HATTATT

Let it not be thought for a single moment that your good wishes, your concern for our well being and your many, many kindnesses expressed on our last post of Friday, 31st. October 2014, as well as through emails and letters, should have passed unnoticed. We have been so very touched by your warm heartedness and generosity of spirit making our thanks so completely inadequate. But thank you we do, and from the bottom of our hearts.

Jane Hattatt within the hotel in Pocitos, Montevideo, Uruguay [January 2015]

Lance Hattatt on the cliff top at Casapueblo, Uruguay [January 2015]

So, disdaining taking the waters of the Spa towns and cities which punctuate the British Isles and much of Europe, mindful of the sanatoriums of Switzerland and fearful of the December chill winds of the Riviera, we ventured for recuperation to far flung South America and the capital of Uruguay, Montevideo.

In truth this had been arranged for the better part of a year when travel plans had been made with what now must be regarded as our erstwhile friend and guide whose behaviour, seen in retrospect, has proved to be both disappointing and alarmingly dishonest.

However, such joy that we went. Staying in the Pocitos area of Montevideo we delighted in the warmth of the summer sun, the broad sandy beaches, the shade of a local park, in delicious dinners to be found in nearby restaurants, in good local wines and in all the sights and sounds so very different from the cities of Europe.

shopping abroad - always to be found as a very different experience

one of many colourful streets to be explored in Pocitos, Montevideo

a favourite local restaurant, El Viejo y Querido, in Pocitos, Montevideo

Of course there were the museums, a day excursion to Punta del Este, a rather over priced and over glamorised resort along the coast, picturesque Casapueblo, fireworks at New Year, strolls along the Rambla and endless people watching. In the main though, Lazy Tarts as we are, we did very little and loved and relished every single moment.

the beach at Punta del Este, a resort on the coast of Uruguay

before the heat of the day, a solitary figure on the beach at Montevideo

But of everything, most lasting will be the connections made and the memories of the people, old and young alike, who became a part of our daily lives and whose warmth, vivacity and friendship have found for them a very special place in our hearts.

the smiling face of the waiter at the restaurant, El Viejo y Querido

together with the staff of our local café and wine bar, La Dulcería

Now a new year stretches ahead with so much yet to happen and so much to which to look forward. But for the present we are happy once more to be back with you all and give to each one of you our warmest wishes for a peaceful and prosperous 2015. Happy New Year!

paddling in the shallows of the River Plate [January 2015]

The museums of Montevideo are of particular interest on two counts. First, there is universal free admission when, erratically of course, they are open. Secondly, they contain very little in the way of exhibits. Sparsely furnished rooms, oddly curated ephemera, scant information, in Spanish alone, and a complete absence of other visitors is the order of the day. However, none of this should deter the contemporary traveller or explorer. Far from it since, when one does finally secure entry, these 'Museo' are hidden gems in the fascinating crown of cultural history of Uruguay.

at the entrance to the Museo de Juan Zorrilla de San Martin, Montevideo, Uruguay

the windows of the museum draped in lace curtains forming protection from the sunlight

Our guide book promised that the Museo de Juan Zorrilla de San Martin, the summer house of the nineteenth century poet and diplomat of that name, would provide a café, a shop, an air-conditioned gallery space as well as a museum. Within sight of the sea, a pretty white Andalusia style villa, built in 1904 and expanded in 1921, and set within peaceful gardens hid amongst towering modern apartment blocks waiting to be discovered.

a green oasis, the gardens of the museum, now overlooked by apartment blocks

a typical tiled fireplace to be found in the villa's principal reception room

the poet-diplomat's simply furnished bedroom on the ground floor of the villa

Simply furnished and tenderly kept, complete with its private chapel, the villa proved to be a pure delight. It was as if the poet himself had merely stepped out for a moment and we were welcome guests free to roam at will. And, all around the house, a lush green 'hortus conclusus' decorated with vivid blue tiles, provided a calm and shady sanctuary from the searing heat of the summer sun. Peace was gently broken by a gentle fountain without a café, shop, gallery or other visitor to be seen.

the two intrepid tourists of the day, camera to the ready, examine the books in the poet's library

the private chapel within the villa, an aspiration as yet, and most likely never, to be fulfilled

Also whitewashed but in every other sense completely different, Casapueblo situated between the Uruguayan coastal towns of Piriapolis and Punta del Este, is visually eccentric and stunningly beautiful in its setting. A huge Gaudi-esque house-sculpture, it was begun in 1960 by the artist Carlos Páez Vilaró around a shack in which he was living. It grew first into a studio, then a house with accommodation for friends, and then finally, as it has become today, an hotel and museum as a monument to the artist and his work.

the entrance to Casapueblo, the museum of the artist Carlos Páez Vilaró

Casapueblo, glimpsed in the background, overlooking the South Atlantic

We risked life and limb to photograph the exterior of this extraordinary building, as it clings to the rock with the South Atlantic Ocean at its feet, avoiding as we did the hordes of day trippers and tourists and the greatly overpriced museum entrance fee.

the dramatic situation of Casapueblo perched above the South Atlantic Ocean

Take us back to Montevideo, we cried. How we had loved the vintage cars in the Museo del Automovil Club del Uruguay, especially the Armstrong Siddeley and the cache of trophies won by Hector Suppici Sedes, a Uruguayan racing driver killed in a crash in Chile in 1948. And what pleasure we had had in exploring the near bare rooms of the charming Palacio Taranco, housing as it does the Museo de Artes Decorativas.

But, no matter its free admission, we had given the Museo del Fútbol a miss!

'It is a truth universally acknowledged', to borrow from Jane Austen, that the British coastline is gradually, but steadily, being eroded away. On this we speak with a degree of authority. But lest we digress further, let us explain.

Whilst Budapest remains home to us, for some months now we have toyed with the idea of a place by the sea - proper sea. For although we enjoy the time we spend in Brighton, which we shall continue so to do, we crave soft sand, rock pools, fishing fleets, pleasure boats, cliff walks, seaweed, ozone in the air, deckchairs for hire, indeed all of those things associated with seaside holidays from childhood, now rather too long ago.

'On the Coast, Isle of Wight' [1860 Frederic, Lord Leighton]

So, availing ourselves of the internet and establishing with the various estate agents our intention to buy 'off plan', so to speak, for to arrange an actual viewing, we decided, involved far too much time and effort and would, almost certainly, become tedious, we set about our search.

'Near Swanage' [1916 Mark Gertler]

We favoured Dorset. An apartment, directly overlooking Durlston Bay in Swanage and sited at the cliff edge, we thought it wise to abandon when it was revealed that the authorities could no longer maintain or support coastal defences and that the magnificent views of the sea crashing against the rocks below were likely to become even better, and that before we had finished placing the furniture.

'Ventnor from the East Cliff' [1899]

In Ventnor, on the Isle of Wight, we fell in love, on line of course [the estate agents produce such alluring pictures], with a charming little Edwardian villa. The first sentence of the structural survey report, when we read it, indicated that our desired house was in a 'landslip zone'. We moved on, and so perhaps did the villa.

'Barbican & River Stour, Sandwich, Kent [1900 Henry Maurice Page]

Sandwich, an attractive mediaeval town and Cinque Port, now two or so miles inland from the Kent coast, seemed perfect. A pretty terraced cottage, nestling within the Conservation area, upon which we set our hearts, was prone to flooding. We let it go.

the exterior of a house which we actually, and unusually, saw

Lance Hattatt taking a bracing walk along the promenade

Warned away from both Lyme Regis [more shades of Miss Austen] and Cromer, and not a little dispirited, we journeyed to Cornwall in the belief that we should do so much better if on the spot. Four days later we returned to Hungary satisfied that our search was over. A stone built, late Victorian house, a pebble's throw from the sea, seemed ideal, the eight hour bus journey from London a mere nothing. Sadly the dream died with the discovery of high levels of Radon lurking within all those rocks.

'Bournemouth by the Sea' [1896 Henry Maidment]

Let us not bore you with the detail of the brand new, Art Deco style apartment in Bournemouth, and never let it be said that the chance remark overheard of 'Bournemouth for the newly wed or nearly dead' affected our decision in any way. Nor will we repeat here our eulogies for a smuggler's cottage on the borders of Devon or a mansion flat in Eastbourne. Suffice it to say, they have come and gone.

'Norwich Cathedral' [1955 David Freeman]

For at last we are settled. It is for Norwich we are enthusing and if this cathedral city, to which we have never been, and this artisan cottage, which we have yet to see and will not until it is finally ours, are as far removed from the sea as can be, then so be it.

Steeped in history, replete with period features, our little house, built originally for the workers of the Colman's Mustard Factory, will, we are sure, provide a wonderful holiday home from which to explore both the historical city, surrounding towns and unspoilt countryside beyond. In a matter of just a few weeks we shall take possession, and how exciting is that!

Christmas Day 2010, Sunset over the Terraces of Norwich [Unknown]

Now, what was that about earthquakes?

[We have been unable to ascertain ownership of the image, Christmas Day 2010, but will be pleased to provide full acknowledgement]

Our love affair with Farrow and Ball, their paints of course, not the men, has endured for three decades and more. For our post-war Collins' house in Southampton, it was love at first brushstroke. 'Smoked Trout', 'Mouse's Back', 'Picture Gallery Red' and 'Cooking Apple Green' all found their way onto our walls and into our hearts.

Farrow and Ball, these paint perfectionists with their deliciously named tints and tones, convinced us that although we had flirted with Dulux, Zoffany and Crown in the past, only Farrow and Ball, founded in Dorset in the 1930s and still there today, was the real deal when it came to decorating.

the deliciously named shades of the Farrow and Ball colour wheel

a recent redecoration of our Budapest kitchen using Farrow and Ball 'Old White'

So our timber framed Herefordshire cottage, our follies and garden rooms and our Regency Brighton flat were all decorated in elegantly colourful Farrow and Ball style. The colour palette from which our choices were made was as extensive as it was seductive. We defied fads, trends or 'hot' colours of the year as we enhanced our rooms with 'Dayroom Yellow', 'Oval Room Blue', 'Vert de Terre' and 'Elephant's Breath'.

our painter at work in our Budapest kitchen where 'Old White' is teamed with 'Lime White'

Then the 'grande passion' arrived in the form of decorating our 200 square metre Budapest apartment with its 15ft ceiling heights. Untouched for 50 years and in multiple occupancy, it was a sorry, unloved sight of peeling plaster, grime blackened, of unspeakable bathroom, and a plethora of dark brown, gloss paint. 'Lime White' was to be the knight in shining armour. Eggshell for the woodwork, Estate Emulsion for the walls, all 92 litres of it shipped from London. Rapture. And so it was.

'Lime White' , a colour used extensively in our Budapest apartment

The soon to be ours, Norwich terraced house is a blank canvas. But what colours to choose? Whatever, our artist friend, Enrico, of whom note should be taken, said, "Farrow and Ball, it is so last year!" Annie Sloan's 'chalk paint' is, apparently, what is colouring all the best drawing rooms these days. After all, according to the 'World of Interiors', "it will transform even the drabbest bunker into a haven".

it is for 'Little Greene' we are now enthusing

But, we have been seduced by another! Little Greene has been producing paint and paper since as long ago as 1773. With its reassuringly high pigment levels, this paint offers a depth of colour with undertones that subtly change in different lights providing real character and definition. With 49 [not 50] shades of grey, who can resist? Not us!

P.S. We are not in the employ, nor do we have any connection with, any paint company whatsoever!!

We no longer garden. Or so we thought. Indeed, even the few containers placed along the walkway of our Budapest apartment, and intended to add colour to our lives, albeit with the ubiquitous pelargonium, more often than not remain empty. It is simply that we are no longer interested in the way in which we once were. Perhaps twenty-five years of intensive, concentrated gardening, during which time we created a formal, two acre garden which gained National recognition, is enough for one lifetime.

And now our newly acquired seaside holiday home, which is not of course by the sea, comes with a garden, which we should not call a garden, but rather describe [and here we part company with the estate agents, their property details and photographs] as a barren strip of ground, walled in part, some 10m x 5m, the principal feature of which, although none of this has yet been seen, appears to be a neighbour's washing line.

What is to be done? We consult our books, and first some of those for which we must take a responsibility. 'Gardening in a Small Space' [upon what authority was it based?] suggests nothing, neither does 'The Gardening Year' [beyond work] nor 'Gardening with Colour' [which, in any case, is not what we are about].

hopes for inspiration here sadly rapidly dashed

month by month, season by season, year round toil

more concentrated labour but in Hungarian

unsuitable for those in their monochrome phase

But something may yet evolve. For cannot a reasonably sized, brick built outhouse situated at the far end of the garden become a focal point, converted to a summerhouse, a garden room, even a folly, from which will stretch [forgive a tendency to hyperbole] a broad terrace of York stone punctuated with buttresses of English yew, Taxus baccata, and approached through an avenue of Irish Yew, Taxus baccata 'Fastigiata', complete with water jet, classical urns [can you assist, Tom Stephenson?] and topiary?

Why not? Taking inspiration from a recently found image on 'Pinterest' and recalling The Tower and Rill of our own Herefordshire garden, we see a way forward.

an image discovered on 'Pinterest' which may well inspire the new garden

recalling our Herefordshire garden, an idea to be adapted for Norwich

This could indeed be our solution for a low maintenance, yet hopefully stylish and interesting, garden of the kind to be found behind every artisan, terraced cottage, of which ours is but one, the length and breadth of Norwich. Why not indeed? And do be assured of some 'before' and 'after' photographs.

Meanwhile what of the front? Measuring some............!!

"Here today, up and off to somewhere else tomorrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement. The whole world before you, and a horizon that's always changing!" [Kenneth Grahame 'The Wind in the Willows']

the cathedral city of Norwich, Norfolk

We are repairing to Norwich to take possession of our new house! As a result we shall be unable to post, comment or reply to comments over the next two to three weeks. We shall much look forward to returning and catching up with everyone towards the end of the month.

It began with groceries from Waitrose. Lured by delicious images, a few clicks of the mouse, no wayward trolleys or aisle miles to worry about and the goodies delivered directly into the kitchen in the capable hands of a friendly driver. We were hooked. The world of online shopping had entered our lives and secured a place in our hearts.

online shopping for groceries a necessary part of our lives when in the UK

Success in the bidding wars of 'ebay' brought silver pepper shakers and Carlton Ware to us via Royal Mail. Navigating the Hungarian online equivalent, 'Vatera', proved both technically and linguistically challenging but, one happy day, four 1950s 'cocktail' chairs were ours. Amazon secured a rare copy of James Lees Milne and 'Gumtree', most recently, furnished us with a 1920s sideboard courtesy of Neville, a man with a van. As we tend not to be overly fond of shops in general how much better this was, we agreed, to buy from the comfort of home and await deliveries at the hall door.

a 1920s sideboard - a purchase made on 'Gumtree' and delivered by the obliging Neville

the sideboard installed in the dining room of the newly acquired Norwich holiday home

And so, when a house was required as an alternative to our Brighton 'rooms', we 'booted up', 'googled', 'searched' and 'surfed' the world wide web to find what in our mind's eye we were looking for. Rightmove, Primelocation and Zoopla became the tools of our trade. Virtual tours of properties from Anglesey to Zennor filled our computer screens from dawn to dusk.

one of the many online property companies of which we made much use

We zoomed in on Google maps, we analysed floor plans, we walked the streets with the aid of 'Street View', we noted crime statistics, the employment status and age profile of our virtual neighbours via 'Street Check', comparing prices and property trends as we clicked merrily along. Geological surveys warned of landslips and Radon Zones, floodplains highlighted areas at risk and a store locator ensured the presence of John Lewis and Waitrose close to hand should we ever feel the need to make a real visit.

Finally, our target was in sight. Emails to our solicitor ensured that our personal presence in the entire purchase process would not be necessary, as indeed it was not. A small but perfectly formed Victorian, artisan terraced house, dating from 1887, complete with original sash windows, picture rails, cornicing, working fireplaces and two very modern bathrooms was to be ours.

detailing around the sash windows at the front of the house makes for interest

a typical Victorian fireplace and surround to be found in the dining room

a bedroom fireplace, the size of which can hardly have been adequate to heat the room

Airline and 'bus tickets, bought on line of course, would take us there.

Did the reality match the dream? We turned the real key in the actual lock.

the inevitable work which comes with every move - some of many boxes awaiting unpacking

Love at first sight. A very modern romance, we thought, about to begin.

the drawing room on our next visit to be decorated in 'Little Greene' French Grey

Of late we have been doing the round of the Embassies. We are most fortunate to count among our close friends the Ambassador to Hungary of the Republic of Latvia and his wife and, as a result, find ourselves as guests at many of the wonderful concerts and events sponsored by that country.

As recently as last month we were privileged to be asked to attend the Occasion of the 25th. Anniversary of the Day of Restoration of the Independence of Lithuania where a recital, to include works by Bach and Mozart, as well as by contemporary composers such as Dino Saluzzi and Gorka Hermosa, was given by the outstandingly talented accordionist, Martynas Levickis.

Before that we enjoyed the most marvellous evening at the Finnish Embassy and next month we are eagerly anticipating the screening of a new Estonian-Icelandic-Latvian-Lithuanian documentary film.

James Black, Producer/Director, Gulf Atlantic Pictures at the British Embassy

But where, you may well ask, is all of this leading? Well, put simply, only hours ago we found ourselves in the British Embassy for the launch of 'LOVE IN BUDAPEST', a film to be shot entirely on location here in the City.

a flyer to promote the new film 'Love in Budapest' at the British Embassy

the Old Banking Hall of the British Embassy for the launch of 'Love in Budapest'

That in itself is so very exciting. Even more so is the fact that we are both now under contract to appear in this 'non-stop song and dance romantic adventure' in the small part of Miss Dottie, a radio presenter, and the more major role of Robert, the owner of the Dance Theatre, described as 'a much loved haven for talented and aspiring dancers', in which much of the action is set.

Jane Hattatt/Miss Dottie, centre, with Eszter Boyd-Gibbins and Mark Lakatos

Lance Hattatt/Robert, second from left, with Astrida Liegis, Ari Kupsus & Krisztina Kovács

Produced as an Anglo-Hungarian co-operation by Gulf Atlantic Pictures, under the direction of James Black, and to go out to a global audience in 2016 this is, we are confident, a film no-one will wish to miss.

James Black and Marianna Muroczki, Assistant Producer, in the British Embassy

Jane Hattatt in conversation with Richard and Julia Lock in the British Embassy

So for now we are talking 'movies'! Soon 'Speed', 'Rolling', 'Action' and 'Cut' will, we imagine, become part of our everyday world. Until then, lines must be learnt, character developed, lipstick applied and nails painted!!

a flyer for the forthcoming film 'Love in Budapest'

Move over Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt!!

[With the exception of the last, all images in this post are by kind permission of Gyula Sopronyi whose exhibition, 'Floating Aspect', opens in Budapest on the 28th. April 2015]

'Teddy, Jane and Lance At Home', Painting by Orr Máté

In this era of 'Me, Myself and I', when social media is littered with flattering images, mostly, one suspects, photoshopped to a greater or lesser degree, of beautiful people intent on recognition, self advertisement and/or self promotion, we hesitate, after an absence of almost six years, to appear to follow the same route. But lest we should be totally forgotten by those who have faithfully continued to follow, we felt a little reminder might not go amiss. And for this we ask your indulgence.

The painting, 'Teddy, Jane and Lance At Home', now hanging in our Budapest Drawing Room, was not a commission. We should hope that our arrogance does not extend that far. Rather the artist, Orr Máté, to write the name in the Hungarian way, thought, with a portrait competition in mind, that it might be fun to portray Teddy, who has not had a public outing for some considerable time, in this way. We are included to give balance to the composition! That said, we were, and are, delighted to have Teddy immortalised on canvas and, even more so, to count Máté as one of our closest friends here in Hungary. Represented by the Várfok Gallery in Budapest, he has established an international reputation and his work is now widely collected.

These are uncertain, difficult and challenging times when human contact, real and virtual, perhaps matters more than ever before. What better time to make a come back to the world of Blogger and to catch up with past friends and, hopefully, forge friendships anew.

Drawing Room, Budapest

Teddy on the Regency sofa on this Winter afternoon

We much look forward to the times ahead.

Richard Alexander Hattatt, known to us as Uncle Dick, was a prodigious collector. An astute businessman, first running the family firm, 'The Hampshire Preserving Co. Ltd.', followed by a career in advertising where the company, Riggs and Hattatt, amongst other coups, secured the contract for promoting Heineken lager, his wealth was created through commerce, later to be redirected into amassing a notable collection of antiquities.

Richard Alexander Hattatt, Scotland, 1930

Never an Adonis, the apocryphal family story was that, at his birth, when presented with the new born baby, his mother exclaimed, "My God, he looks a hundred." Notwithstanding, he married twice, in each case to glamorous women, disavowing the adage of age wearing or the years condemning.

The Hampshire Preserving Co. Ltd., Romsey, Hampshire

Staff photograph, 1930s. RAH standing on far right.

He had a propensity for choosing cavernous, somewhat ugly houses and, in his later years, became something of a recluse, retiring to a rambling bungalow on the Hampshire coast where he reduced the extensive garden to a desert of concrete paving in the interests of ease of maintenance. Adopting a frugal lifestyle as a widower, water was boiled, not in a kettle, but in a small baked bean can to provide exactly the amount required for a cup of Instant Coffee. The weekly menu, mostly to be had from tinned food, never varied so that shopping was efficiently carried out and the smallest increase in price noted.

Tinned fruit, vegetables and jam, exported throughout the world

Those honoured with an invitation from Uncle Dick to visit were treated to a wonderful experience. Housed in legions of chests, cabinets, cupboards and cases was 'The Collection', pieces of museum quality, true treasures of the Ancient World. A frequent traveller with Sir Mortimer Wheeler on archeological digs, Uncle Dick established a collection of Greek and Roman artefacts, said to be one of the finest in private hands, and made a name for himself in writing what are now regarded as definitive works on the subject. Amongst his 200 or more Greek pots was a new Athenian black-figure artist on an Attic white-ground Amphora representing 'Dionysus and The Return of Hephaestos' which has been named Mr. Hattatt's painter.

Amphora decorated by the Hattatt Painter with RAH's books.

Roman brooches became a passion, and it was these which earned him academic recognition. Each one of his 1,600 examples were meticulously drawn, catalogued and mounted on uniform white blocks, each bearing type-written identification and bibliographical detail. He was elected a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries in 1983 and, for his generous donations to the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, his name was placed amongst their 'Roll of Honour' on the Museum's main staircase.

The Roll of Honour, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.

His funeral in 1992 was attended by a distinguished few, mainly representatives of the Devizes Museum, Ashmolean Museum and British Museum whose institutions were the main beneficiaries of his will. Prudent to the end, his philanthropic bequests may have avoided what would have been crippling inheritance taxes but served to enrich museum collections for the enjoyment of all.

Views of The Arrow Cottage Garden, Herefordshire

We are often asked if we miss our garden. In short, the answer is no. Besides, it is now almost twenty years since we left Herefordshire for Budapest, exchanging some two acres of formal gardens for a single container of clipped box, Buxus sempervirens, on our walkway. Even that is work!

View of Box plant in The Budapest Garden

But the memories do, to use a well worn cliché, linger on. And no more so than in what we term the Front Hall. Lest there be any confusion, allow us to explain that the Front Hall opens off the main staircase of our C19 apartment building and, in turn, provides access to our Main Hall and principal rooms. However, linger we do not!

Front Hall viewed from the Entrance Door

To be absolutely truthful, in Winter, as of now, in terms of temperature, the thermometer is no stranger to several degrees below freezing whilst in Summer, with the windows thrown open to the courtyard below, the heat can prove insufferable. Not at all unlike the extremes of a gardening year that perhaps accounts for why we have chosen to paint the walls in Farrow and Ball's 'Breakfast Room Green' and furnish it with some of the items brought from our Herefordshire garden.

Front Hall looking from the Main Hall

Not least of these is the country style, farmhouse kitchen table which used to sit below The Tower, the accompanying schoolroom benches have found a place on the walkway, and which, in past times, played host to many a Summer supper party.

Beneath The Tower, The Arrow Cottage Garden

Now, collected together, in a quasi-David Hicks' table-scape, are some mementoes of our gardening days. Prominent, as a centrepiece, is the grape entwined basket, a gift from dearest friends, Lesley and John Jenkins, whose garden, Wollerton Old Hall, ranks among the finest of all late C20 English gardens.

'Table-scape' with ceramic basket and garden ephemera

Less noticeable, a small, hand painted finial serves to remind us of the gifted artist and gallery owner, Elizabeth Organ, who was so much a treasured part of our lives. Other items worthy of a place range from a miniature wooden trug, home to garden related ephemera, to galvanised flower vases and the head of a spade decorated by the Hungarian artist, Franyo Aatoth.

Miscellaneous objects in the Front Hall

The grey painted, metal chairs were originally purchased as a set of six for the White Garden, in name only resembling Vita Sackville West's masterpiece at Sissinghurst Castle. With the addition of swab cushions they are now far more in the way of decoration than for daily use.

White Garden, The Arrow Cottage Garden, Herefordshire

Now, with Spring around the corner, shall we decorate with daffodils, highlight with hyacinths, or place pelargoniums in pots? Let's not, and say we did!

Recently, whilst watching a dramatisation on YouTube of Henry James's splendid novel, 'The Spoils of Poynton', we rather delighted in Mrs. Gereth's somewhat disparaging remark, "Not a double door in sight."

Double doors leading from the Drawing Room

Now, we should not wish to boast, nor indeed resort to hyperbole, but the fact remains that we are, to paraphrase Mrs. Bennet and to continue in a literary frame, "in possession of" seven sets of double doors.

Such good fortune, if it can be seen as such, arises from the expansion of Budapest during the late C19 when, following The Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867 which re-established, albeit partially, the former sovereignty of the Kingdom of Hungary, the city fathers sought, through somewhat grandiose projects, to rival the street architecture of not only Vienna but also of Berlin and Paris.

Andrássy út, Budapest, 1896, courtesy of Wikipedia

Today, living off Andrássy út, a principal boulevard set to equal the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, and lined with Neo-Renaissance mansions and townhouses, we are the beneficiaries of such early town planning and are able to enjoy ornate plasterwork, etched glass, shuttered casement windows, enfilade rooms and, of course, double doors!

Original Victorian stove in the Dining Room

What attracted us to the apartment, some twenty years ago, was not, it has to be said, the disrepair, even wanton destruction of the Socialist years (as the Communist period is now referenced), the evidence of multiple occupancy by five families, but beneath the layers of crudely applied paint, the gas pipes hammered against the walls, the festoons of wires and cables, the broken panelling and patched parquet, something worthy of restoration could be detected for there, concealed in dust and detritus, were the splendours of a bygone age.

Pier glass and fitted furniture in the Main Hall

So, today we relish the detail to be found in solid brass window catches and door furniture, in carefully carved wood, in ceiling roses, in original pier glass, in fixtures and fittings, all now over 150 years old, and of soaring ceiling heights and, of course, double doors!

Architectural details around the apartment

However, this is not to disregard, or disrespect, those for whom this period, this style, remains anathema. Those who cherish the run down farmhouse, those who favour the Spanish hacienda, the convenience of the bungalow residence, the cosiness of the thatched cottage, the reassurance of Tudorbethan or the modernity of the converted loft apartment. Each to his or her own!

We, unlike Mrs. Gereth, are prepared to concede on every point. But we do have double doors!!

We are not for making political statements. At least not here. Suffice it to say that since January 1st., and the end of the so called Brexit 'transition period', life for us here in Hungary has taken on a new meaning.

The National Directorate General for Aliens Policing, Budapest

It began back in 2019 when, at what was described as a 'Town Hall' meeting, but in reality a gathering of hopeful ex patriots in the ballroom of the Marriott Hotel in Budapest, we were informed by the then HM Ambassador that we would be required to exchange our current residency cards at some future point for new, post Brexit ones as we relinquished citizenship of the European Union to be classed instead as Third Country Nationals. It would, we were assured, be a simple, straightforward matter. How things have moved on. Today the British Embassy chooses to communicate through a Facebook page! But that is another story.

'Get Ready for Brexit', 'Town Hall' meeting, Marriott Hotel, Budapest

Nothing could be more misleading. Yesterday, at the National Directorate General for Aliens Policing, we presented ourselves for interview, submission of application, photographs and finger prints, thus complying with the current ruling.

Way In.

The National Directorate General for Aliens Policing is a force not to be reckoned with. Situated in a desolate, outlying suburb of Budapest it is housed in an isolated, heavily protected former villa with an armed guard in attendance. Indeed, the possibility did cross our minds that in former times it might well have been a centre for serious interrogation.

Car Park - we arrived by taxi.

But before ever reaching that point, it became necessary to engage the services of a company to assist us with, and take us through, the application process. The form, some ten pages in length, in Hungarian, once downloaded had, on completion, with attached photograph and an additional paper, signed separately, to be scanned and forwarded to the Directorate before an interview date could be considered. That we also were required to include some authorisation from a Hungarian lawyer is neither here nor there.

Top page of ten pages needed for the registration application.

The interview itself passed almost without a hitch. The photograph attached to the application form, which itself had of course been sent in advance, was deemed unsuitable on the hard copy. Happily we were prepared for all eventualities and, knowing from past experiences that the gas bill of some date in 2011 might have to be produced, we were well equipped with a selection of holiday snaps, so to speak, from which to choose. That we had failed to mention the date of our marriage and the precise place of issue of our most recent passports did not, in the event, prove an impediment.

So, retrieving masks and gloves in line with Covid-19 rules and regulations, we fled the photography and finger print booth and made our escape. As we left, the steel, electric gates silently closed behind us.

Gates firmly closed.

The new documents should arrive, courtesy of Magyar Posta, within 30 days!

A former glass warehouse, originally that of the Venezia-Murano Glass and Mosaic Company, and an outpost of Protestantism may strike one as something of an odd connection. Notwithstanding, those of a curious disposition who have ventured into the Campo San Vio, with its outlook to the Grand Canal in Venice, will have almost certainly been drawn to the imposing doors of St. George's Anglican Church which, consecrated in 1906, has occupied the building to this day.

Lance Hattatt waiting for the service to start

Indeed, the entrance is not without interest, having been designed by Luigi Marangoni in 1920 and which, in part, serves as a memorial to the British soldiers, sailors and airmen who died in Italy in the Great War of 1914 - 1918. A slightly later, 1926, bas-relief by Napoleone Martinuzzi above the doorway depicts St. George slaying the dragon and, together with the statue of St. Michael, alludes to the British military order of valour, the 'Order of St. Michael and St. George'.

Front door of St. George's Church, Venice [Wikipedia image]

It is to St. George's that, when in Venice, we make our way on a Sunday morning, successors to those who in previous times would have been transported to the Campo in a flotilla of gondolas, in time for the Service of the Eucharist where the interior is flooded in light from a series of stained glass window and where the eye is directed towards the altar piece, a C19 copy of 'The Redeemer with Saints George and Jerome' painted by the Venetian Renaissance artist, Giovanni Buonconsiglio.

Sunday in Venice: Going to the English Church [of St George in Campo San Vio]

Drawing by W. Logsdail published in The Graphic, 6 July 1895

The congregation is not large. Made up of a handful of English speaking residents of Venice, it is supplemented by regular visitors, such as ourselves, to which may be added the occasional tourist who finds himself or herself en route for, and in search of, the Peggy Guggenheim collection. But no-one should be disappointed for, regardless of faith or belief, the service is always uplifting and the Chaplain, the Reverend Canon Malcolm Bradshaw, assisted by Philip Gwynne Jones, will always engender much upon which to reflect.

Interior of St. George's Church before removal of the wooden pews.
Image courtesy of Luisella Romeo of www.seevenice.it

And so, in these days of a global pandemic when to travel abroad is both restricted and unwise, we greatly miss our Sunday mornings at St. George's as they once were and will, most assuredly, be so again. Instead we 'Zoom'. Under the technical expertise of Philip, whose rôle as assistant curate now doubles with that of technician, and led by Father Malcolm from the Chaplaincy house, we are able to participate in an online service which, although different, reaches out to an ever growing number of participants.

Monument to Frederic Eden and his wife, Caroline,
who made a 'Garden of Eden' in Venice

Our Budapest drawing room may not contain a C19 classical frieze, is without an organ donated by the Dowager Duchess of Northumberland, cannot boast memorials and tablets to merchants, bankers and benefactors, contains not an echo of Browning or Ruskin, but each Sunday, accessing our computer screen, it serves to bring close to us a very real fellowship of people and a city that we know and love.

'Heracles', oil and acrylic on canvas by Orr Máté

Some time ago, most likely before the end of 2019, although the actual date is of little importance, we found ourselves in the Budapest studio of the painter, Orr Máté [in Hungarian the surname always precedes the first name]. Over the years Máté has become a very close friend and so whilst visits to his studio are not infrequent, it is always exciting when there is new work to be seen on the easel or, as does occasionally happen, an opportunity to turn the pages of his most recent sketchbook.

A preliminary sketch for the painting 'Heracles'

And so it was that we happened upon the preliminary drawings for a painting, 'Heracles', featuring the centaur, Nessus, in conflict with the Nemean lion. Not only were we captivated by the drawings themselves but were, in discussion, intrigued by the mythology of the Ancient Greeks given a new relevance to the present day.

A sketch for 'Heracles' taken from Orr Máté's sketchbook

Of course the fate of Heracles is well known. But in this instance, in portraying the centaur entangled with the lion, Máté chooses a pose for his subject matter that seemingly embodies violence in a most brutal form and yet, on the other hand, one that also suggests its opposite. Here, in the artist's own words, we see, "a wide range of conflicting intense emotions: aggression, passion, the feeling of vulnerability, the feeling of power." The intended ambiguity becomes consistent with the experience of life.

A first drawing of the Nemean lion for the painting 'Heracles'

Interestingly, in looking at the early sketches, Máté gives the centaur a beard, later to be replaced with a more Hellenistic head, reminiscent of the sons of Laocoon depicted in the sculpture 'Gruppo del Laocoonte' and said to represent the original icon of human suffering. However, in the final work the composition is both balanced and harmonious, framed by two columns appropriated from the 'Ara Pacis Augustae' altar in Rome which, in themselves, become an allegory of peace.

Orr Máté at work in his studio on the painting

A fitting subject for the drawing room? Many would suggest not but for us, in acquiring the painting through the Várfok Gallery in Budapest who represent Máté, we have not only what we believe to be an iconic work but one that connects a distant past with the challenging times in which we live. The masterful trompe l'œil effect is undoubtedly chilling, the cold marble creates its own stillness, the subdued palette an austerity but, in contrast, there is an energy, a dynamic, an unstoppable force. The painting lives. Here is life.

'Heracles' in the drawing room, Budapest

Coastal Convalesence

Musings on Museums

Home and Away

A Whiter Shade of Pale

Come into the Garden, Maud

On the Move

Zoom, Click, and Add to Basket

'Love in Budapest'

Us, Ourselves and We

Richard Alexander Hattatt - A Reclusive Benefactor

Making an Entrance

Two of a Kind

Bureaucracy and Brexit in Budapest

Worship From a Distance

'Heracles' in the Drawing Room