5tyiz03P0s/s1600-h/dressingtablec+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066981207170827666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGIj9j_RZI/AAAAAAAAAFs/h5tyiz03P0s/s400/dressingtablec+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />sweet peas and roses on the dressing table.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGIkNj_RaI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Ce99ggGGbKc/s1600-h/selfportraiteye+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066981211465794978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGIkNj_RaI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Ce99ggGGbKc/s400/selfportraiteye+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />a self portrait in the mirror, my eye throught the sweet peas.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGJ9dj_RbI/AAAAAAAAAF8/51O4vRhyRsk/s1600-h/flowerswindowsill+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066982744769119666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGJ9dj_RbI/AAAAAAAAAF8/51O4vRhyRsk/s400/flowerswindowsill+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Summer 1998 I think.maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-46279607553205513472007-05-21T12:51:00.001+01:002007-05-21T12:54:01.602+01:00sofa in the garden<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGH7dj_RYI/AAAAAAAAAFk/qY0yWD9G_3U/s1600-h/sofaingarden+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066980511386125698" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlGH7dj_RYI/AAAAAAAAAFk/qY0yWD9G_3U/s400/sofaingarden+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div>perfect early summer seating.</div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>photographed late eighties early nineties.</em></span></div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-82998848968932164242007-05-21T10:44:00.000+01:002007-05-21T10:47:41.288+01:00the loo with a veiw<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFqMNj_RXI/AAAAAAAAAFc/CeC0Dxfr2C0/s1600-h/toilet+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066947813800101234" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFqMNj_RXI/AAAAAAAAAFc/CeC0Dxfr2C0/s400/toilet+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> This image was taken in 1987: the bucket toilet. Here seen with crab apple blossom, and the current art display. Oft times the door was unable to be closed and paricularly in the winter one could see above the hedge, across the field into the woods - and sometimes spot a deer or two.</div><div> </div><div> </div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-34318195167775396782007-05-21T10:36:00.000+01:002007-05-21T10:48:27.355+01:00bedroom window<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFpJNj_RWI/AAAAAAAAAFU/zST_GrVjGis/s1600-h/window+pink+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066946662748865890" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFpJNj_RWI/AAAAAAAAAFU/zST_GrVjGis/s400/window+pink+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFo-tj_RVI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ydldiwg1Efs/s1600-h/window+pink+3+e.jpg"></a><br />The flickering light through leaves and net curtains was always a preoccupation of mine in this house, right up to the last visit when it was almost empty. Many of the windows had shrubbery growing around them, or a tree filtering the light. A sense of lively movement on sunny days, even in the slightest of breezes - and of course as the earh moves so does the light around the room. <div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFokNj_RSI/AAAAAAAAAE0/8Qr-rnheDec/s1600-h/window+pink+2+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066946027093706018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFokNj_RSI/AAAAAAAAAE0/8Qr-rnheDec/s320/window+pink+2+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFokdj_RTI/AAAAAAAAAE8/hsT018olN5A/s1600-h/window+pink+3+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066946031388673330" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFokdj_RTI/AAAAAAAAAE8/hsT018olN5A/s320/window+pink+3+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-58664413066783404452007-05-21T10:35:00.001+01:002007-05-21T10:48:49.863+01:00birthday tea 1987<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFoDNj_RQI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ReiuXiv3SPs/s1600-h/birthday+tea+e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066945460158022914" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utQ1KyCIc_w/RlFoDNj_RQI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ReiuXiv3SPs/s400/birthday+tea+e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9196954508765098225.post-74341359613214630732007-05-21T09:40:00.000+01:002007-05-21T09:45:43.488+01:00memory of memory<strong>Green tin shed house in a valley<br /></strong><br />The smoke curls<br />from the red chimney pot<br />into the heavy mist.<br />Rose petals lie fragrant<br />on the damp dark soil,<br />trampled by thrushes<br />picking for snails.<br />Sweet peas<br />are full of the shower<br />that fell half an hour ago.<br />Patiently dripping,<br />the apple tree shelters<br />sweet scented stock and marigolds.<br /> Soon she will come<br />and pick my favourites<br />to place by my bed.<br /><br />I arrive late;<br />and awake to the fresh smell<br />of sweet peas and roses<br />mingled<br />with the familiar<br />aroma of paraffin.<br /><br /><br />I wrote this when I was perhaps 19 - it could have been just before or just after. I find it interesting that I chose to write about the place in misty damp weather, muted colours; not the sunny times that I have spent there, the glorous blue skied orange poppied spring days, or sharp frosty days....maura hazeldenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11190853689714901053noreply@blogger.com0