Tag Archives: Coggeshall Farm Museum

Weekend at the Farm

21 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by in Clothing, Events, Living History

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The Young Mr in his new clothes

Fourteen year old boys don’t like to get up early, but we managed to rouse the beast on Saturday, and get him dressed, with only minor hostilities. He’s wearing all new clothes, except for the shirt, which I hope will not have to be replaced before the end of the summer. (I have now guaranteed that his arms will grow several inches in the next week.)

Mr S wore his new waistcoat but it’s hard to see under his jacket. He also got his new hat from Mr B, so he could upgrade from his knitted cap.

New hat, new waistcoat

New hat, new waistcoat

There are more photos here, including a fabulous stuffed leg of lamb. For mid-day Saturday, we ate a meat pie (pork and apples), sugar cakes, coriander biscuits, bread and molasses bread, all brought from home, along with hat from the farm boiled with parsnips, potatoes, carrots and onions and a carrot pudding. We also made a potato-apple-onion pie for the evening meal, though Mr S, the Young Mr and I did not stay. There is a limit to what the child will tolerate.

Sunday, we arrived in time for Mr S to make more fence pegs, while I joined the kitchen to make soup with ham, squash, parsnips, and onions, which we ate with bread and cheese, and the last of the sugar cakes, for lunch. All the while, a leg of lamb was cooking, masterfully prepared by Mrs B, and stuffed with cubed bread, onion, ham, sage and onion. To go with it, we made a rice pudding with apples, wilted greens, salad, squash pudding, and stewed apples. The sauce for the lamb was particularly fine, with drippings, minced onions, what we think was whiskey, butter and cream. I learn so much cooking with Mrs B!

waiting, wanting, hoping

The cats wanted, but were disappointed. They were calmer on Sunday, though extremely attentive kitchen assistants both days. Pity they don’t do dishes. There were plenty to wash. 1799 was definitely greasy. Even the striped cat feels a little greasy, but that could be because he’s handy to wipe your hands on.

Now it’s on to sewing for something else, though whether that will be wool trousers or clothes for Washington’s Birthday, I don’t really know.

It Isn’t History Till it Hurts

02 Sunday Dec 2012

Posted by in History, Living History, Museums

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End of the day, Sunday

End of the day, Sunday

That’s approximately what the costumed interpreters say their leader says.

Let me affirm for you that history does, in fact, hurt, when you are doing it right. That is to say, you will be bodily tired. You will be hungry. You will be cold. Your judgment will be impaired. Your world will shrink.

I have so many thoughts/ideas/inspirations/observations after another weekend at the farm that I do not quite know where to begin.

Yesterday, I made 290 candlewicks and draped them, with some help, over 50 sticks. My colleague and I managed to dip each stick of 6 wicks 2 or 3 times, though I had to trim the wicks after the first or second dip so they would match the depth of the kettle. Today, we got there late (thanks to my broken stay laces which had to be replaced…once replacements were found…annoying) so the fire was not hot, the wood not gathered, the tallow not melted—oh, it was not what this control freak wanted. I wanted to both make dinner and dip candles.

Well, we did manage both, in a way. Dinner was more of a snack of boiled chicken and root vegetables, followed by a snack of squash custard tart, and the candle dipping was managed only sporadically once the tallow was melted. First it was too cold, then too hot: it was a day of details. At some point I realized I was so tired that I could no longer think about a simple thing, and that what got in my way was simple lack of fluency. If I did this every day, I wouldn’t need to think about it. But I don’t. So while I can do these unfamiliar tasks, they are just a bit harder when I am cold, hungry, tired, or hurting.

Hot tip: sheepskin insoles. In wool stockings yesterday, my feet were freezing cold in the kitchen when I was not near the fire. With sheepskin insoles, my feet were warm today. Your mileage may vary, but well worth a try.