There’s a village nestled somewhere in the chalk downs of Wiltshire in the south west of England. As a village it is unremarkable – undeniably picturesque and very cute, but there are hundreds like it all along the rambling country lanes. In other respects, however, this particular village is unique indeed.

The stone circle at Avebury is the largest henge and stone circle complex in Britain. The village itself winds through the monoliths – many of the missing stones were broken up and built into the very fabric of the village itself.

The circle itself is more than 5000 years old. The henge – bank and ditch – is considered the first stage of the structure, and is over 400 metres in diameter. The outer circle of large sarsens originally consisted of 98 stones, some up to 40 tonnes in weight. Within the large outer circle are two smaller circles, one with a cove (a u-shaped configuration of 3 stones) at its centre, and one centred by a single huge stone, weighing up to 100 tonnes.

The Avebury circle is … well, awe-inspiring. Despite the ominous atmosphere provided by darkened skies, photos don’t do justice to the drama of the scene that confronts you when you see these stones in person. The circle is accessible – unlike Stonehenge, here you can walk amongst them, touch them, feel dwarfed by their shadows. The view across the downs from the top of the henge is dramatic, and the mystery surrounding the stone’s existence within this idyllic landscape is tangible.

The circle and henge are part of a wider prehistoric landscape. Stretching out from the henge are two sarsen-lined avenues, the West Kennet Avenue and the Beckhampton Avenue. In the hills nearby lie the enormous man-made Silbury Hill, with its distinctive flat top, and the West Kennet Long Barrow, where the remains of up to 40 burials were uncovered, dating back between 4000 and 5000 years or more.

There’s more mysterious phenomena to be found in the hills surrounding Avebury village than the Neolithic human influence. Every summer, Wiltshire experiences the overnight appearance of those enigmatic creatures known as crop circles. Often more popular with the tourists than the stone circle itself, the mysterious patterns appear in the summer-ripening wheat and corn fields, prompting many an irate farmer to destroy the evidence before the field is trampled by a horde of curious travellers. Regardless of which theory you ascribe to, the reality of a crop circle at ground level is a decidedly anticlimactic experience – they are simply too large to be able to appreciate without the benefit of distance – as the many small aircraft overhead can attest to.

Whatever your circle interests – whether Neolithic or mystic – this amazing place is full of atmosphere and mystery, with plenty of unanswered questions to fire your imagination. Enigmatic and inexplicable, Avebury is one place that will continue to fascinate long after you leave its physical presence behind.

photographs and text by zoë yule

Friends, this post is quite poignant, and has been a difficult one to write. So I hope you will forgive me some waffle.

Way back, many months ago, when I first met Pia, I sent her an invitation to my own private (shamefully neglected) blog which I write for family and friends back home. One post in particular caught her eye, after I visited a wonderful museum in the heart of the canal district: the Van Loon house.

The grand double-fronted canal house dates from 1672, and was once the residence of Ferdinand Bol, one of Rembrandt’s more successful students. Throughout the 19th century, the Van Loons, a wealthy and influential family in Amsterdam, made the house their primary residence.

Various Van Loon family members were at times city councillors and mayors of Amsterdam, and held key positions within the Dutch East-India Company.

The last resident of the house prior to its conversion to a museum was Thora van Loon-Egidius. She was Dame du Palais (friend, confidant and lady-in-waiting) to Queen Wilhelmina for forty years, and as such entertained royal guests and important visitors at the house. The current Mrs van Loon occupies a similar position in the court of Queen Beatrix, and lives in the house next door to the museum.

My new friend and I visited the house (and another similar), during which Pia made an astute observation: despite the grand, opulent surroundings of the reception rooms and family apartments, my attention was firmly occupied by the less celebrated goings-on behind the scenes. It turns out I like to know what’s behind closed doors! The life and work of the unseen members of the household – the housemaids, the cook, the butler and others – these were the stories I wanted to hear. Their attic bedrooms are not accessible to the public, but the light, cosy kitchen and “below stairs” rooms are, though I doubt they would have been particularly light and airy with that huge range running constantly.

This visit was the beginning of a beautiful friendship (corny, I know) and I have been saving it for a special occasion, reminiscing.

As I write this post, I have left Amsterdam for Bristish shores, to embark on a very exciting new phase in my adventure overseas. I leave behind many wonderful friends, but I take with me many more wonderful memories. One particular friendship, the one I’ve spoken of that started with the Museum van Loon, has been instrumental in giving me the courage to pursue my dream career, even though it has meant moving away. As a book editor I love to work with authors who are passionate about their pet subject, whatever it is. As I got to know Pia I began to realise that I would be a better editor if I could work with authors who were passionate about the same pet subjects as I am. And so, I have left my years of academic editing behind, to try and make it in the world of baking and craft, gardening and design, interiors and exteriors: all the things I love in a book.

This was going to be my last post, but Pia is so, so busy with a couple of huge projects at the moment (stay tuned – I know they’ll be worth waiting for!) and has asked if I’d stay a little longer. So you’ll see a little more of me here over the coming month or so as I pop by every now and then to let you know how I’m getting on. At the moment I’m really loving the ability to communicate with ease, though never let it be said that speaking the same language means instant understanding – there are accents over here that I cannot fathom a word of!!

Wish me luck!

All photographs and text by Zoë Yule.

“This winter-eve is warm,

Humid the air! leafless, yet soft as spring,

The tender purple spray on copse and briers!

And that sweet city with her dreaming spires,

She needs not June for beauty’s heightening”

–Matthew Arnold

This summer I spent several glorious weeks roaming the “pleasant pastures” and “mountains green” of the English countryside. Along the way I spent a couple of memorable, though damp, days in a town so steeped in history and knowledge you can almost feel it oozing from the beautiful golden sandstone facades.

The “dreaming spires” of Oxford are dreamy indeed – a more beautiful centre of learning you would be hard pressed to find. The thought of 700 years of students crossing the threshold of the hallowed college halls is awe-inspiring. I’m pretty sure you absorb wisdom just being here, if only by osmosis.

Shall I show you around? We can start in the neighbouring village of Kidlington, where we leave our luggage at the cosy, perfectly English, 300-year-old cottage of our “home away from home” in Oxford. Later, we can take a sneaky peek through the hedges and daydream of owning one ourselves.

A short bus ride into the centre of town and we find the Cornmarket, where the 900-year-old tower of St Michael at the Northgate still stands. We can climb to the top of the Carfax tower on the corner, and gaze out over the skyline with its myriad clock towers and church spires that so inspired Matthew Arnold.

A short wander down St Aldate’s takes us past the imposing Town Hall to the Old Tom clock tower, entrance to the majestic Christ Church college, with the cathedral and refectory buildings visible through the archway. As the sun peeks through the clouds, the War Memorial Gardens beckon, their summer roses and frothy campanula spilling over the warm rock walls.

The Meadows, one of the residential buildings of Christ Church looks out over the Christ Church Meadow, where the University’s sheep and cattle are still set out to graze.

The oldest botanic gardens in Britain are still a repository for exotic specimens, and a peaceful place for a stroll down to the riverside, where the punts bob gently on the water.

I don’t know about you, but all this rambling has me hankering for a warm scone with homemade jam and rich clotted cream – the vaulted cellars and churchyard gardens of St Mary’s look like the perfect spot for a pick-me-up. Across Radcliffe Square, the imposing Radcliffe Camera houses the famous Bodleian Library, while the lane leads past yet more college quads and down to the Sheldonian Theatre where those much-anticipated graduation certificates are awarded.

For a closer look at the stately college Halls, we can peek into the chapel and cloisters of New College (who’s 600-year history belies its name), made famous by the Harry Potter movies, and tread the worn threshold of the imposing dining hall, where the walls echo with the voices of hundreds of students and eminent academics of the past.

The grounds of New College are among the most beautiful of all the colleges, and stretch out along the only remnant of the ancient city wall still standing. The peaceful wooded walks and sweetly-scented herbaceous borders are a perfect retreat from the hustle and bustle of a busy university schedule. Or sight-seeing schedule. Perhaps I’ll see you there again sometime!

all words and photographs by zoë yule

There are parts of the Netherlands that can still surprise even native residents of the country. While the west coast is heavily populated, busy and very urbanised, the eastern border regions are refreshingly rural, with lush rolling… well, ok, there aren’t any “hills” as such, but plenty of green grass and picturesque barns!

The land in this part of the Netherlands is older, the trees more mature, the waterways more naturally meandering – unlike much of Amsterdam, this side of the country has always been at least a couple of metres above sea level! The towns and cities of this region are some of the oldest in the Netherlands, and the land is fertile and flat and open.

Despite heavy bombing in the war, the regional centres of Arnhem, Apeldoorn and Nijmegen, and smaller towns like Deventer and Zutphen have retained much of their medieval market centres and ancient city walls, redolent with a quiet elegance that belies their more modern descent into ignominy. Spanning major waterways, such as the Rhine and the IJssel, these were once grand trading centres with illustrious histories stretching back beyond Roman settlement.

With the chill of autumn in the air, it was a pleasure to travel through the verdant fields, greeting black-faced sheep and short, fat little ponies enjoying the last of the lush summer grass, and catching glimpses of grand manor houses through the trees.

To cap off an enchanting weekend: the Hoge Veluwe National Park, a wild, mysterious woodland space, a legacy of the lifelong dreams of Anton Kröller and his German wife, Helene Kröller-Müller. Travelling in true Dutch style, quietly and peacefully, occasionally catching a glimpse of red deer or wild boar, revelling in the sounds and smells of nature in its element.

photographs and words by zoë yule.

I had something completely different planned for my next post for you, but the weather here in Amsterdam today has been truly diabolical, and I have retreated back to the warmth and colour of Morocco again in protest. I hope you will forgive my selfishness, and I promise I’ll share more Amsterdam adventures very soon.

So, let me take you on a journey through another glorious city of Morocco, with a very different atmosphere to the relaxed vibe of Essaouira. Fes is one of Morocco’s four Imperial cities, and served as the country’s capital at various times depending on the whim of the king at the time. The 9th century medina of Fes al-Bali, the ancient walled city within the sprawling metropolis, is a truly bewildering maze of alleys and doors – getting lost within its walls is a right of passage for visitors to the city.

The city snakes along the valley of the River Fes; ancient fortress walls and turrets crown the surrounding hillsides, affording a great view of the medina below. The Blue Gate heralds the entrance to the old town, with the enormous minaret of the Kairaouine mosque visible through the arch. The attached University of Al-Kairaouine, founded in 859 AD, is the oldest continually operating university in the world, cementing Fes’ reputation as a city of great scientific and religious learning through the ages.

The medina of Fes el-Bali is overwhelming – a gigantic maze of tiny, intricate alley-ways and tunnel-like streets, with people, shops, animals and houses all piled on top of each other in much the same way they have been for centuries. Transport options are similarly traditional – donkeys are equipped with special shoes made from recycled tyres, which allow them to traverse the sometimes steep cobbled streets, especially when their panniers are packed higher than their heads! As a pedestrian, besides the donkeys, which give way to nobody, the kamikaze motorcycle riders make walking the narrow streets an adventure not for the faint-hearted.

The souks buzz with colour and noise. Fes is renowned for its leather production, and the tanneries nestled deep within the leather souk have been operating in the same way by generations of the same families for hundreds of years. The view from the showrooms is one of the most picturesque (and subsequently photographed) views in the country.

Other souks are the traditional home of weavers, coppersmiths, fresh food purveyors or sweetmeat and nougat producers. The busy streets are punctuated with the great arched entrances to mosques and madrasas: oases of calm tiled with mesmerising geometric mosaics and intricate carved-wood facades.

Beautifully restored caravanserai offer a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle; with spaces on the ground floor to accommodate both camels and their cargo, and accommodation above for their human masters, these trading houses provided temporary retail space for merchants to dispose of their exotic wares.

Outside the city limits, smoke rises from the pottery kilns the city is so famous for, producing intricate cobalt-glazed ceramics and zellij (mosaic tiles). One of the most impressive views of the city can be found from the roof terrace of the Crown Palace Hotel; perched high on the surrounding hillsides it provides the perfect vantage point, cocktail in hand, from which to take in the smoke-reddened sunset over the city. The evening call to prayers, swelling from the 40 or so mosques in the old city, echoes across the valley and delivers a truly magnificent soundtrack to a magical day in an intriguing city.

all text and photographs by zoë yule