Country Art

Jane is a deceitful liar.

My apologies to all those called Jane – I do not mean the first comment as a generic condemnation of all those called Jane, but my faith in technology has taken a serious knock.

As Dianne and I set off (eventually) to get to the ‘New Beginnings’ exhibition of art being held in Mill House, Whitebrook, Monmouth we (eventually) got the TomTom to accept a route and felt we were in the safe hands of the TomTom voice of ‘Jane.’ [Not the best metaphor I’ve ever used!]

We were sadly abused and became aware of this fact when the narrow, grass rutted, single car width lane petered out into verdant nothingness! The Voice then had the impertinence to tell us (after much reversing in small spaces) that we were at our destination when we patently and obviously were not.

The post code was re-entered and the machine promptly told us we were three miles away from our objective. This seemed strangely encouraging because the place we were in, half way up a hill side, seemed the wrong place for a water powered ex-paper mill.

Our arrival at the right location provided many opportunities for untrammelled envy. The house itself is superb and a wonderful background for the paintings – which are in every room (including the loo!) The rooms themselves are generally, and in detail, well presented and desirable living spaces. The kitchen is the sort of place that only exists in fashion magazines and . . . I really should be speaking abut the art.

Ceri’s paintings, quite rightly, have a good position and are shown to advantage. The range of paintings on show is wide, but with an emphasis on representational art. The variety is wide and the quality of the exhibits is not always consistent, but there is enough here to satisfy most artistic appetites. The prices range from a couple of hundred pounds to six thousand and above. A fair range and it was good to see some of David Carpanini’s etchings on the walls – good to see one of the artists some of whose work I own, making every effort to increase his popularity!

By the time we had drunk our tea and coffee and I had consumed two pieces of cake we were ready for lunch. Following suggestions we eschewed eating in Monmouth and followed half remembered directions to The Stone Mill Restaurant and in no time at all we found ourselves in England. This was wrong. Very wrong.

Our importunate return to Monmouth and a revived faith in the geographical omniscience of Jane speaking through the beating of the tom toms led to our driving steadily towards England again! We took dramatic decisions and ignored the Voice and followed the signs for the village in which the restaurant was located. Allegedly.

It was only when we were both (well, I was) on the brink of turning around and going back that we saw the restaurant. Its location is absurdly picturesque surrounded by picture book houses with impossibly pretty gardens.

The food was excellent and reasonably priced. Certainly good enough to irritate both Ceri and Toni when we regaled them with stories of culinary delights!

No good news about the house but a ‘Good luck’ card from the putative buyers. It seems that the completion date of the first of June is now not a realistic date.

We wait and wonder.