In Virginia's and Leonard's Garden

I was looking for an excuse to share one of the highlights of our trip - a visit to Monk's House, the home of Virginia and Leonard Woolf. The anniversary of Virginia's birth on 25 January seems to me to be the perfect opportunity.

I came to a love of the writing of Virginia Woolf slowly. When I read To the Lighthouse at university, I wasn't sure if I loved it or even if I liked it. In fact, I remember telling my tutor that I 'hated' it - but that may have been an exaggeration to generate some discussion. Our tutes were always slow to get off the ground.

Then, about 22 years ago, I discovered Virginia's diaries in Belconnen Library. Hardback first editions, never borrowed by anyone. (To my knowledge, only I and one other person every borrowed them. They aren't available any more.) I was hooked. Since then, I have read the diaries, the biographies, some of the letters and essays and novels. In fact, To the Lighthouse has become one of the books I am likely to read every year or two. Single volumes of the diaries have been packed in my hospital bags and, to celebrate the end of my chemotherapy, I bought myself a first edition set of the diaries. Hardback. Beautiful. There is still a huge volume of work I haven't read but I will, there's time.

Visiting Monk's House in Rodmell in East Sussex has been something I've long wanted to do. On this most recent trip, Jim and Miles humoured me and we spent about three hours wandering in the garden and looking at the little house. It is a little house. When Virginia first saw it, she commented on how tiny it was. There was no toilet,  no bathroom. There were many reasons why she and Leonard shouldn't buy it, not least of which was that they had already bought another house in nearby Lewes.

But all her objections were nothing when she looked at the garden. The garden is still the most glorious part of the property. It falls into four sections - the walled area behind the house, the orchard that leads to Virginia's writing lodge, a large lawn that looks across to the chalk cliffs of the downs, and the kitchen garden. Today, the garden is looked after by a team of volunteers - they do a magnificent job.

The path through the formal walled garden to the house.

Looking through the orchard to the writing lodge.

A wintry vege patch and the neighbouring church.

The east lawn - you can see chalk cliffs in the distance.

The National Trust manages the property and now you can even rent rooms for a few days (and don't think that hasn't gone on my 'to do' list). They have thoughtfully left tennis racquets and lawn bowls in old tin boxes for visitors to use. Miles and I played tennis and bowls on east lawn, just like Virginia and Leonard once did. There's a small shop in what was once Leonard's garage and, before that, was the village forge. And apples from the orchard are still harvested and are contributed to the village's apple festival.

Visiting Monk's House offered a glimpse into another world - a writer's world but also a world that has long past. It's a miracle, really, that the gardens were preserved and that the land wasn't divided up and parcelled off. It's a miracle that we could explore the garden, walk through the rooms and enjoy the magic of the landscape. Just like it's a miracle that we still have some many of Virginia's wonderful words. In this little corner of England, time has stood still.

PS I have updated my blog list with some of the interesting blogs and sites I've discovered while we've been away. If you would like to read Virginia Woolf's thoughts on diaries, follow the link to Brain Pickings to read a terrific post.

Brussels is not Paris

I know.  I'm stating the bleedin' obvious. But when we arrived in Brussels over a week ago, Miles and I rivalled each other for the prize of 'most ignorant about Brussels'. At least I was clear that Brussels was not in France!

Europa and the Euro, European Parliament, Brussels

Brussels, it seems to me, suffers from Canberra's fate. As home of the European Parliament, it has been constantly in the news while we have been travelling. Just as 'Canberra' is media-shorthand for the Federal Parliament, the word 'Brussels' is journalese for 'European Union' and much has been made in the press of the perceived failures of the EU and the Euro. There has also been ongoing debate about whether the United Kingdom will withdraw from the EU altogether. And with the EU dominating the headlines, and Gerard Depardieu threatening to leave France for Belgium, there seems little chance for Brussels to sell it's more interesting side to the world.

But let's be clear - Brussels is not Paris. And here are my reasons why.

Brussels has footpaths you can actually walk on. In Paris, once you leave the main boulevards and avenues, the sidewalks shrink to scrawny, narrow paths that barely accommodate two people, let alone two people, a couple of umbrellas, a rubbish bin and some bollards. In Brussels, the footpaths are broad, although beware the pavements and cobblestones. And in Brussels, cars stop for pedestrians. In Paris, cars didn't stop for pedestrians unless they were forced too.

Brussels has no boulangeries. Okay, I'm exaggerating. There were three at Merode but that was at least a 20 minute walk from our apartment and their quality wasn't great. We were used to nipping out to the bakery across the road or down the street and being back in a jiffy. In our area of Brussels, there were chemists, hairdressers and florists aplenty but boulangeries? No. Can't complain, though. Even the chocolate you buy in the supermarket is Belgian and delicious.

Brussels is multi-lingual. In Paris, everything is in French with very few concessions made to the city's vast population of tourists. Brussels is officially bi-lingual with all signage appearing in Dutch and French and often in English as well.

Tintin welcomes the tourist, Brussels-Midi train station

Paris has the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, the Pompidou. Brussels has ... comic art. This was really why we came to Brussels, so we could immerse ourselves in the world of Tintin but we discovered Brussels has a great tradition of comic artists that it reveres. Comic artists are celebrated in the museums (visits to Musee Herge, the Museum of Original Figurines and the Belgian Comic Strip Centre are a must) and on the streets.

A giant Smurf near the Museum of Original Figurines, Brussels

Finally, Paris has the Eiffel Tower but Brussels has Mini-Europe. See, if you visit Brussels, you don't actually need to go anywhere else!

The Champs Elysee at Mini-Europe