Beatrix Potter. Queen of The Lake District.

Beatrix Potter…my favourite author…


Beatrix Potter, the writer of one of the most beloved children’s book of all time, The Tale of Peter Rabbit (1902), was a woman of immense talent, indefatigable spirit, and generous heart.

beat 2

Helen Beatrix, the eldest of the two children of Rupert and Helen (Leech) Potter, was born on 28 July 1866 at 2 Bolton Gardens, South Kensington, London.  Although Beatrix and her brother, Walter Bertram (1872-1918), grew up in London, both were deeply influenced by long family holidays in the countryside, first in Scotland and later in the English Lake District, and by their northern roots.

As was the custom in families of her class, Beatrix was educated at home by several governesses.  An eager student of languages and literature, she grew up loving classic folk and fairy tales, rhymes and riddles.  Her talent for drawing and painting was discovered early and encouraged.  She drew her own versions of such stories as Cinderella

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Join Me On My Stroll in #Brixham Bay

Pretty Brixham. I wouldn’t live anywhere else! And why would I?

Photos (and I have many) taken during my dog walk in the picturesque Fish Town of Brixham Bay.

All Saint’s Church situated just a short stroll from my home and has so much history. At 8pm each evening, we can hear the church bells ringing out “Abide With Me” (a Christian hymn) written in 1847 by Scottish Henry Francis Lyte. He set it to music while he lay dying of tuberculosis; he only survived a further 3 weeks after its completion.

It is most often sung to English composer William Henry Monk’s tune entitled “Eventide” composed in 1861.

Henry Francis Lyte

Shortly after Lyte’s arrival in Brixham, the minister attracted such large crowds that the church had to be enlarged – the resulting structure later described by his grandson as a “hideous barn-like building”.

Stunning view across the outer harbour.

Lucy and Rosie

So well-behaved off their leads

Oxen Cove. Battery Gardens. Furzeham Green

Stunning sea views

I tend to use my iPhone to snap photos while I’m out and about in the bay. It’s small, easy to put in my bag or pocket. I’ve got a ‘real’ camera 🎥 but it’s a bit bulky to carry round. I might get mistaken for a sight seeing holidaymaker 😎 *laughs•

And then… home…we went!

My Books: The Adventures of Eric Seagull ‘Storyteller’ 3-book-series, set in picturesque Brixham Bay. Available on Amazon and most major online bookshops. Click the link or photo for more detail.


Brixham Marina. The Spanish El Galeón graced our waters for The Brixham Pirate Festival.


#Brixham Pirate Festival Weekend 2018

img_0744A sight to behold!

El Galeón weighs 500 tonnes, has an overall length of 160 feet and a beam of 32 feet. Four masts hold 6 sails which measure almost 11,000 square feet.

I was there. Were you? To get me in the mood, we…

…wined and dined (with husband Geoff) at the ever so busy and oh so popular Prince William at Brixham Marina: husband Geoff’s rump steak was cooked to perfecto. So was mine. My large glass of chilled Chardonnay was suitably chilled. Husband’s 🍺 pint of Tribute quenched his enormous thirst.

A huge thank you to the lovely Emma, and staff… we were, as usual, well looked after today.

And then…

the Brixham Fancy Dress… pirate ship… pirates and wenches a-plenty! All willing to pose in front of my lens. “Thanks me lovelies!” Find yerselves, if you be brave anuff!

Below: El Galeon, a Spanish galleon ship birthed at the Marina.


And now for some ‘ansome pirates!

Busy times in Brixham Bay. Holidaymakers galore, me shipmates! And, The Prince William (my regular eatery when it’s not taken over by pirates, that is).There be that there ship, again! (me talking like a pirate)!

A sleeping pirut! (pirate) No doubt ‘e’ll be walking the plank later, me ‘earties!

What’s going on yer me ‘earties?

Below: And there I be… ‘having a quick photo with a pirut (pirate) wench! (I could get used to this pirate garb)

A pirut (pirate) serenade or three!

They do ‘ang ’em ‘igh in Brixham Bay! Did thee’st know? Anyone know what his crime was? Nor me, and I lives yer! (Bit of my pirate lingo)

They seems like a nice lot! (what a nice bunch)

Yer be another… been in that cage a long time! Aye shipmates!

An’ another…poor sod!

Busy town! Brixham quayside.

And they luvs a bit of sing-song! (great music, lads)

Pondering a bit of plundering, no doubt!

Oh dear, that li’l ‘un aint too ‘happy ’bout the music (bottom right) Never mind, it’ll be over soon anuff me lad. (little boy; bottom corner, not looking too happy)

Pirates love to pose, dids’t thee know?

‘Ansum pair!

Below: Happy to pose for me lens, too. Thank you shipmates.

Hey dudes! Looking good shipmates! Thanks for posing for me lens today! (if you be wanting a copy of yer photo, let me know!) 

Well, someone has to work… Brixham Ferry Service…

A pirut taking a selfie… whatever next? (pirate taking his own photo)

Oops, that seafaring wench has summat in ‘er eye, me ‘earties! (Lady has a fly in her eye)

Couple of sea dogs, i’ll be blowed!

Below: A right ole bunch…up to no good… Pirates of Brixham Bay planning their next a-plundering, no doubt! Looking good me ‘parties! Good looking bunch.

Below: Brixham security! (Well someone’s got to do it!) handsome trio.

Where’s yer pirate clobber, me ‘earties! ‘ansum trio I ever did see. (Mia’s dad in the middle, all the way from Thailand indeed. Welcome to Brixham Bay!

Well… had to have me photo taken with Mia’s dad, didn’t I? All the way from Thailand too!

And so tall, I just had to have another picture! (Shut UP)!

Pirate dog!

Brixham harbour… oh so busy!

And then… home I did walk… back again Monday 7th May for some more pirate photos, and a tasty lunch at my favourite place, The Prince William, just the other side of the harbour. See you there!



Click here to buy my books ~ The Adventures of Eric Seagull ‘Storyteller’ set in Brixham Bay!


Thanks me ‘earties!

Sub-zero spring & our wildlife!

A chill wind sweeps across the hilly South Devon landscape (where I live), causing me to shiver and shudder on my early morning dog walk with my two cocker spaniels. As we head down the winding road towards the sea, my eyes weep at the mercy of the coldest winds hitting me in the face. My dogs’ ears look ready to take off as they flap about. Lucy and Rosie stay warm and cosy inside their thermal winter dog coats. Yes, well, I’m wrapped up for winter even though it is supposed to be spring. I can feel my colourful bobble atop my woolly hat bobbing this way and then that. My pink giraffe scarf wrapped several times round my neck is also keeping half my face warm. If one has asthma, as I do, we’re often told to keep a scarf over our mouth to keep cold air out and warm air in; hence, stopping (hopefully) an asthma attack.

pexels-photo-963063.jpegpexels-photo-418831.jpegWe arrive at the Battery Gardens overlooking the sea. Lucy and Rosie enjoy a run-about off their leads beneath the canopy of the tall tress, while I enjoy time off from the cold winds and take in the ambience of gardens natural beauty. A quick look out to sea, and not a ship in sight. Too rough even for the bravest sailors. Not long, and we’re heading home; this time the howling cold winds are blowing behind us and giving us a push upwards and along the pathway.

light-nature-vintage-tree.jpgIn the garden, the flowerbeds are looking sorry for themselves. My eyes scan the full bird feeders hanging on my gold coloured tall lamp-post in the corner. I’ve always fed the wildlife.

By now I would have expected to see all four types of early spring butterfly; the small tortoiseshell, peacock, comma and brimstone. So far, I haven’t spotted any at all.

Spring 2018 has thus far been a desolate one, and today those fluttering beauties will all be hunkered down, wishing they had never come out from their winter hide-holes.

Overall, it feels more like February than Eastertime. My winter clothes won’t be put away just yet.

On a lighter note, it’s lovely to have longer hours of daylight. March is one of my favourite times of year, even if it still feels like winter outside.

The Met Office uses March 1 as the official start of spring. Astronomers choose the spring equinox on March 21. Meanwhile, for most ordinary folk, the clocks going forward – as they did last weekend – is the most reliable indicator that winter is on its way out. Yet, despite all those milestones having passed, Mother Nature still doesn’t seem to have got the message.


Browse my books ~ gift ideas for Easter ~ Click here!



#Spring has Sprung

The clocks have gone forward. I’ve seen narcissi, crocuses, even daffodils. Like sap, my hopes are rising. My S.A.D (winter depression) has finally diminished. **Smiles**

Could last weekend’s plummeting temperatures have been the final door slam of that long, cold winter? About blooming time!

Most of the country had snow. Our devon garden looked pretty wearing its glossy, white overcoat. The snow was powdery. Dogs loved to pee on it. But, they didn’t stay outside any longer than necessary. I didn’t venture outside at all, except to bag up ‘dog-poo’. Temperatures were freezing. And, so cold was the weather that my pretty pink Devon Palm went to Tree Heaven!

I took a few photos:

Still time to get those easter gifts ~ click to browse my books ~


#PancakeDay 2018 Shrove Tuesday ~ I made 8 fantastical pancakes. Drop by and take a look.

Sharing my Gran’s recipe with you today. Why? Gran gained a Diploma in Baking back in the day. Pancakes (she could toss them high without them sticking to the ceiling) as well as her Sunday fruit cake, were the envy of all her family and friends.

Gran’s perfect pancakes: (If you’re making lots of pancakes, as I do, you might want to double the amount of flour and milk)


  • 100g plain flour (4ozs ~ in old money)
  • 2 eggs
  • 300ml semi-skimmed milk (just over 1/2 pint)
  • 1 tsp oil for frying. (Gran used solid white lard)
  • pinch salt


  1. Put the flour and a pinch of salt into a large mixing bowl. Make a well in the centre and crack the eggs into the middle. Pour in about 50ml milk. Start whisking/stirring from the centre, gradually drawing the flour into the eggs, and milk. Once all the flour is incorporated, beat until you have a smooth, thick paste. Add a little more milk if it is too stiff to beat.
  2. Add a good splash of milk and whisk to loosen the thick batter. While still whisking, pour in a steady stream of the remaining milk. Continue pouring and whisking until you have a batter that is the consistency of slightly thick single cream. (Yes, I get lumps too…it doesn’t matter).
  3. Heat the frying pan over a moderate heat, then wipe it with oiled kitchen paper, or add a drop of oil. The pan should be really HOT at this point. Ladle some batter into the pan, tilting the pan to move the mixture around for a thin and even layer. If you’ve added too much mixture, quickly pour any excess batter into a jug, return the pan to the heat, then leave to cook, undisturbed, for about 30 secs. Pour the excess batter from the jug back into the mixing bowl. If the pan is the right temperature, the pancake should turn golden underneath after about 30 secs and will be ready to turn.
  4. Hold the pan handle, ease a palette knife under the pancake, then quickly lift and flip it over. Make sure the pancake is lying flat against the base of the pan with no folds, then cook for another 30 secs before turning out onto a warm plate (or FLIP into the air, if you’re brave enough). Continue with the rest of the batter, serving them as you cook or stack onto a plate. You can freeze the pancakes for 1 month, wrapped in cling film or make them up to a day ahead.

I’ll post photos of my pancakes on the day, so pop back. Better still, follow my website/blog and you’ll receive updates as they occur. I’m looking forward to hearing about your pancake experience.

Cazzy xx

February 13th, teatime at ours, and, I’m back in the room. A few photos of my pancakes 🥞 as previously promised. I doubled the flour and milk: we all love Granny’s pancakes! I made 8 pancakes 🥞 but I’m no good at ‘tossing’ them 😂 And by golly they tasted fantastical.




How did your pancakes turn out? I’d love to hear from you.

Cazzy xx


Robins. The #Winter garden cutie

On a cold, not-so-sunny, winter’s morning, few sights lift my spirits quite as much as a robin hopping across the garden showing off its beautiful red breast.

Now and then it’ll fly up to a post and sing its delightful song, cheering me even more. I’m a sufferer of SAD (winter depression) so when creatures great and small visit my garden they always manage to bring about a warm smile to my face, and lift those winter blues and feelings of doom and gloom. I will quickly add, I’ve been taking a regular small daily dose of Vitamin D since March: (a) I didn’t get my usual October heavy cold and cough (b) winter depression didn’t kick in during October as it usually does, but, was delayed until December. In my opinion, this supplement has certainly helped me a lot.

Robins look to us for sustenance during cold spells, as their natural food of earthworms and other invertebrates can be hard to find. We feed birds all year round making sure the wild birdseed hanging containers are always topped up. Ours are squirrel-proof! Sorry if you’re a squirrel lover!

Most gardeners will agree, robins have struck up an extraordinary relationship with humans and will boldly perch on a bucket edge or spade handle ready to pick up worms that have been unearthed. They have such pretty eyes. These little birds are fearsome fighters with glorious voices and which, all too often, have a sadly short lifespan. They readily chase off blackbirds, sparrows, and tantalise my 2 cocker spaniels by hopping along the six foot tall wooden fence ~ chase me, why don’t you! My dogs love the banter too.

Our love of robins and habit of feeding them in our gardens goes back a rather long way according to legend.

Back in the sixth century, Saint Serf of Fife (most famous for slaying a dragon terrorising people near Loch Lomond) was apparently the first person to start feeding them.. His friends were so jealous they killed the bird, but fortunately it was brought back to life. I love a good ending, don’t you?

Stories about feeding robins are common because they are legendary for their tameness, and one of the few wild birds that will take food from the hand. I remember way back to when I was only about five or six years old, and my dad telling me to hold out my hand keeping my palm facing upward and flat. He would then place a few wriggly mealworms onto my hand. Well, as a little girl who loved to play in the dirt and have a strange fascination for huge long fat worms, that wasn’t a problem at all. I still rescue worms in the garden when they stray onto the patio. Yep, I pick them up by my fingers just as I did as a child and carefully put them back onto the garden. Some things never change. Teaching children to be kind to animals as well as creatures great and small was instilled into me at a very young age. My older brother would often rescue a frozen blackbird and bring it into the warm kitchen. Mother would make it a bed of straw or newspaper inside a cardboard box. Then, using a small glass dropper that she normally kept for putting olive oil into our ears to soften ear wax, she carefully applied a single drop of my dad’s best Christmas brandy onto its frozen beak. In no time at all, it’s eyes would open. Lastly, it’s wings would begin to thaw. I would always watch from afar: the bird would then hop round the warm kitchen delighted to be still alive. Only when it had thawed out fully would it be allowed back outside. The following day, we would do the same rescue for a frozen thrush or blackbird. I was five, and my brother would have been about eight at the time.

In the Twenties, former Foreign Secretary Edward Grey taught a robin to take food from his hand. He wrote about it in a best-seller, The Charm of Birds.

Recently, naturalist Hugh Warwick hand-tamed a robin in a few days. After a while, the bird would even come inside his home to beg for food, making him wonder who was in charge in their relationship. I could never do that…my eldest cocker spaniel is a bird fancier for all the wrong reasons!

We English love our robins. Two years ago it won a BBC television Springwatch poll to choose the UK’s national bird.

Robins used to nest in our evergreen holly bush, back in the fifties when I was a small child.

Another reason we connect robins with Christmas is that the early postmen wore red uniforms, and so were nicknamed ‘robins’. Anyone old enough to remember that? And, as the cards pop through your letter box over the coming days, note how many feature a robin! There are more than 300 different species in the family of birds known as old-world flycatchers and chats, including the redstart and the nightingale.

Like its cousin, the nightingale, robins often sing at night – especially in cities, where permanently lit street lamps fool them into thinking the sun is about to rise.

IMG_0788.jpgI see robins everywhere: especially in my beautiful Devon garden.

Best wishes




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