Harriet Devine's Blog

I'm off

on my travels again. May try to say hello to you all from time to time -- back in 3 weeks.

Amsterdam

I've just been on a flying visit to Amsterdam, where I have not been for a very long time. Luckily the weather was glorious -- pretty much like summer, really -- and the place was looking incredibly pretty. Went yesterday afternoon to the Rijksmuseum as I was desperate to see some Rembrandt, which I did, though not as many paintings as I'd hoped for. I liked this self-portrait, which seems to have been the first he painted, when he was about 22. The other self portrait they have, in which he is said to be in his fifties, is a wonderful painting but he does look sad and old.
There are also some great Vermeers and I loved this one, perhaps not one of his most famous -- glorious soft blues and greys, incredibly soothing.

Bodnant

  To Wales yesterday where my daughter and family were staying with her mother-in-law who lives near Colwyn Bay. The weather wasn't great but we spent the morning at what must be one of the most beautiful gardens in Britain, Bodnant. I've been there in the spring (when the amazing Laburnam Arch is in flower and visitors come from all over the world to see it) and in the autumn, but never before at this time of year. The garden is huge, and sweeps down through a fabulously planted valley to a most lovely little river which plunges over a waterfall and dashes over rocks complete with stepping stones, ferns and moss. Gorgeous. The borders were full of late summer colour, reds and oranges and yellows, and many roses were still in flower. My two grandsons George (11) and Cai (5, and what a poser) were in heaven -- in this picture they are standing at the base of a huge sequoia, of which there are a number, all planted in the 1880s. We had lunch in the lovely town of Conwy, which has a massive medieval castle, a very pretty harbour, and lots of delightful shops. Amazingly the sun came out and we were able to sit on a wall by the sea eating our ice-creams.

India

Things will be quiet on here for a couple of weeks as I will be somewhere resembling this picture -- back mid-August.

Flowers in Cheshire

If you ever have  a bit of leisure time and find yourself in Cheshire, go to beautiful Arley  Hall, not far from  Knutsford.  It has the most glorious gardens, with tremendous  herbacious borders and a wonderfully  large walled garden.  Delicious lunches in the 17th-century barn, too.

French Banks

Not Credit Agricole, Banque Nationale de Paris etc, but grassy ones by the side of the road. They are simply smothered in flowers at this time of year. I've only just got home and my brain seems to have been turned to mush -- in a very nice way -- by so much sunshine and relaxation.  So here are some primroses while I gear myself up for some more intellectual remarks a bientot.

France

In case anyone wonders where I am -- I'm in France for Easter. I have a house here, on the border of Normandy and Brittany. It is very lovely here at the moment -- everything very fresh and green and springlike. All the grass verges are covered in primroses, violets, celandine -- all the trees budding like mad -- the sun shining briliantly. There are eight of us here, including children and grandchildren. I'm re-reading Persuasion and, for the first time, Peter Carey's Oscar and Lucinda which I'm loving so far. No broadband here hence silence and lack of pictures!

Meeting film stars

Like most of us these days, I've got a number of books on the go -- more on these later. My latest acquisition is Felicity Kendal's childhood memoir, White Cargo, bought used from Amazon. As someone who has also written a memoir of my own theatre childhood, Being George Devine's Daughter , this was naturally going to interest me. But theatre aside, Felicity Kendal's life was very different from mine -- as most people know, she grew up in India, where her father had a touring company. The Indian connection was my reason for finally launching into the book. I was in India last month, seeing a festival of new plays by young Indian writers, which was held at the Prithvi Theatre in northern Mumbai. This lovely little theatre was founded in memory of the late great Indian actor Prithvi Kapoor, whose youngest son Shashi was married to Felicity Kendal's older sister Jennifer, who sadly died some years ago. Shashi Kapoor became a distinguished and famous actor in his own right, of course -- many people will remember him as the handsome rajah in the 1980s film Heat and Dust. He was indeed a great beauty and I had a terrific crush on him for years. Imagine my feelings, then, when he was pointed out to me on the festival opening night just yards away from where I was standing. Alas, he does not look like this picture any more -- he is nearly 70 now, amazingly enough.  A few days later I was actually introduced to him and any disappointment over lost youth and beauty simply faded away. He was adorable -- courteous, charming, with the same slightly crooked smile and the same lovely twinkling eyes.  I felt like a teenager, quite weak at the knees.  So Felicity Kendal's book was a must.  I've only just started reading it but it promises well, what with theatre and India and Shashi all rolled into one.