june july 08

good cateress newsletter june/july 08


I am sitting in our garden, here in Harlem, as I write this. A gray, humid day; at least here we always have a bit of a breeze. I have walked around to check that all the plants are healthy and in their optimum spot; sometimes I feel as though they cannot grow without me watching and encouraging each little shoot.

The herbs which were struggling a couple of months ago, as the sparrows and starlings were plucking leaves from them daily, to line their nests. I wonder, do the fat fluffy fledglings that are now feeding and watering in the garden, recognize the gardens fragrant plants? We loved to watch the courting male Cardinal, bring seeds to his mate sitting patiently on the fence, then feeding them to her. Surely this is love! I know the scientists are saying, no, this is survival. We have lost a few Turtle Doves to the feral cats, but there always seem to be seven in the garden.

I had planned to continue writing about my summer in France this month, but the Isle of Wight seems to want its turn.

This weekend on the Isle of Wight, it is 'Round the Island’ Race. Literally racing around the Island, encountering all the various tides, winds, currents. If it is a beautiful breezy day, it is quite wonderful to see, but occasionally a gray, squally day happens. I haven't seen the race in 25 years, but it was always an incredible sight. In the early years we would get up early, drive around to Cowes, to watch the start of the race from in front of the Royal Yacht Squadron. The cannon would fire and the big yachts that had all been jostling for advantage would take off. Brightly coloured spinnakers would be hauled up the masts, filling with wind. Their colours and designs stark against the green sea.

I always prefer to see the the yachts further west near Yarmouth or south when we lived in Chale looking out into the Channel. Looking out from the cliffs, the sea filled with a myriad of boats, sails, every size and color. A friend of ours likened the sight, as similar to seeing the Jurassic Coast as it had been millions of years before, instead of yachts, dinosaurs in all their shapes and sizes, wallowing in marshes and swamp that were the coast of that time.

The race weekend was always a hectic one at the Folly Inn. Even in the 60's it was one of the weekends that we went to help Murray and Janette. At 11 years old I would man the snack bar, truly one of my all time favorite jobs. The line continuous for 3 hours or so, as I called back to Janette and Mum in the kitchen, 'more sausages, chicken, soup, cheese, rolls’. Simon could be found sorting bottles when he wasn't digging rag worms from the low tide mud or fishing; Diana was barmaid. We all had our jobs.

Diana and I would relax in the afternoon, listening to her albums, Sgt. Pepper, Pet Sounds, Johnny Cash, as we ate Mars Bars and Kit Kat.

Later in the early 70's when we were all living at the Folly; sometime in July it would be the inter Island schools regatta. I didn't race, Simon did, but I would be a runner and so have the day off school. Between running and chatting to everyone, I would go back to the old swing. The swing was beside the river, so I would swing high, watching the river and boats, singing to myself. How I loved that swing!

There were always a variety of people living on boats and a man who lived in his car. The boat people came and went, some were there for a few years, working on their boats readying them for world voyagers, some for a few months, others just preferred boat life. When Ann and Rob were living on Anaurus, Simon and I would row out for cake.

I always liked the old boats like the Gaffers, so magnificent in the water with all their sails erect. There were 2 or 3 of them at different times moored out front, also an old steam yacht. Les, who had the Marguerite T would come ashore on saturday nights with his guitar, sit singing sea shanties in the corner. It was difficult among all the hubbub behind the bar to hear him, until towards the end of the evening he would be singing everyone's favorites, "Go no more a roving" Heave ho", "Rule Britannia" and the chorus's were sang with a roar as a bar full of people joined in.

Partying would continue on the boats long after the pub was closed; the noise of people talking, singing, laughing, others calling for them to shut up. Splashes of people either jumping or falling in the river. We would always worry about accidents. One night there was one.


It was a friday in May, early in the season, the water and weather was still chilly, although it had been a pretty day. Simon was away in Australia; Mum, dad and I had decided we would watch the late movie 'The Ipcress Files'. About half an hour into the movie, we heard shouting. Mum jokingly said 'I'll look at my watch, so that we know what time we heard the shouting’. We laughed, as this was nothing new we heard shouts from boats all the time. A few more minutes passed and this was clearly very serious. Dad went downstairs and opened the terrace doors, saying as he went " I know exactly what this problem is going to be”.

A couple had walked along the river from Newport to the Folly for an evening drink; had stayed the entire night and left very drunk. Instead of walking back, they decided to 'borrow' a dinghy from the dinghy park. Yacht owners left their dinghy's here in good faith, without rowllock's and oars the dinghy's were useless. Anyway, this couple found two pieces of driftwood to use as oars, pushed the dinghy into the river, got in and tried to row. The tide took them into the middle of the river, the wood, proved useless, so they began to argue and the dinghy capsized. Between the strong tides and freezing water they did not stand a chance.

Dad called the police, the police boat arrived. We knew all the boat police, they were frequent visitors, just checking everything out from foreign visitors not allowing their pets on land, no rabies in England; to drug smuggling. The RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institute) arrived, the Coast Guard helicopter was flying up and down the river. Needless to say we never saw The Ipcress File, we were making coffee and sandwiches all night for the rescue boats and crew.

For a few weeks I dreaded walking along the river in case I was the one to find one of the bodies. The woman's body surfaced first, the mans a week later. Both still in the river. Unlike the man who dove off the chain ferry connecting East Cowes and Cowes. His girlfriend had accidentally dropped her handbag over board one night, he dove in to retrieve it; two days later his body washed up in Brighton.

We were home on the Island from Germany for the first Isle of Wight Pop Festival in 1969 at Woodside; about five miles from the Folly. At that time, we had afield for camping and in August there would be a marquee up for all the sailing club dinners and events. I remember that we did not know what to expect for the Pop Festival, and truthfully did not think it would impact us at all. But hippies started to come and camp then walk over to the festival; some even slept in the marquee. Others sailed over, including a German film crew, headed up by Alex, a handsome wild blond man. Alex became friends with everyone and became a frequent visitor. He would come for breakfast each morning and regale us with all the stories from the festival. I was not allowed to attend as I was too young, but I sat in the garden listening to the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan.

The following year, we were living back on the Island at the Folly, but this time it was the big festival on the south of the Island. Diana and I went this time. We saw Donovan, Jethro Tull, Moody Blues and Jimi Hendrix. I always loved Jimi Hendrix's song Manic Depression. Num has recorded his own version on his upcoming album Oklahoma Freedmans Son, which is quite fabulous. I will let you all know we have the music and video up on myspace.
Dada and Murray came to pick us up at 2am, we walked miles back to the car, listening to the music as we walked along the small country roads, the stars bright in the clear sky.

Summer food: fresh tuna nicoise; baby new potatoes in vinaigrette or hot with Irish butter; Home-made Turkey burgers; chocolate pound cake with raspberry gelato. Salads, with crunchy kirby cucumbers and field grown New Jersey tomatoes sprinkled with chopped parsley and scallions; ratatouille with roast chicken.
Sandwiches: salmon and cucumber; cheese and tomato, ham and mustard all mixed with the odd grain of sand from being eaten on the beach.

Summer days, make me feel fine....