An impromptu evening in Heybridge

On a beautiful evening after a long day's work, we drove over to Copsey's incomparable chip shop in Heybridge, and sat on a bench overlooking Heybridge Basin to eat our superbly battered haddock and perfect chips (with mushy peas, naturally) while watching the sun go down. It was observed, simultaneously, that, had we taken time off for a few days'  'real' holiday somewhere in the UK, we'd probably just be sitting on a bench watching the sun go down over water, eating fish and chips anyway. At such moments it becomes clear that, when one lives in such a beautiful part of the world, there's often little point in bothering to go anywhere else!

We'd intended to repair briefly to the Old Ship after supper, but, following a chance encounter, ended the evening sharing a glass or two of wine aboard a beautiful 40ft yacht in the Lock , with a couple who had returned days earlier from a year's sailing trip to the Caribbean with their two young children. What an enviable adventure.

Catching up I

Hello!

It's been a while - nearly a month, in fact - since I last posted anything here. Work often overtakes my life in March, and this year it has done so with more of a vengeance than usual. So, mindful of the enormously distracting influence of the blogosphere, I have given it up for Lent, to be on the safe side. Apologies, therefore, to all my favourite bloggers whose words and pictures I have not visited, and also to the very kind readers of Musings who have been enquiring after my well-being. All is well, I can assure you - I've simply needed to concentrate my entire attention on the less entertaining business of meeting deadlines and earning a living.

There is still much to be done but, having accidentally found myself taking much of the day off in order to do some essential shopping, entertain some essential visitors, and run some essential errands, I thought . . . oh what the, er, 'heck', I'll end this less than work-productive day by catching up with the old blog before the Easter break.

Today, my elder daughter's only non-ripped, non-paint-spattered jeans were declared unwearable, the zip having 'gone'. We are visiting Grannie and Grandpa tomorrow. Grannie and Grandpa don't really 'understand' ripped jeans (in fact, they don't really understand jeans per se and have never been seen anywhere near, let alone IN, anything made of denim themselves). A trip into Colchester was thus urgently called for, and a pair of 'respectable' jeans purchased (together, I regret to say, in a manner which reveals my Great Antiquity, with a pair of 'ready-ripped' jeans . . . I can't believe I've spent good money on such an item, but ho hum, that's progress and the Modern Age, I suppose, grump grump).

The time-consuming and spiritually exhausting process of finding exactly the right size, length, fit, shape, colour and label of said jeans successfully completed, a trip to the Colchester branch of James and Maggie's Art Cafe was more than called for.

And a cup of their highly recommended Hot Chocolate with Chilli was duly consumed. Here's a horribly out-of-focus snap:


A few errands later, and supper (cooked by SD#1, who's becoming very competent and useful on the catering front) consumed, My Boy and I set off with the dog for our evening's dog-walk. This started well, with a Nice Cup of Tea and Sit Down on the old jetty to watch the sun go down and listen to the birds settling for the night. But our peaceful companionship was disturbed by a party of people for whom quiet musing was clearly not on the agenda, so we retired gracefully to walk the sea wall until darkness fell.

Stranded again

The Strood, looking towards Mersea from Peldon, at high tide yesterday.

This photo was actually taken - the in-car binoculars having disappeared - to establish whether the water was covering the lower railing of the fence at its deepest point. If the rail is visible, then, on a calm day, it is possible for the Musings family Discovery, tail-end duly elevated, to negotiate the causeway without incident - though this still requires some skill (not possessed by me, I hasten to add) in constantly blowing water out of the submerged exhaust and keeping the wheels in exactly the right trajectory. It also depends on not being engulfed by the bow-wave of other intrepid vehicles. So always a bit of a white-knuckle ride for me, nervous passenger that I am on these occasions.

None of this malarkey would have been necessary at all, had I not lost track of the tides through being too busy to walk the beach these last couple of days, and also had the crucial Tide Table not mysteriously vanished (along with the binoculars) from the car. As it was, the tides being particularly high at the moment, the Strood was impassable for a good forty minutes before the water was even at its deepest, and so there was nothing else for it but either to sit thumb-twiddling for an hour or to turn back to the Peldon Rose for a time-killing lunch. The latter was no very great hardship - indeed it was an excellent decision!

Although the main bars in the ancient part of the pub were closed (owing to flooding, I think - there were men with pumps milling around outside) the conservatory restaurant was open as usual, the service was brisk and friendly and the food - smoked mackerel quiche and salad, and bangers and mash - was as every bit as delicious as one has come to expect of this favourite eatery.

On 3rd February 2008 . . .

. . . I posted this revelatory Musing.

So it will not come as any surprise to learn that, today, while the 4 (for the very last time!) remains in place, the 8 has lurched forward to become 9. Eeeek!

For the benefit of my considerably younger readers, let me simply say that, although this might seem an unfeasibly large number of years to have been in existence - and despite the externals daily adopting an ever more, erm, 'lived-in' appearance - on the inside, let me assure you, we Persons of a Certain Age remain as youthful and skittish as ever. As full of uncertainty and wondering what will become of us when we are Grown Up as we were at 19 or 29. And as lacking in wisdom and prey to the whims of our hormones as you are!

So there!

Quite when maturity and wisdom do kick in on this journey through life, I've yet to discover. Maybe the big Five O will do the trick at last? Perhaps those of my readers who are slightly ahead of me along the road will advise.

Suffice to reiterate the strange truth alluded to last year: that despite having been subjected to all the usual grinding wear and tear(s) of life, loves, work and parenthood, I don't feel anything like old enough to be in the final year of my first half-century. Absolutely and categorically not. How can things get so out of kilter? I've no idea.

Since Tuesdays are pretty busy on the family front, with early school buses to be caught and after-school music lessons and masses of homework, etc etc, I decided to wind the clock forward (or was it back?) and celebrate in a very modest way on Sunday afternoon instead.

So Sunday morning was Baking Day for SD#3 and me. SD#3 is my little cake-making soulmate - oh how she loves all the mixing and stirring and tasting and the wondrous oveny alchemy that transforms damp colourless splodge into fragrant, golden-brown (or as she has wittily dubbed it, 'Gordon-Brown') delicious sponginess. That's my girl.

'Do you think we should check whether it's Gordon Brown yet?', she asks, falling off the stool with self-induced laughter (which, as we all know, is the most uncontrollable kind of all). 'Yup, it's nicely Gordon Brown, let's take it out now and make the icing.'


We made a coffee cake to stick the token candle in. Decorations by SD#3.

And some flapjacks, because we are all completely wild about oats here.

And a Sticky Lime and Coconut cake from M's fabulous recipe on Random Distractions. Something went a teensy bit wrong and it sank a bit in the middle (though it wasn't burnt around the edges as this very poor photo might suggest) and was subsequently a little too well drenched in the sticky-making syrupy liquid. And served while still warmish and soft. So nul points for aesthetics (oh, and the ad-libbed lime rind on top was a bad idea too - although it looked quite pretty!) . . . but ooooh, it was supremely delicious and disappeared astonishingly quickly. More of a pudding than a cake, which it isn't supposed to be. But I will have another go soon, and I do urge cake fiends everywhere to try it (quickly, before Lent is upon us!)

Some dear friends came round, and I was presented with some fabulous hand-made cards, masses of flowering plants for indoors and out, some garden tools, a mop (! ahem! thanks!), a beautiful hand-made velvet brooch, some very nice chocs and this optimum-size tea cup.

I am notorious for my ability to down several gallons of tea in a day. And for my urgent need to drink tea post-eating, post-walking, post-sleeping, post-just about everything. So this one was not so very far off the mark. Unfortunately, it has a hole in the bottom, because it's supposed to be employed as an amusing plant-pot holder. But I think it looks much better as fruit bowl.

So, that was Sunday. And that was supposed to be that. (Apart from an evening's entertainment on Monday, which was sadly scuppered by the weather conditions, ho hum.) So today was going to be a normal working day for me. Heaven knows, I had more than enough work to be getting on with. But it didn't turn out quite that way, and there were a number of wonderful surprises. Not least amongst them the lovely friends who whisked me off unexpectedly to lunch at Mersea's excellent Oyster Bar. (Thank you so much xxxxx!)

The Oyster Bar is a relatively recent addition to the select list of eating establishments on the island, but a most welcome one. Its name belies the fact that it serves every kind of seafood, from shellfish to skate to a vastly superior version of yer common or garden fish 'n' chips.


So there's something for everyone. The seafood platter is loaded with every conceivable delight, from smoked salmon and mackerel to several varieties of shellfish, and a dressed crab on top. The scallops are stonkingly huge and delicious and - my standard favourite and not disappointing in any way for the umpteenth time - the crab linguine with mango and lime is simply divine and, spirit of adventure notwithstanding, will be my choice next time as well. And the time after that. And . . . probably every visit from now until I drop. Please accept this as the warmest recommendation and try it for yourself when you visit the Muddy Island. As indeed you must.

We walked off our fishy excesses with a stroll on TBTA (with a rugby ball for those whose school remained closed owing to 'bad weather'). Here, only the faintest evidence of the previous day's snow remained in evidence.

The sky was blue, the sunlight warm and golden, the early morning black ice thankfully evaporated. Hard to believe that a 'major snow event' had occurred only 24 hours previously.

I've been at my desk most of the evening, catching up with work, but I don't regret that one little bit. Thanks to everyone who's helped to make 3.2.09 an unexpectedly memorable day.

Beyond the Muddy Island, Part I

It is good to remind oneself, occasionally, that there are plenty of jolly nice places beyond these muddy shores - and not very far away, either.

I explored a few of them over the weekend. The weather was absolutely atrocious, however, and therefore the camera was kept under wraps for much of the time.

First, the Suffolk Yacht Harbour near Levington on the River Orwell. Lunched at the Haven Ports Yacht Club - a lovely old lightship - and delightfully cosy below decks while wind and rain lashed relentlessly outside.

A warming steak and ale pie, served in a huge dish with some pleasantly al dente winter vegetables slid down very well, aided by the (for me) inevitable Guinness. It was quite difficult to galvanise oneself afterwards into facing the stormy outside world again.

Onward to the next river up the Suffolk coast, the Deben, and Woodbridge - too wet for the camera, so no pics. Enjoyed tea and vast wedge of delicious cake in Browsers Bookshop .

And thence to the mouth of the Ore to investigate the strange, isolated village of Shingle Street - a small collection of cottages (together with a Martello Tower, now a private dwelling) abutting an inhospitable bank of shingle, beyond which the river runs parallel to the sea, separated by another spit of shingle. It is supposedly the site of a foiled German invasion during the Second World War - but the facts won't be made available under the Official Secrets Act until 2021, so one can only wonder. I can't quite believe that I was persuaded to venture forth into the howling storm to walk a few hundred yards along the shore in such weather, but that is what happened. My ears took some hours to recover from the effects of the bitter wind and needle-sharp rain.

My family and I spent the long hot summer of 2000 living in Dedham - renting a characterful and spacious cottage on the High Street between selling one house and completing the purchase of another. It was an interesting experience, living in such an old established village, which retains a vice-like grip on social hierarchy and doing things 'properly'. It was a privilege to call it home for a short while, although I don't think I should have liked to settle there for good.

Still, it is always lovely to go back as a visitor. Continuing the east coast river theme of the day, Dedham sits on the river Stour, which forms the boundary at that point between Essex and Suffolk. We caught the glorious fifteenth-century Church of St Mary the Virgin still open at dusk - the ladies who arrange the flowers were busy preparing the Christmas decorations and kindly let us in for a quick look around. (There's an online tour here - scroll to foot of page and click link.)

Repaired to the splendid Sun Inn, opposite the church, for - guess what? - yep, more tea - and the opportunity to dry off in front of a (unfortunately as yet unlit) fire in the attractive sofa-strewn, wood-panelled lounge. A relaxing way to end a blustery, cold and wet but nevertheless perfect day out.

The joy of soup

It's well and truly December. And I'm pining rather badly for something to which I'd become deeply attached: the New Covent Garden Food Co's November Soup of the Month, now sadly no longer available. I do wish I'd stockpiled. And I do hope they resurrect it as part of their standard range.

What was so special about November's Soup of the Month? It was Chilli Bean and Chocolate. Yes, chocolate!

Chocolate Soup. Was ever there a more perfect combination in the history of comfort eating?

The use of chocolate in savoury dishes still seems rather strange in the UK, although it's a workaday combination in Latin American countries. Speaking of which, if you haven't read Laura Esquivel's magical Mexican novel and/or seen the film Like Water for Chocolate, then you've missed an unforgettably sensual feast of food, passion and . . . chocolate.

The chilli/chocolate combo is also divinely available in Montezuma chocolate bar form. Taste it, think 'hmm, nice choc, but I wonder where the chillis have got to', and then, moments later - kerpow! Amazing stuff. And addictive. For some reason the Mersea Co-op stopped stocking it about a year ago, so now I have to travel off the island to get my fix, and I haven't had one of those for ages. It's about time I did.

Anyway, I am digressing from souply matters. On special offer at Tescos for a pound a carton, Chilli Bean and Chocolate became my almost daily lunchtime treat. And I miss it rather terribly.

Luckily, there are vast, soupy oceans of discovery out there which are almost as nice though not necessarily involving chocolate (which some might consider a huge point in their favour).




As the weather worsens and the days grow shorter, I find myself with soup increasingly on my mind (as well as dribbled across my workstation on occasion), and am often to be seen rummaging in fridges and cupboards, looking for that vital missing ingredient which will turn the contents of my bubbling cauldron miraculously from, for example, very runny mashed potato with aimlessly floating bits of leek, into Pure Culinary Magic.

Sometimes it happens. Sometimes, unfortunately, it doesn't quite get there. But it matters not, because although I have plenty of real recipes in real recipe books on my kitchen shelves, I do believe that the very best soup in the world is the kind which arises spontaneously, via some mysterious alchemy, from random leftovers and surplus vegetables, seasoned with much grinding of pepper mills, intemperate crushing of garlic and inventive combining of available herbs. The occasional misfiring might deter my long-suffering family, but it does not deter me!

Yesterday, it was potato, onion, leek and a suggestion of parsnip, with smoked bacon and rosemary. Quite usefully warming post-rugby fare for a frosty day, and a resounding success with three out of four soup-eaters who expressed a preference. (And since the fourth is notorious for not liking anything that isn't coco-pops, fruit pastilles or spiral pasta with pesto, her gastronomic opinion is rarely given credence.)

December's Soup of the Month from NCGSC, incidentally, is Chicken, Vegetable and Pearl Barley a charity fundraiser for the Salvation Army’s Resettlement Centre programme.

From Heinz Cream of Tomato to pheasant with sweet potato and juniper berries, I am heartily convinced that there's a soup to cure most of life's ills (with the notable exception of Jerusalem artichoke, which gave me the worst stomach ache I have ever, ever endured). And that's not only true on Planet Earth, either . . .

'He's had a Very Hard Day. What he needs is a Mug of Soup!'

Calling all Mersea Cooks and Socialites!

Do you have a passion for cooking? Would you like to appear on telly and win a cash prize?!

The hugely successful Channel 4 programme Come Dine With Me is looking for people on or near Mersea Island, who have a keen interest in food and cooking, to take part in a new, prime-time series, which will give them an opportunity to demonstrate their culinary skills to a wide audience.

Over four days, four islanders, from all walks of life, will take turns to host the perfect dinner party for each other other. At the end of the week, the most impressive host will win a £1,000 cash prize, and the highlights will be broadcast on Channel 4.

If you are over 18 and are interested in taking part, then please call and leave your name and number asap (and before 12 December) on: 0871 200 3939* or email comedinewithme@granadamedia.com.

For further information, or if you might be able to display a poster publicising this opportunity, drop me a line or leave a comment here.

I will post news of who's going to be appearing the show nearer the time of broadcast next year. It could be a lot of fun!

* Calls cost 10p per minute from a BT landline. Mobile and other network rates may be higher.)

Edinburgh in October

This is plainly ridiculous, but . . .

For the sake of completeness, here's a short post about the remainder of my day in Edinburgh six weeks ago! There's nothing like running a little behind with one's blog.

At the opposite end of Bruntsfield Place from Halibut & Herring, resides The Children's Bookshop - home of Fidra Books and brainchild of Vanessa of the Fidra Blog ("The ramblings of a book-lover who created her dream job… ").

How very nice it was to have the chance to pop in and say 'hi' to Vanessa (above left) and some of her team - and, of course to choose a book each for the SDs. And these are the books which, with Vanessa's expert assistance, I posted home to the tribe:

After a quick but very welcome cup of coffee, I dashed across the road and hopped on a bus for my next destination, Princes Street, and thence to the Best Bar in Edinburgh. Where I enjoyed a surprise lunch (and a Guinness, naturally) with a very dear friend.

Apart from the wonderful decor, what I love about this place is that if you order a sandwich, what arrives at the table is a sandwich with salad and chips! Brilliant.

After that, it was tea at The Dome , which was already, in mid-October, lavishly decorated for Christmas.

I'm not a big fan of early decorations, but these were so unbelievably splendid that I let them off. By now, there will be a lofty Christmas tree rising up into the dome itself.

I have never in my life taken a photograph in a public (or indeed any other kind, come to think of it) lavatory, but the ladies' loos at The Dome are so sumptuous as to necessitate the quick snap above (bit blurry, but you get the general idea, and it's not minimalist).

My whirlwind day-trip ended, emotionally for me, at the National Gallery of Scotland , a stroll through the Princes Street Gardens, and back to Waverley Station for my return trip to Berwick.
A day I shall remember always.

Friday Interview - James and Maggie Weaver of the ArtCafé, West Mersea and Colchester

The subjects of today's Friday Interview are James and Maggie Weaver, proprietors of two local ArtCafés - one on Mersea, the other in Colchester.

I visited the West Mersea ArtCafé earlier today, in order to chat to James and Maggie about their passion for food, art and coffee, while Jonathan took many of the pictures which appear below. And then I made the most of the opportunity to sink into a squishy sofa and drink a latte, while reading the morning's papers and enjoying the artwork on display: a very pleasant way to occupy a Friday morning!

* James and Maggie, the ArtCafés have such a lovely ambiance – which was your principal inspiration when you started out, the art or the coffee?

J&M: When we set up the first ArtCafé we really just wanted to work together, you could say our principal inspiration was combining what we are both interested in (art and food), into one business. To be honest, we also got fed up with James having to stop painting to drive the ten miles to Colchester just to get a decent cappuccino. As for the lovely ambiance, we think it’s probably the result of us enjoying what we do here.

* You have two choice locations – just opposite the Parish Church in West Mersea and in Colchester’s Trinity Square – was this sheer chance or did you have to wait ages for exactly the right premises to become available?

J&M: Our first location at Mersea was a real piece of good fortune, but we’d had our eye on the Colchester premises in Trinity Street for a few years. The café/gallery came about as the result of a chance meeting, at an exhibition of James’s paintings, with Simon Butcher and Annette Bell, in which we’d discussed our idea to find a waterfront studio/gallery. Briggs Art and Bookshop (as it was called at the time) became available and so we decided to put our search for a waterfront location for a gallery on the back burner and put all our energy into this new venture. We’ve been delighted with the success of this first business and it’s reassuring to us that people like our real homemade food and original art formula.

After four years we felt brave enough to take on the Trinity Street premises in the centre of Colchester when it became available, having been an antiques business for some twenty years. We laboured for three really cold winter months on this ancient building to make it ours and at Easter 2007 we opened the second ArtCafé.

* You seem to be constantly busy, serving breakfasts from 9.00 in the morning, then lunches, and then teas until 5.00pm, seven days a week.

J&M: Yes, constantly busy, that’s us! We’re open seven days a week in West Mersea and six days a week in Colchester, doing breakfast 9-11am, lunch 11am-3pm, and afternoon teas 3-5pm.

* Maggie, has cooking has been a lifelong passion?

M: I have been in the catering/hospitality business for thirty years now, starting out in North Cornwall ant the age of 21, with no previous experience or training. I worked with my sister in the hotel we had bought, figuring that, even with no experience, we had to be able to do better than the offered menu of tinned ravioli on toast amongst other ‘delights’ … it was a very steep and at times disastrous learning curve. It was called ‘The Trebarwith Strand Hotel’ and, with our restaurant ‘The House on the Strand’, was after a few years a very successful business.

Upon moving to Essex, I was chef at The Whalebone in Fingringhoe for seven years where, with my boss and friend Viv Steed, we created a great and popular place to eat. Now with the ArtCafés I’ve discovered that my passion is giving people real, not ‘mass-produced’, food in a relaxed atmosphere’ - definitely café not ‘caff’ but not quite a restaurant … yet!

* What are the top favourite items on your current menu?

M: My favourite thing on the menu at the moment is Toasted Chili Bread, spicy and delicious and so very simple.

J: My favourite is Liver and Bacon on Crispy Bubble and Squeak with a Rich Gravy and Seasonal Vegetables.

J&M: As for our customers, our Fry-Up is a perennial favourite, with local butcher Arthur Cock’s sausage, free-range egg, bacon, bubble and squeak, mushrooms and tomato.


We do our best to use local suppliers wherever possible and really do make almost everything on the menu ourselves.

* Are your famously delicious cakes baked to secret recipes or are you prepared to share one of them with us here?

M: When asked this question by customers, as we often are for our recipes, we’re usually guarded and will reply 'if we tell you we’ll have to shoot you!'. However, we’d like to share just one with Musings readers. So, here is Maggie’s Victoria Sponge Recipe:

This is the easiest recipe ever, and makes either one stonking great sponge or, if you split each layer, it makes two.

Grease two 9-inch, deep-ish round tins

Oven 180C / G4 10oz Butter (softened)

10oz Caster sugar

10oz Self-raising flour

2 tsp Baking powder

5 Eggs

1 tsp Vanilla essence

1. Put all the ingredients in a bowl together and, using an electric mixer, beat the living daylights out of it until it is nice and loose.

2. Divide between the two tins.

3. Pop into the oven for about 35-40 minutes.

4. Do not open the oven (even for a peek) during this time or it will sink.

5. Fill with whipped double cream and strawberry jam.

* Tell us about some of the artists whose work is featured in the ArtCafés at the moment

J: We have lots of interesting artists exhibiting worth a mention here, most are local to us, but not all. We have quite a stock of lovely etchings by Elizabeth Morris, a fellow Mersea artist and printmaker, whose work beautifully reflects the environments of both Mersea Island and Heir Island in West Cork.

We have another Mersea artist, Audrey Davy, whose atmospheric pastel seascapes, saltmarsh, and east coast sailing boats paintings are proving very popular.

There’s David Britton’s oil paintings too,

and prints and cards by Leafy Dumas, two more artists who live and work on the island.

There’s myself of course!

And from farther afield we have some etchings and woodcuts by Anita Klein, whose work is now becoming very collectible indeed,

and Melanie Wickham from Bristol, whose lino-cut prints and designs made us both smile the moment we saw them.

* But it’s not only paintings that you sell, is it?

J: From the outset we wanted to sell a wide variety of work with a strong emphasis on the hand made and local. This currently includes jewellery, glass, ceramics, driftwood sculpture and some photography as well as painting, of course.

Pru Green, a Wivenhoe ceramicist has her colourful and sought-after pots, mugs, cups, bowls and jugs on sale with us.

Julie Pettitt from Colchester designs and makes quirky and unique pieces in porcelain.

In addition, we stock a wide range of greetings cards and quite a few local interest books.

Those worthy of special mention are the range we have from Jardine Press in Wivenhoe.

I also have to plug my Mum’s book here - From When I Can Remember, her memoir of growing up on Mersea Island.

Something we’d really like to do in the future at the ArtCafé is hold exhibitions highlighting the work of just one or two artists at a time, with a preview evening with all the trimmings.

Ever since we first opened our doors, we’ve wanted to showcase artists who both live and work on Mersea Island (in fact we think there’s potential to start some sort of guild or group around this idea).

Another strand we’ve begun to work on is an online gallery/shop as part of our website, where a lot of the work we exhibit will soon be available to view and purchase online.

* And of course, as you've mentioned, you are an artist in your own right, James. How long have you been painting?

J: I’ve loved painting and drawing since childhood and after leaving school I went to the Colchester School of Art for four years. I actually studied graphic design and not painting, gaining membership to the (then) Society of Industrial Artists and Designers, and I worked in graphic design for about ten years.

When we moved back to Essex, I decided to paint seriously full time, supplementing this with other part-time work which afforded me the time to experiment and develop. Our children were small then and I had no studio, so after breakfast and the ‘school run’, I’d clear the breakfast things and the kitchen table became my studio until home time.

* Beach huts seem to be a recurring theme!

J: I had no idea at the outset that I’d be using beach huts as a subject for so much of my work. I was drawing and painting a lot of the boats and saltmarsh around our island at the time and the beach and beach huts (of which we have hundreds) increasingly began to fascinate me.

These modest pieces of seaside architecture are so very colourful and quintessentially British, and from the waterline here seem to stretch for miles and miles. The foreshore is littered with colourful shells and shingle which I find visually stimulating, and dissected by groynes at intervals that naturally lead the eye up the beach … all of which I find a joy to paint, especially in watercolour.

* Do you have a studio now?

J: Yes, I’m now fortunate enough to have a lovely little studio at the end of our garden. It’s separate from the house, which I feel is important, as well as being warm and dry.

It’s actually a ‘fancy shed' bought from the proceeds of an exhibition a few years ago, with larger windows than your average garden shed and also has electricity to it, so it’s quite cosy in the winter months and, unlike the kitchen table, allows me to work on several pieces simultaneously.

* James, you were born and brought up on Mersea, weren't you?

J: Yes, I was born on the island, at home, in Victory Road, probably one of the last few, and can trace my ancestors back here several hundred years. I had a very happy childhood, with summers mucking around the muddy creeks in boats and playing on the beach. When referring to Mersea, I can genuinely use the old cliché: 'I remember when all this was fields'!

During my late teens and early twenties, like many young people living in small communities, I became a bit disenchanted with the place and took myself off to Cornwall and there Maggie and I met and married at Trebarwith Strand, on the rugged north coast. We lived there for about five years before returning to live in Langenhoe in 1991 and then in 1999 I brought my family back home to Mersea Island.

* So, Maggie, how do you enjoy living on Mersea Island? - it's a far cry from the Cornish coast!

M: When we moved from Cornwall with our three young children I felt quite unable to appreciate that there was anything attractive about Mersea Island. Where we’d moved from was either rough seas and wild weather or a beautiful tranquil mile long sandy beach. In contrast, the tide here seemed to just slide in and then slide away again.

Then we moved onto the island and I gradually noticed the beauty of the birds, huge skies, sunsets and even the mud, having its own shiny charm! Since opening the ArtCafé I have really started to feel at home here and love the community life. It’s quite different for me to live in a place where everyone knows each other.

* Finally, what are your future plans for the ArtCafés?

J&M: There are things we’d really like to do to expand the ArtCafés, but for the immediate future we are going to get our online gallery/shop up and running, organise our Winter and Spring menus and, for 2009, plan some exhibitions of selected artists.

Most important for us will be maintaining our homemade, handmade, local-as-possible ethos.

My thanks to James and Maggie for taking time out from their busy ArtCafé lives to talk to me, and to staff-members Jess, Will and Lee, for so cheerfully putting up with having a camera pointed at them while they were getting on with their work.

You can find the Mersea ArtCafé here and the Colchester ArtCafé here.

Keep an eye on the ArtCafé website for the forthcoming online gallery (I'll post an update here on Musings when it goes live).

Meanwhile, do visit James and Maggie's regularly updated arty/foody/Merseacentric blog, The Artist and the Tartist.

(Thanks also to Jonathan for the fab photos!)