An old tradition, another New Year's Day.

Why do the people of Cwm Gwaun in South Wales celebrate the New Year on 13th January?  

Village of Cwm Gwaun [courtesy of Wikipedia]

In 1752 Britain changed the calendar to come into line with the rest of Europe. 
Eleven days were lost and from that time the New Year began on 1st January.

But in Cwm Gwaun they have maintained their New Year celebration according to the old calendar.

The video below shows how the villagers, especially the children, enjoy this tradition.

                                                       Hen Galan [New Year]   **

        [  ** credit to creator =   https://www.twinkl.co.uk/teaching-wiki/hen-galan# ]

Blwyddyn Newydd Dda! (Happy New Year!)

An armchair escape into a time of danger and intrigue - on Free Offer for this week.

                                                  The Rake and his Honour

FRANCE  Summer 1813.... a time of uncertainty and intrigue. Napoleon clings on to power, but a revolt is brewing. Disciplined Louise Fauriel and easy-going rake Arnaut de Montailhac are an unlikely pair, linked by the need to smuggle letters that can change the course of France’s future. With Napoleon’s vengeful agents never more than one step behind, there’s no time for love in the desperate race to succeed in their mission.

From the lakes and mountains of the French Pyrenees 

to London    

                                     Cavendish Square [credit to creator]

and Hartwell House near Aylesbury, the tense pursuit never stops. 

And the danger continues all the way to a breath-taking climax.

Chalk and cheese....?

Or in a more modern fashion .......

Enemies to lovers.

Joachim, the youngest of the three Montailhac brothers is [usually] a perfect gentleman. Athletic, hard-working and keen to prove himself, Joachim supervises his father's estates and livestock. Given the harsh terrain in the Pyrenees, it's a full-time job.

When two troubled girls  - his mother's guests - arrive for a visit, they add horribly to his workload. Sophie, the younger sister, is totally out of control. Within 24 hours of arriving, she sets the whole household by the ears. 

The older sister, Nell, is so pinched and sullen, Joachim calls her 'Miss Dismal' to himself. Any conversation between them ends in misunderstanding or disagreement. 

For Joachim, being gentlemanly keeps getting ever more difficult. 

Nell is suffering from depression. Hostile to everyone, she can't help her snappy response to Joachim, especially as he is not only gentlemanly but most attractive. NOT what she wants at all.

It's going to take something very unexpected to shake these two out of their dislike into some kind of alliance.  

                                                     A Lady's Honour

                                                     a new Montailhac story

11th December 1282

 11th December marks the anniversary of the death of the last native Prince of Wales.

Llewelyn ap Gruffydd

Tywysog Cymru

View of Llyn Llydaw from Crib Goch

[courtesy of Wikipedia]

https://youtu.be/UHbCYpOtSPY

Video by Sian Ifan2, and the lament sung in the mellow voice of Daffydd Ifan

 Llywelyn Ein Llyw Olaf 

at the ceremony for the Treaty of Montgomery 1267

Memorial stone to Llewelyn ap Gruffydd at Abbey Cwm Hir

[photo by Britain Express]

A free holiday in every way

 If you need a rest, a break from the endless hurry and worry, 

why not take an armchair trip to Brighton?

On FREE OFFER at present 

 The Rake's Challenge

                                                                                                                                                                As well as the sea air, bathing machines, horse racing, and a splendid picnic,                        there is gambling,  

dancing, a concert at the Royal Pavilion with Prinny among the performers....       

                                                

               and attempted murder.........  

Lots of fun and frolics, together with poets, poison and plots. 

5* Review   PERFECT

Traditional regencies this lovely don’t come along very often, and I have to read a ton of mediocre and unfinishables to find just a few that immerse me in the world and grab my attention as these do. It makes it all worth it when a book this well-conceived and written comes along, with engaging plots, endearing characters and smooth dialogue. Pitch perfect, as are this author’s other books. Very romantic, in spite of (and because of) the lack of graphically detailed sex scenes. I will be re-reading these, along with Georgette Heyer and a very small selection of other keepers. A breath of fresh air.

 

Marco's misfortunes

 KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

That day Marco took great pains with his costume. Nobody must guess at his secret cares. He had a reputation as a cheerful soul who could enliven the dullest party. Eventually he was satisfied with his appearance in a tawny velvet doublet and breeches and impeccable linen. Smoothing back his thick black locks, he perched his plumed cap at a jaunty angle on his head and prepared to set off for his place of business. 

    Roberto, his steward and sometimes critic, surveyed him with a knowing air. 'You won't look bright for long if you don't eat something.' he ventured. 

            'How can I eat?'

            'Starving won't bring her back any faster. You've got a lot to do today.' 

            'Yes, yes, Roberto, I know. If any messengers come to the house keep them safe until I return. I can't be interrupted in today's meetings.' 

            An hour later he was making his first visit of the day to the palatial home of a noble family with samples of silk and taffeta from his well-stocked warehouse. Marco's fabrics were exquisite and he was sure of a welcome whenever he brought new materials, however costly they were. 

            'I went personally as far as Belgrade to select these stuffs,' he told the mother and all her rather plain daughters as his servants unrolled the glorious pink and gold brocade and shimmering feather-soft Persian silks to a gratifying chorus of 'oohs' and 'ahs'. 

MilunaCoVintage   Antique Venetian Silk Velvet]

            After several such visits to the homes of rich and titled people in town, Marco set off on horseback for the summer residence of Archduke Ferdinand. It was an old castle with a large and pleasant park, set on a gentle, wooded hillside with a view towards the teeming city. The two assistants followed in a wagon with the rolls of precious cloth. One of them had brought his lute and they played and sang as they followed the winding road.  

            The Archduke was very liberal towards his young wife and she took great pleasure in fine dresses. Marco, with his handsome face, cheerful personality and his fine business sense, had established a very profitable commerce at the Court.  

            After the Archduchess had chosen her materials it was sure that all the ladies at Court would want similar goods and Marco could always find enough silk, velvet and taffeta for them all. He knew just how to take advantage of the constantly growing supplies of finished silk goods flowing west through Turkey and back east from the city states of Northern Italy.  

            Today he had a huge variety of beautiful items to tempt the ladies. As usual the two servants set out an eye-catching display of glowing velvets and brocades from Turkey, worked silk from Venice and Florence and linen cloth from Egypt. In addition they had brought Oriental carpets and exotic perfume essences. 

[Attar of roses]

            When all was ready Marco ushered the ladies into the room. Archduchess Anna paused on the threshold and surveyed the wonderful array of colours and textures, her face brightening. 'Oh, Signor Marco,' she exclaimed, ' - this is just what I need to lift my spirits. The only trouble now is where to start.' She moved towards the velvets and Marco hastened to assist her. 

            'Allow me to say that you do not look as though your spirits are suffering, Your Grace,' he said as cheerfully as he could. 'As always, you appear serene and gracious.' 

            She gave him a grimace. 'You know me well enough not to pay me flowery compliments. How can I be happy when my husband is fretting over his policies and always away dealing with military matters?'  

Marco frowned at her. 'Pray do not be indiscreet, Your Grace.' 

She pouted prettily and stroked a rich wine-red velvet. 'Oh, I'm not telling you anything that anyone here doesn't know. It's this business about negotiating with that horrid man, the Voivode of Transylvania. He always terrified me when I was a little girl. And when you think of the gruesome stories they tell about what he did to the peasants - ' 

            'Madam, please !' clucked an elderly lady-in-waiting. 

            'Yes, yes, my good aunt Katerina,' sighed the young woman, with an expressive look at Marco. She pounced on a length of cream satin but Marco shook his head. 'Too pale for you,' he murmured and indicated a ravishing blue silk. The servant proffered a mirror and for a little while the Archduchess and her ladies concentrated on colours and fabrics. 

            ‘You will join us for supper ?’  the Archduchess said to Marco at the end of an enjoyable afternoon of selecting materials and perfumes for herself and then helping her ladies-in-waiting to choose also. They were tired but triumphant, dreaming of the fine appearance they would make at the autumn balls.  

            In hopes of gleaning some more information, Marco bowed low and followed the ladies into the great hall of the castle. He was not disappointed. From the young Archduchess's gentle grumblings he learned that Archduke Ferdinand was assembling and exercising large numbers of troops and stockpiling supplies for a campaign. 

            ‘I don't know how long all this is going to take,’ she prattled on, talking indiscriminately to Marco and to her aunt Katerina, ‘but I think it’s time we saw the Countess Louisa von Walberg returning.’ She turned impulsively to Marco. ‘You must be longing for them to come back.’  

            To his annoyance he could feel a blush creep over his cheeks and she laughed delightedly. ‘Aha, Signor Marco, - how glad I am you really love my sweet Isabella. And you one of the greatest rakes in Vienna. But you make a delightful couple.’

From  THE RUBY RINGS

[ a tale of silks and spying, and Marco's misfortunes ]

(C) Beth Elliott 

Follow the river [still no internet]

Holidays without internet - but who cares in such a setting  

The Akkopru Ottoman bridge 
Photo by https://branding.goturkiye.com/adana

Still on holiday at Pozanti we explore the valley northwards to see the restored Roman / Ottoman bridge at Akköprü. Right by this bridge is the excellent Sekerpinar Restoran. At a table under the trees, with the River Chakit running swiftly by, it's an ideal spot for a leisurely meal [although no siesta here]. 

Belemedik holiday Park
Photo by Samba Turizm

On another day we explore southwards from Pozanti to Belemedik, a well hidden holiday village. To get there we follow the only way into the valley, on a narrow road by the fast flowing Chakit River. There is a single track railway line close to the road. 

You can enjoy lazing in the park, exploring the wild countryside in the valley by the river, or a walk along the single track line to the picturesque old railway station. 

A little further south is the Varda viaduct, built by German engineers at the beginning of the 20th century. That's where they shot the train fight scene from the James Bond film: Skyfall.

Varda Viaduct
Photo  courtesy of Wikipedia

The Taurus Mountains are a formidable barrier across the south-eastern part of Turkey.  With peaks rising to over three thousand metres, the main pass through them since ancient times has been the Cilician Gates. This was a mule track not even wide enough for wheeled vehicles. To cross between north and south, it was the only route; taken by Hittites, Greeks, Alexander the Great, Saint Paul of Tarsus, Hadrian, Byzantines, Crusaders, Mongols, and Ottomans under Selim the Grim.

To improve communications, German engineers dug, blasted tunnels and built viaducts to create a railway line at the beginning of the 20th century. 

In order to improve transport for the modern era a huge programme of road building was carried out. Now a motorway runs along this route, the E90 Tarsus-Adana Highway. The area of the Cilician Gates is called the Gullek Pass. An engineering feat as impressive as the mighty peaks all round. 

In summer

and in winter
photos by Eski Said

And the old road through the Pass

Ramsay, W. M. “Cilicia, Tarsus, and the Great Taurus Pass.” 1903, pp. 395.

 The River Chakit at Belemedik Nature Village [before it is harnessed into a hydro-electric plant further downstream]

Internet [and lack of] and holidays in the mountains

 

The Awe-inspiring Taurus Mountains [Toros Dağları] of Turkey 

Photo by Zeynel Cebeci

Three weeks without internet starts off as a challenge in this day and age.
Then you relax and simply enjoy the holiday. Especially when staying in a rather remote corner of the Taurus Mountains, where there is so much to explore.

One day we travelled for an hour along a mountain road, through villages clinging precariously to the hillsides, to reach a Trout Restaurant. The trout are in tanks fed by a spring. Downhill, on a level patch of land is the open air restaurant, well shaded by plane trees and bounded by a river.

The meal of freshly grilled trout, chips and various salads, 

tastes delicious in the fresh air.

We sit on long benches, with cushions - [or else there are hammocks] -as the diners take a siesta after the meal. The sound of the river burbling past is a lullaby, and there are butterflies dancing in the branches that wave gently overhead. 

Kirkpinar Trout Restaurant, Alihoca Koy, Pozanti.

After the siesta, the restaurant owner brings tea and a plate of fruit from his garden.

Who cares about internet, anyway.

Of silk, nightingales and sorrows

 and of the passage of time which allows some healing.

Let's start with a pleasant and timeless item - the nightingales singing their melodies

in the woodlands along the River Gardon at Mialet

    

Mialet is a small town on a hillside in the Cevennes, a rural area, which was once home to a large community of French Protestants, or Huguenots. Their strict code of conduct meant they were hardworking, and usually skilled craftsmen. In this region of France, they were involved in the Silk industry, breeding silkworms, spinning the threads and weaving it into beautiful cloth, with a lustrous sheen, as well as exquisite designs. 

Spools of dyed silks at the Silk Museum in Saint-Hippolyte du Fort, Gard.

Silk was incredibly expensive. To avoid paying precious money to buy it from abroad, King Henry IV ordered the development of this industry. He also allowed religious tolerance [Edict of Nantes, 1598], as the region was mainly Protestant. However, in 1685, his grandson, Louis XIV, determined to impose one religion on France and make everyone follow the Church of Rome. He revoked the Edict of Nantes, and set up a cruel persecution of conversion or death. Huguenots were forbidden to leave the country, but as we know, they did in huge numbers, impoverishing France for generations. They brought their various skills to the benefit of the countries where they took refuge. 

During the years of intolerance, the Huguenots would meet in secret places, caverns or remote spots in the hills, to listen to a service. It was often a game of cat and mouse. Whole troops of dragoons constantly hunted them down. From 1685 until Louis's death in 1715, the atrocities were terrible, with forced conversions, entire villages massacred or burnt to the ground, men sent to the galleys, women to prison and any Protestant pastors tortured and killed. Thankfully, more enlightened leaders restored some degree of religious tolerance after this nightmare period. 

Today the sufferings and the indomitable resistance are commemorated every year in an open air ceremony on the first Sunday in September at the Mas Soubeyran, now the Museum of the Desert close to Mialet. The descendants of Huguenots who were forced to flee the persecution, come back from all over the world to celebrate their faith and love of their country of origin.  

 

The Musée du Désert [courtesy of Wikipedia Commons]

For more information on the Assembly of the Desert, see this link.

https://www.huguenotsociety.org.uk/blog/lassemblee-du-desert-1911-2021

And to end on a lighter note, here are some photos of the quiet, rural area 

 and one of a few of the luscious silks woven in the factories of the region.

The old mill on the river at Mialet

 

The Bridge of the Camisards [Protestant rebels in the repression] 

photo by  Daniel VILLAFRUELA

Examples of silk clothing in the Museum. 

[photo by Maison Rouge, musée des vallées Cévenoles]

The Huguenot Cross. In times of persecution, the dove was replaced by a pearl, to signify tears. [Image -copyright - Huguenot Society of South Africa ]

The middle son

 Do you feel sympathetic towards a vulnerable Regency hero ?

Costume Parisien , courtesy of Wikipedia

Since time began the middle son has found his position difficult. The oldest has importance and responsibility, the youngest gets an easier deal. How is Number 2 going to make an impression?

The three Montailhac brothers are all very different, but loyal and loving to each other, even if there is some rivalry. Arnaut, the second son, feels a failure when he compares himself to his older brother, Henri, a skilled diplomat. In addition, his younger brother, Joachim, always very close to the land, manages the estate, both land and stock.

Thus both Arnaut's brothers have responsible roles and enjoy their work. Arnaut is desperately seeking a way to do something worthy with his life. It doesn't help that he's the handsome one, and the ladies all find him irresistible. He doesn't want to be considered a worthless rake. 

His mother is also concerned. She tells him, "stop chasing girls just to amuse yourself, "

    "But, mother, I don’t chase them," he protested, "really, I don’t."

    "It is time for you to settle down,’ his mother announced, waving her fan earnestly. "you will discover how wonderful it is to be happily married."

     He couldn't help laughing at her hopeful expression. Then he heaved a deep sigh. "Mother, I have nothing to offer a wife. Compared to Henri, I haven’t achieved anything worthwhile so far."

So how can Arnaut deal with his vulnerability? 

What role is there for him to show his positive qualities? Entrusted [at last] with a quest, he needs courage, endurance, diplomatic skills, and at the same time he has to fight off an excited gaggle of London ladies, all enchanted by his stunning good looks, his charming smile and his seductive French accent.

He perseveres, getting help from the only young woman who doesn't respond to his charms. But when Louise senses his despair at failing in his quest, she comes to the rescue. 

Hartwell House, Aylesbury.

Arnaut leaned his head back against the squabs and closed his eyes. He looked exhausted and Louise felt a stab of anguish that their mission had all been in vain. There was silence while she sought for words to comfort him. All at once he drew in a deep breath and sat up.

‘What a long day,’ he said, ‘but a successful one, thanks entirely to you and your estimable grandfather.’

‘Successful?’ She sat up, her weariness forgotten. ‘You gained his agreement?’

He beamed at her, his eyes shining. ‘Signed and sealed. Together with a bucketful of advice for a hot-headed young man, but I’m used to that sort of thing.’ He rolled his eyes comically. She laughed with relief at his improved mood.  He added in a more serious tone, ‘In addition, I learned an important lesson today. Now I’ll pity my brother Henri rather than envy him. Ouf!’ he threw up a hand to accompany the exclamation. ‘Diplomacy is nothing but waiting all day long for a few minutes’ conversation with the people in power.’ He made a comical face. ‘And also keeping calm and polite while waiting.' 

So now Arnaut begins to gain some self respect and confidence in his ability. He still has a long way to go, villains to outwit and a girl to woo. [and those London ladies haven't given up the chase, either.]

The Rake and His Honour