I hadn’t been to The Hope Café in this new year, so popped in on Wednesday, in the off chance some of the regulars would be there. I had my iPad so wouldn’t be too disappointed if they weren’t, as we all need time alone. January is a funny month, notable for those who have decided to undertake some new hobby/new eating regime/become TT for the month/maybe not drink coffee etc, so I wasn’t too surprised that the café was fairly empty, just Josh behind the counter and a few tables occupied.

With my double espresso I opened my iPad and found a collection of news items I had been planning to discuss and share with either Sami, Mo, Lisa, Robert, Anna or even Duncan.

Don’t know about you, but Celina and I have a regular groceries delivery, topping up as necessary from our local shops, all within walking distance. At the beginning of January, I ordered a little tub of Pomegranate seeds, in the belief they have magical benefits and we should all be ingesting them daily.

Unfortunately Waitrose had run out and, reminiscent of the early days of online shopping when substitutions bore little resemblance to what you had actually ordered, had delivered some Red currants instead. I like these little tangy balls so told Darren we’d keep them. “Never know what to do with them, too fiddly!” was his retort. I like teaching people new skills, so showed him how one can run the tines of a fork down the stalk and the individual currants fall off.

There was some discussion in The Times Feedback page about whether it’s correct to say one lives, in my case, in East Sussex or Sussex. A little research says there are 39 historic counties in England, of which Sussex is one.

But then many counties are sub-divided to create administrative areas, like Yorkshire, historically one but now comprising North Yorkshire, South Yorkshire, West Yorkshire, the East Riding of Yorkshire and the City of York as a unitary authority. The County of Sussex got divided into East and West, simple divisions for local government authorities, so I have reverted to ‘Sussex’; these things matter, don’t they? I mentioned this to Sam, my son-in-law, who found a fascinating piece of history.

Sussex is the only county to have sub-divisions called Rapes. The six Rapes of Sussex were established by the Normans in 1066. Stretching in strips from the northern border to the coast, each rape was centred on a fortified castle and port to provide military defence and easy access to France. The six were Chichester, Arundel, Bramber, Lewes, Pevensey and Hastings. The name ‘rape’ likely stems for the old English word for rope, referring to the ancient practice of using rope (cord) to measure out land boundaries. You might have known, but I didn’t, that a ‘cord’ is a standard length, 8 feet; but did you know that a ‘full cord’ is a volume of stacked firewood (4ft x 4ft x 8ft – 128 cubic feet (3.62 m³))?

I picture this tidy stack of logs and my thoughts revert to a simpler world!

In The Times’ Obituary pages the other day, I was intrigued to read of Cecilia Giménez, an amateur artist who had lived in the northern Spanish town of Borja. In the town’s Sanctuary of Mercy church was a 1930’s painting, ‘Ecce Homo’, painted by Elías García Martínez.

The Original Ecce Homo

Over decades Cecilia had done her best to protect the painting from the ravages of the town’s humid air, a little bit here, a little bit there, but in 2012 had undertaken a comprehensive restoration ….. which didn’t turn out well.

News of the ‘monkey face’ painting travelled far and wide and, to the little town’s mayor’s surprise, in August 2012 a busload of tourist arrived in Borja to see it. They decided to charge €1; some 150,000 arrived over the following three years, giving the dying town a huge financial boost. Cecilia overcame the initial ridicule she had caused, personally benefitted from the merchandising and came to like the ‘monkey face’; she died in December aged 94.  

Another 94-year-old who checked out at the end of last year was my distant cousin Peter Russell. Regular readers will remember Celina and my trip from Auckland to Rotorua in late September to see the Russell family. I am so pleased we did; he had built a jewellery business in Christchurch (NZ) and was a great example of a good life well lived.

I am always saddened when someone dies well before their expected life span and Skye Gyngel is one. The daughter of a well-known Australian media tycoon, Bruce Gyngell, she had developed a passion for simple food and, after working under Anton Mosimann at The Dorchester, found a run-down glasshouse and plant nursery in the grounds of Petersham House in Richmond to demonstrate her ideas.

Petersham Nurseries Café at the red marker

In 2004 she opened Petersham Nurseries Café; there were 15 tables and it only opened at weekends. Her kitchen was an old shed with a two-ring stove, the dining area mismatched tables and chairs and a beaten-earth floor. I went a few times, parking the car in Richmond Park and walking the two miles or so to the Petersham Gate. The whole experience was quirky and, with unfussy food, a delight.

In the rough and ready dining area in 2006

Within a year it had won the Time Out award for best al fresco dining and in 2011 a Michelin Star. The latter Skye regarded as a bit of a curse and she left the following year; within the next ten years she opened three London and Hampshire restaurants.

Skye Gyngell at Heckfield Place in Hampshire

You may be able to tell from her photograph she had freckles! Last year she was diagnosed with the rare skin cancer Merkel cell carcinoma and died in November at the young age of 62.

Ah! Mo’s arriving …….

“Hi! Mo ……. can I buy you a coffee?”

Richard 23^rd January 2026

Hove

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