Whilst I may has alluded to my slight grievances with moving from the South to the North, I must now admit that ‘whilst in vain I have struggled’ the North (and the felid) has won me, ever so slightly, over. Transitions and change were never my strong point, and a massive move post a levels did not go down particularly well. That being said I was jetting off to Uni and doing my own thing within a month, so it made little impact. However before I knew it I had reached summer holidays and not the Cliff Richard kind, a time in most freshers lives where returning home is kind of a must. Dwelling on life in a field, pinning for friends and an overcrowded beach made up the majority of my first 3 weeks ‘home’. I must admit the slow paced ‘tranquillity’ was a bit of a shock to the system compared to the lively, social and vivacious Uni based lifestyle I had become accustomed to. Why escape to the country ? Surly the slow paced tranquility of an empty field is a utopia that should remain in the filed (pun intended) of idealism not reality! Whilst York itself is one of the most vibrant and exciting cities I have found in the Uk, the empty felid was not! The empty field surrounding me would of been amazing if it contained a petting zoo, a farm or the glasto pyramid stage; unfortunately my field was bleak. Crisis point was reached when ASOS informed me the van could not find my location and my delivery would have to be collected from the depot. I believe this was karma for me investing in 5 inch ankle boots rather than hunters! However a rather special picnic just last week may of been the small push I needed to get over my prejudice of empty fields and wax jackets. Whilst I may not be clicking together a red pair of Hunters claiming there really is no place like home, I am far more comfortable. In the words of Austen in Pride and Prejudice : “Angry people are not always wise.”, and anger I believe was the stem of my persistent refusal to settle, that and probably a bit of pride.
What caused this revelation? Well, as the title may suggest, it has a lot to do with a little book entitled Pride and Prejudice… oh and a picnic; an excellent library may be a fulfilling thing but a girls gotta eat! I shall just mention that I adore Pride and Prejudice, its one of my all time favourite stories and the first Jane Austen I read. Something about the concealed and confusing admiration of both parties combined with the fine line between hatred and attraction really spoke to me as a 17 year old. It must have been down to some standard teenage unrequited love and ever changing perceptions of people which allowed me to reduce the deeper themes of the book and make the rather too simple claim that I was Elizabeth Bennett. I of course also loved a bit of society drama which delights in starring society’s members through their words and actions, another result of me thinking I was far wittier and observant that I really was in lower sixth. Another reason to love Pride and Prejudice is that it inspired Bridget Jones, who I will claim for forever and a day is really me (But that shall be left for another post on another day)! My love for Darcy and Elizabeth has always grown alongside a displeasure for Heathcliff and Cathy, of Wuthering heights. I once drunkenly slurred to an english major that the restraint of Darcy is so more captivating and meaningful then the hyperbole of Heathcliff and Cathy as its more authentic. Authentic, equal and genuine being my buzzwords for desirable attributes in relationships of 2013, again a subject for another post another time. That my friends is the background to my interactions with one of the greatest love stories.
With the knowledge of my admiration for the book, my mother pointed out that Castle Howard was hosting a performance of the book with: a picnic, champagne reception and ‘meet ‘n’ greet’ with Mr Darcy on horseback. I think I was sold at champagne reception and the chance to leave the field. I booked my ticket and then hastily forgot about it. 2 weeks later (and a last ditch dash to M and S) I found myself making the drive, mother in tow, to Castle Howard; a place that I had not researched or heard of. It was there that I realised there might just be something to this tranquility and beauty of dales lark. What can I say, much like Elizabeth the beauty of (the bbc’s) Pemberly set among some empty fields, suddenly become quite enough and I gave up on my prejudices to emptiness and green.
The actual performance was amazing, it was open-air theatre and with the backdrop of a sun setting sky nothing could have been more perfect. Captivated once agin by the world of Lizzie and Darcy, I found my self ‘sigh’ at the climatic outburst: “My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”. Excellent game and form from the regency era. Despite what I may have slurred to the english major, in my own awful game, it might not be the what is said that I love but in-fact the appearance of a genuine outpouring. The actual words if uttered to me would probably result in me laughing, cruelly, but the rawness of Darcy’s declaration is something that shall probably be forever relatable and desirable. This performance captured it perfectly and with the setting it was made in to actual romantic magic whilst still being incredibly witty and funny. If you do get a chance to catch the last remaining dates of Charterhouse Theatre’s rendition of Pride andPredudice I would urge you to do so.
Finally, I thought I might list what was contained in my picnic basket because I might aswell end on a list and its always nice to think about food rather than love. Whilst the basket wasn’t quite regency or cream tea it was pretty amazing!
* Mini French bread stick
* Mini cheese board, made up of three mini cheeses
* A packet of Calamari (roasted with red pepper)
*Olives
*Salad
*Pistachios
*raspberry Jelly
*12 mini Macaroons
*Elderflower fizz.
Oh and this is what I wore (skirt is RIver Island and the basic tee is Topshop), I curled my hair and clipped it in to a side ponytail as If your not going to scrub up for Mr Darcy, who are you going to scrub up for?
Love Livs xxxx
No comments:
Post a Comment