The world from my window

It's Mr Grigg's birthday and I've splashed out and bought us joint membership to  The National Trust . It wasn't that expensive and we should have joined years ago. We're surrounded by beautiful stately homes and are regular visitors to this place, just up the road from us in Lush Places. It's the highest point in Dorset (one of my  friends  got deliciously lost here, which she recounts in this blog post  on Totally Dorset ). Lewesdon looks down on  The Enchanted Village  like a protective parent. But joining the Trust was always something we were going to do when we had more time. And, besides, it's what old people do, and we're not that old. Yet. And then my work changed (hey, if there is anyone who needs a writer, please get in touch!) and I suddenly had more time. And, after a conversation with my young stonemason nephew (who has worked on the glorious Tyntesfield , which I am saving up to visit on a metaphorical rainy day), I dec...

In through the gateway we go, along a path and down past the hurdle fence. We're out in a little terrace, a real sun trap, in front of a cottage. There are swathes of blue love in a mist flowers to the left of us. 'Follow the arrows,' our hostess says. 'There's tea and home made cake at the bottom of the garden.' We're in the heart of Beaminster. It's a little cottage tucked behind an ordinary terrace. But the grounds are a dream. They're full of wild flowers and informal planting, a real joy for a country child like me. There are wooden seats here and there, and a bit of statuary. There are also some few people ambling around, lured in by the red balloon on the gate. We make our way down through foxgloves, ox-eye daisies, spurge, lavender and valerian, along a springy grass and clover path the width of a lawnmower. 'You're going to love this bit,' my friend says. She's been here before and she also knows me very well. ...