Last weekend, my mom and I were the featured speakers at a ladies' tea event at a local church. My mom has plenty of experience with this kind of thing, but I can't recall doing any public speaking before, outside of school. However, it was fun to work together and I felt good about how the presentation went (much easier to speak in public than to sing a solo -- another recent first!!). Since the event was an (indoor) garden tea party, I spoke about tea etiquette, history, and facts, and my mom gave a devotional.

One of my duties included guiding the ladies through the steps of afternoon tea, so I had to do a little research myself! I have to admit, I haven't paid too much attention to tea etiquette in years past, partly because I often come across conflicting advice, and partly because it just doesn't seem that important to me, as a middle-class American in the 21st century, whether I hold my cup "properly" or not. ;-)


[Do not loop your fingers through the teacup handle! How gauche.]
I decided to bake some scones and take some photos with which to better illustrate my instructions on how to eat them. The top photo in this post is the "posh" way of crumbling a scone into bite-size pieces, then adding a dab of cream and jam to each bite. Below are illustrations of the Devon vs. Cornish tea -- i.e. whether the jam or the cream goes on top first. It's delicious either way!



Look at all that tasty cream and jam. And since we got to eat the scones after I made them, it was a win-win situation! My mom and I were both inspired to host a tea party in the near future. Any excuse to consume tea treats is fine by me.

I'm greatly enjoying all my Christmas music and I've been pulling up a few favorites on YouTube, too. I can't embed this one, but I can send you over to YouTube to see the King's College choir perform John Tavener's setting of William Blake's poem, "The Lamb." I rather enjoy the slightly bizarre quality of the music; it matches up with my mental image of William Blake.

Through my recent birthday and the discovery of two very well-priced used bookstores, I've added quite a few books to my shelves lately. Here are a few highlights:

A Pictorial History of English Architecture by John Betjeman ($1, used bookstore) -- I admit, the name "John Betjeman" caught my eye first, but when I read the title I knew it would be a great addition to my library. The photographs are either black-and-white or the dingy colors of the early '70s, so the pictures alone don't make the book worth seeking out. However, John Betjeman is an enthusiastic and knowledgeable guide, and the basic information remains the same, 40 years later.

The English House by Sally Griffiths and Simon McBride (birthday present) -- I have loved browsing through this book. It features 11 different homes from various counties of England, ranging from the likes of the Tudor Country House to the Victorian Terrace House. The text introduces you to the history of each home and its present owner(s). It interests me to read how the owners have chosen to renovate and decorate their historic homes. Some of the rooms and furnishings were familiar to me from photographs and stories in my beloved Victoria magazines, so I have enjoyed getting more views and backstories beyond what the magazines provided. This book is filled with beautiful inspiration for those who love English Country style.

Romantic Style by Denny Hemming and Victoria's Secret ($2, used bookstore) -- Yes, this book was published by Victoria's Secret back in the day when it was a classy establishment! There's not a single scantily-clad female in the entire book, imagine that! Although a few touches here and there are a little dated (it was published in 1990), for the most part, the decor featured in this book has aged well after twenty-one years. Much of it is in the "English Country" vein, hence my interest. I've enjoyed flipping through the pictures (the text is less interesting) for decorating inspiration.

Do-It-Yourself Tailored Slipcovers by Sophia Sevo (birthday present) -- I was excited to receive this book because it covers a variety of chair styles and how to slipcover them. I have been talking about slipcovering our couch for a while now, but recently the idea to start a little smaller has appealed to me. :) Now I'm on the lookout for the perfect used wing chair and the perfect upholstery fabric, then away I'll go!

Simple Upholstery and Slipcovers by Carol Parks ($2, used bookstore) -- I was pleased to find this as a supplement to the above book. It goes into making slipcovers for couches and ottomans as well as the actual ins and outs of re-upholstering furniture, with step by step photographs. After looking through this book, I feel I have a pretty good idea of how an upholsterer works!! I think I might have the confidence to try re-upholstering... someday. :)

My Anglophilia kicked into high gear today, for obvious reasons,* and I felt I must make some scones to have with my tea. After my walk with Edmund, we stopped by the store and picked up some strawberry preserves, lemon curd, and heavy cream, then I whipped up these plain scones in no time.

• 2 c. flour
  
• 2 tsp. baking powder
  
• 1 pinch salt
  
• 1/8 c. sugar
  
• 1/4 c. butter
  
• 1/2 c. milk, + 2 tbsp.

Pre-heat oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Mix dry ingredients, then cut in butter. Add milk and mix to form dough. [EDITED TO ADD: you may find you will need more milk than just 1/2 cup -- the dough should be sticky enough to adhere together in a ball, but not so sticky that it sticks to the bowl.] Divide in half and shape each into a flat round (about 1/2 - 3/4 inch thick). Cut each round into six triangles. Place on baking sheet lined with parchment paper and brush the top of each scone with extra milk. Bake for 10 minutes, or until tops are golden.

I am not sure where I got this recipe; I think I found one online and then modified it. It is my favorite plain scone recipe, though. On their own, the scones aren't much, but they make a perfect stage for delicious jams and spreads.

*I don't normally follow the doings of the royal family, but when I remembered that today was Prince William's wedding, I looked up the highlights on YouTube, and Edmund and I enjoyed watching a few selections. His favorite part was when the planes buzzed Buckingham Palace to congratulate the newlyweds. :) I loved the ceremony as it reminded me of my own wedding (same format, though the Royal wedding used a slightly modernized version). The Brits sure know how to pull off a gorgeous wedding with pomp and elegance!

[I could not stop laughing at this bit... I love Dickens for sentences like this one!]

"His surname was Cruncher, and on the youthful occasion of his renouncing by proxy the works of darkness, in the easterly parish church of Hounsditch, he had received the added appellation of Jerry."

--A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, first published 1859

[Three friends take a camping/boating trip up the River Thames...]

"Harris proposed that we should have scrambled eggs for breakfast. He said he would cook them. It seemed, from his account, that he was very good at doing scrambled eggs. He often did them at picnics and when out on yachts. He was quite famous for them. People who had once tasted his scrambled eggs, so we gathered from his conversation, never cared for any other food afterwards, but pined away and died when they could not get them.

It made our mouths water to hear him talk about the things, and we handed him out the stove and the frying-pan and all the eggs that had not smashed and gone over everything in the hamper, and begged him to begin.

He had some trouble in breaking the eggs -- or rather not so much trouble in breaking them exactly as in getting them into the frying-pan when broken, and keeping them off his trousers, and preventing them from running up his sleeve; but he fixed some half-a-dozen into the pan at last, and then squatted down by the side of the stove and chivied them about with a fork.

It seemed harassing work, so far as George and I could judge. Whenever he went near the pan he burned himself, and then he would drop everything and dance round the stove, flicking his fingers about and cursing the things. Indeed, every time George and I looked round at him he was sure to be performing this feat. We thought at first that it was a necessary part of the culinary arrangements.

We did not know what scrambled eggs were, and we fancied that it must be some Red Indian or Sandwich Islands sort of dish that required dances and incantations for its proper cooking. Montmorency went and put his nose over it once, and the fat spluttered up and scalded him, and then he began dancing and cursing. Altogether it was one of the most interesting and exciting operations I have ever witnessed. George and I were both quite sorry when it was over.

The result was not altogether the success that Harris had anticipated. There seemed so little to show for the business. Six eggs had gone into the frying-pan, and all that came out was a teaspoonful of burnt and unappetizing looking mess.

Harris said it was the fault of the frying-pan, and thought it would have gone better if we had had a fish-kettle and a gas-stove; and we decided not to attempt the dish again until we had those aids to housekeeping by us."

--from Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome, first published 1889

If you live in the States and are within range of a public radio station, chances are you can tune in to a live broadcast of A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge, on Christmas Eve morning. You can check your local NPR station's website to find out when to tune in.

If you can't listen in, you can still enjoy last year's service on YouTube. I love watching and listening because you can enjoy the beauty of the chapel and the cuteness of the choirboys (my husband makes fun of me for melting into a puddle of maternal goopiness whenever they're onscreen, haha). I've started with the first selection, "Once in Royal David's City," below, and the rest of the clips are labeled sequentially so you can watch them in order (or skip around to your favorites like I do).


Have a very merry Christmas, and may the light of Christ shine in your heart!

We woke up to a gentle snowfall this morning...

"The Advent wind begins to stir
With sea-like sounds in our Scotch fir,
It's dark at breakfast, dark at tea,
And in between we only see
Clouds hurrying across the sky
And rain-wet roads the wind blows dry
And branches bending to the gale
Against great skies all silver-pale.
The world seems travelling into space,
And travelling at a faster pace
Than in the leisured summer weather
When we and it sit out together,
For now we feel the world spin round
On some momentous journey bound --
Journey to what? to whom? to where?
The Advent bells call out 'Prepare,
Your world is journeying to the birth
Of God made Man for us on earth.'"

--excerpt from "Advent 1955" by Sir John Betjeman

[From chapter six, "Various Conquests," on post-war flying...]

"The most remarkable flight of all, but one that strangely enough was almost uncelebrated in the Press, was that of M'Intosh and Parer from England to Melbourne. These were two Australian lieutenants who determined, when the war ended, to go home by air in a condemned D.H.9, bought for a few pounds. Almost every part of the machine was defective, including the petrol-pump and magneto, bolts kept working loose from the engine and propeller, the struts were unsound, the instruments faulty. They started on the 8th January 1920, had vexatious delays in France, climbed up to 14,000 feet to avoid a storm over the Apennines and then as they were about to cross the Adriatic went on fire at 3,000 feet, but extinguished the flames with a steep dive. They reached Cairo, by way of Athens and Crete, after forty-four days; the usual flying time for this distance was forty hours. Everyone there thought the two men crazy to persist in their journey, but they patched up the machine and few on east. They had to come down in the central Arabian desert because of engine trouble, M'Intosh keeping Arab marauders off with Mills bombs and a revolver, while Parer tinkered with the plane. He got her off just in time. They reached Baghdad -- the first time that the flight from Egypt had been made -- changed a broken propeller, and flew on over Baluchistan to India. Parer remarked, 'We'll fly this b----- crate till it falls to bits at our feet.' He did so, and more. When the engine failed over the Irrawaddy jungle they made a lucky forced landing; but soon afterwards a crash at Moulmein wrecked the undercarriage, smashed the radiator, and damaged the compass. For six weeks they worked in the jungle at fitting together the bits and pieces and then took off again. They crashed twice more, but somehow managed to cross the most dangerous obstacle of all, the Timor Sea, where they lost their bearings and flew blind, reaching Australia with only a single pint of petrol left in the tank. Their last crash was at Culcairn, close to their goal: there was practically nothing left unbroken of the D.H.9, but the two airmen escaped unharmed. The fragments of the machine were reassembled for exhibition in the Sydney Museum; Parer and M'Intosh were decorated by the Australian Prime Minister and given a purse of £1,000 to defray their expenses. They had already paid part of these by trick-flying and scattering hand-bills over the cities passed in their flight. M'Intosh died soon afterwards in a plane accident; Parer later operated a self-supporting unsubsidized air-line in New Guinea between the coast and the goldfields in the interior."

--from The Long Weekend: A Social History of Great Britain 1918-1939 by Robert Graves and Alan Hodge, first published 1940