An Enchanted Place

an-enchanted-place

The Enchanted Place from my mother’s 1955 edition of The House at Pooh Corner*

Of my earliest literary memories, beyond Where the Wild Things are, or Green Eggs and Ham, the most poignant and the most emotional I can remember is the final chapter of The House at Pooh Corner.

I have always loved E. H. Sheperd’s Winnie the Pooh, and regretted Disney’s.

In the woods not far from home I had my own enchanted place, a narrow glade, about one hundred yards long where Emile (our first dog) and I would go on damp mornings or, on the off chance after work, and gather, literally, kilos of Ceps, or Penny Bun mushrooms. It was always in amazement that  no one had got there first.

Most of what I yearn for now is either edible or drinkable. White truffles of course offer voluble succour to the soul; caviar has its place, but is a financial Rubicon I rarely feel comfortable crossing. Even just (sic) three hundred euros for a bottle of Musigny is something I really can’t. In short all are fantastic but cost the earth.

Ceps are commonplace, unremittingly satisfying and free.

Alas, lthe local Mairie saw fit to sell the logging rights at the end of my glade, and one damp morning all that I found was a muddy quagmire where not even hope of funghi remained.

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Noble foodstuff for the common man

*Interestingly on the fly-leaf is a dedication from a mysterious Richard. My mother would have been seventeen or eighteen. He can only have been an admirer, and one with immaculate taste in books and women.

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About matthewhayesbrognon

Wine Merchant
This entry was posted in VF - Pour encourager les autres. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to An Enchanted Place

  1. grahamhayes2015 says:

    The enigmatic Richard you refer to was one Richard Barnes, a long time admirer of your mother, indeed for the rest of her life and his come to that, since he died only a few months after attending Sheil’s funeral

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