On Saturday night we headed to the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield to see Harold Pinter’s Betrayal. Betrayal is a reminiscence of a seven-year affair set in reverse beginning (or ending) in 1977 and ending (or beginning) in 1968. The stage, a revolving  glass platform, was littered underneath with tokens of a personal nature, the set dressed to bare minimum with pieces of furniture  suited to the period. What I love about the Crucible is the intimacy of it. It is not a big venue so where ever you sit you have a great view of the stage and you can actually see the actors clearly unlike arena shows where some of the seats are so far away from the act you may as well be watching from home.

I was particularly looking forward to seeing Betrayal because the character of Jerry was being played by John Simm an actor who’s television work I have enjoyed for many years. But he wan’t alone on the stage and the other cast members (Ruth Gemmell, Colin Tierney and Thomas Tinker) certainly didn’t disappoint. The dialogue was quick and the acting real and honest.

I have no idea where you would begin to write a stage play and even less idea of how the directors break it down or how the actors deliver the words so well to an audience who may not be familiar with the work of the writer to keep them engaged through the whole performance. Betrayal is the first Pinter play that I have seen, I hope it won’t be the last.

After the final curtain we went to the Crucible Corner pub for a quick post performance drink where, to our delight, we saw Ruth Gemmell and Thomas Tinker. While she waited at the bar to be served I took the opportunity to congratulate her on the performance and how much we had enjoyed the play.

But, it is not just a live performance that gives me the chills and makes me smile. This afternoon has been warm and sunny – quite a rare thing at the moment – so we, the boy and I, headed out into the garden. Yesterday we dug out the beach tent and put it up in the garden. Today, we sat in it and watched the bees dancing on the honeysuckle, then we hid from the garden tigers (everything is about tigers at the moment) in it and then blew hundreds of glistening bubbles over the top of it towards the fence where they bounced and broke into dewy drops.

Related articles

• John Simm on the genius of Pinter (guardian.co.uk)

For me (or, I should say, us) it is spending as much time outside as possible. I have always enjoyed walking and pottering in the garden. Some of my earliest and happiest memories are of my mum and I in the greenhouse, growing cucumbers, tomatoes and salads when I was a little girl. Thirty years on and I still love it.

I certainly don’t profess to be an horticultural expert but I adore the process of selecting seeds, dusting down the piles of plastic pots that sit underneath my potting bench, filling them with compost, sowing and growing.

The weather in April put paid to doing anything in the garden but dash across it in to the dry and relative warmth of the potting shed. Last year Jack was too small to enjoy the delights of a bag of warm potting compost but this year he is all over it. Give him a pot and a trowel and he can create a mess made of compost like no one else. He has an old chair pushed right up to the bench where he can team and ladle the dirt from one pot to another. The potting shed is my retreat when I want five minutes of solitude with a cup of tea, it is his when I get the lawn mower out.

Two weeks ago, on a very grey day, I treated the lawn to some weed and feed. The weed part was to try to rid it of the colourful carpet of dandelions that have happily taken root, the feed part was to try to coax the lawn to have at least a little bit of grass on it. I am tempted from time to time to start lifting the lawn bit by bit, lay some rugged brick paths and begin filling it in with lots of different plants to create an intertwined vegetable and flower garden; but then I feel I shouldn’t. I need something to mow.

One afternoon in April, while the rain was pouring outside, Jack and I spent an hour in the potting shed sowing courgette, peas, sunflowers and tomatoes. Weeks later they are thriving and this afternoon we potted the peas out against willow frames in two raised beds to the left of the lawn in a sunny spot. The courgettes have been transplanted in to a terracotta pot on the path in front of the shed where they can bask in the sunshine in the mornings before being treated to a little bit of shade in the afternoon. I have learned from experience to only plant one or two courgette plants as they produce such a prolific crop if looked after properly that more than that and we just can’t eat them quick enough. The tomatoes will stay in the shed, on the bench behind the glass where they will stay warm and grow luscious, round, red fruits.

On any ordinary day the town is a treat to visit but for one weekend a year the folk from the Festival of Folk take over and the party comes to town. For three days the streets hum with the sounds of the clogs clicking, sticks banging and bells jingling as the dancers and street performers bring their individual style of entertainment to the valley.

We first visited the festival a few years ago and spent a great day then perched on various seats and walls around the village, pint of local ale in hand enjoying the dancing, street performers and music in the spring sunshine – this year was no different.

Holmfirth is a maze of narrow streets, terraced cottages, tiny shops and old mill buildings which are beautiful and all add to the ambience of the festival. From the minute you arrive you feel the amazing atmosphere just waiting to be soaked up.

We spent what felt like an age in a que of traffic trying to get near the festival before abandoning the car and  heading off to find a drink and some dancing. We didn’t need to go far and we were not disappointed. You will never go hungry or thirsty at the festival. There are several pubs serving a variety of real ales, tea shops for a good brew and a scone, street BBQ’s for a quick burger pick-up and, of course, the humble chip – drenched in salt and vinegar and enjoyed out of the paper in the fresh air. After the spell of terrible weather we have been experiencing it was a relief to have a weekend of nice weather and be able to enjoy the sunshine without thinking about where to go to dodge the next downpour!.

Over the afternoon we saw groups of folk dancers dressed dramatically in their distinctive costumes, ladies dancing with handfuls of rhubarb (which I now know were the Rhubarb Tarts, a group of dancers from Wakefield), Morris dancers and the dance around the Maypole (which reminded me of the summer fête at primary school).

We barely broke the surface of how much entertainment there is to enjoy at the festival and missed out on many things, but the heavy sleeping child on our shoulders determined our departure.

The official website states that at dusk you should listen for the sound of the drums, look for the fire for and you may just be entertained by some fire dancers. Next year…..

Filed under: Archived posts, Out and About Tagged: BBC, Dance, Holme Valley, Holmfirth, Morris, Morris dance, Wakefield, West Yorkshire ]]> http://littlemuddyboots.co.uk/2012/05/13/holmfirth-festival-of-folk/feed/ 1 Sticks igrewthistoo Village Sticks Folk Dancing Maypole Hats http://littlemuddyboots.co.uk/2012/05/10/a-day-with-meerkats/ http://littlemuddyboots.co.uk/2012/05/10/a-day-with-meerkats/#comments Thu, 10 May 2012 13:51:25 +0000 Natalie http://littlemuddyboots.co.uk/?p=4051 ]]> …birds, squirrels, parrots, rabbits, goats, butterflies and turtles.

Just a quick post today but I wanted to share some pictures from our visit to the Tropical Butterfly House, Wildlife and Falconry Centre in South Yorkshire.

The Tropical Butterfly House

Web: www.butterflyhouse.co.uk

Telephone: 01909 569 416

I often wonder how I would manage if someone made off with my phone. How would I contact people, I don’t know their numbers as they are all stored in that little tiny piece of technology that accompanies me wherever I go. How would I check my email, view my “friends” on Facebook, Tweet some useless anecdote. Would I have to revert to logging my slow laptop on every time I wanted to social network or (shock horror) would I actually have to pick up the phone and talk. My mum despairs of it, she thinks the art of conversation is dead  but my mother-in-law freely admits that she would be lost without her iPhone.

I get loads of text everyday, some are just a few words, others run in to chapter and verse of that days events, sometimes I get texts that really do put a smile on my face. This is one I got earlier in the week:-

“Hello Mrs. We are having a mini girls night round at yours on Thursday, you, me and Lesley. We’ll bring the dinner, pud and wine. See you at 7.30 ish, Jules”

It was not only the brilliant idea, free food and wine and the knowledge these two friends were coming round to cheer me up a bit that was so great about the text. It was the fact that it didn’t give me time to think of a reason why it shouldn’t happen. There was no “I have to be up early”, “let me check my diary” or “can  I call you back?” like there may have been if the idea had been delivered over the phone or in person. I just simply typed back “excellent idea, can’t wait”. I was committed!

As Jules and Lesley were bringing the food I decide that I had to make  an effort with dressing the table. The high chair was stashed in the kitchen, the table polished and scraped of its sticky finger marks and laid out with my best Kath Kidston crockery and napkins. I dusted down my crystal wine glasses and put tall fluted glasses in the freezer for the Prosecco. I even bought candles.

We enjoyed our Prosecco while nibbling on nachos and dips before sitting down to the main course of slow cooked chilli beef and fluffy white rice. As full as we were we still managed to squeeze down a couple of deliciously rich profiteroles before admitting defeat and crashing in the living room with our wine.

It was a great night and while we wished each other a good night via Facebook after we had parted company I do know one thing – the art of conversation is most certainly not dead.

Here’s to the next girls night in (or out) – I will cook next time.

Guacamole

The recipe below is for a delicious guacamole that I made for a recent get together over at Jules’ house. She has been badgering me for the recipe so here it is. It is based on the Lemony Guacamole recipe from River Cottage Veg Everyday by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall.

• ½ a red chilli, de-seeded and very finely chopped
• Juice of a lemon
• Half a clove of garlic, very fines chopped (or passed through a garlic press)
• 2 large, very ripe avocados
• 1 tablespoon of olive oil
• Salt and pepper to season