Cooking up something at the Red House

In August 2021, I joined five other creatives at the Red House in Aldeburgh, where we were hosted by Chris and Lucy of Wild Plum Arts.

I had already heard great things about their residencies from others who had worked with them before, and liked what I’d seen on their social media and what that suggested about their sense of humour (great) and cooking and baking skills (beautiful). And I had been lucky to do a week-long Red House residency before (in 2019 as part of the National Youth Choirs of Great Britain’s Young Composer scheme) and knew how creatively beneficial I’d found that experience.

But after a very strange year or so, and in many ways a very lonely year or so, the week we spent together ended up being an especially warm, companionable, calming, fun, refreshing time.

Chris and Lucy are incredible hosts – kind and attentive, but somehow at the same time easily hands-off when appropriate, full of interesting and funny stories, and good at encouraging everyone to join in conversations in a natural way. Their cooking is also incredible, to say nothing of their baking and sense of presentation. As a mostly "so long as it’s on the plate, we’re good” sort of cook, I found the touches of prettiness and thought Lucy especially added to everything just lovely.

On the first evening, we shared our first meal together and got to know each other, which set the tone for the week. We were four composers and two writers working on a really impressively diverse set of projects – from projects for children to a project very much not for children. As ever, I was reminded of how much we all have in common and how lovely it is to share stories and laughs with other creatives. Our evening meals were the highlight of my days and I looked forward to seeing everyone and chatting, sharing anecdotes of everyone’s day.

The beautiful afternoon sunlight coming through the window and door and dancing on the living room floor in Imogen Holst’s house in Church Walk, Aldeburgh

I was staying in Imogen Holst’s house, in Church Walk in Aldeburgh and a c. 20-minute walk from the Red House. The period furnishings and decor are so charming, and I quickly fell in love with the layout of the bungalow. It felt roomy but also cosy and full of natural light. Butterflies, grasshoppers, and birds all visited on the other side of the enormous living room window in the summer sunshine. The sound system in the living room and well-stocked shelf of CDs even inspired me to sit on the sofa with a cup of tea and just listen to some albums through – something (‘listening to music’) I have found oddly off-putting at times in the past couple of years and have often struggled to do. That in itself was a very unexpected pleasure.

Pictures of Imogen (“Imo”) in that very house adorn the walls, her smile beaming out at you in all sorts of places. As I wandered about, looking at the pictures and trying to pick out the details to compare to the space I was in now, I couldn’t help but start to feel close to this impressive woman although of course I didn’t really know her.

Chris and Lucy arranged for us to have sessions working in the library, on Britten’s own Steinway grand piano. Initially I thought that idea was far too daunting and hesitated over even signing up, but knew I’d regret not giving it a go. In the end, I found it very inspiring – funnily enough, Britten knew what he was talking about in his piano specifications and ensured a creatively nourishing sound. The resonance was sparkly and immediately the beginnings of ideas I’d started the previous day, but wasn’t sure about, clicked into place and the whole piece was done in about an hour. I left the room buzzing in a way I’d not felt for a long time.

We were also treated to a tour of the Red House one evening by Lucy Walker, who told the stories very engagingly and answered all our questions. It was amazing to reflect on the legacy of Britten and Pears, and all the musicians and artists who were able to work thanks to their financial and creative support.

The view over Aldeburgh down the town steps on a sunny morning

Being honest, my working schedule that week wasn’t quite as rigorous as I’d planned. For a couple of afternoons, my lunch break morphed into the afternoon session beyond whilst I remained sat in the sun, listening to the radio or reading a book and continuing my cup of tea. (Did I mention the tea? The joy of a large teapot meant there were scant minutes that week where I wasn’t nursing a cup.) The peace and quiet was so soothing. At home, I’d got stuck into patterns of constantly busying my mind with an article or podcast or email or or or, and often several at the same time, taking none of them in properly. I was also in the habit of not putting anything down mentally, meaning all the different strands of my working life (including my Dorico documentation work, since I was still working from home) felt like they were always ‘on’ and rattling around.

So instead, I sat in the sun, drank tea, and looked out the window. Or popped down to the beach for a swim – which I did twice, and enjoyed very much; the swimming part greatly, the getting-out-up-the-slope-on-the-shingle-with-bare-feet part less so.

And funnily enough, somehow the music still came. It still needed some brute force in moments, plugging away at the piano keys, but bit by bit my short song cycle for children’s voices took shape. Encouragement from the librettist Laura Attridge during the week certainly helped too!

On our last full day, as I found myself behind my schedule, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and headed off for a post-lunch walk to the Martello Tower (fuelled by the calamari roll I’d enjoyed on the beach with Ben Gaunt) in hopes that the walking song I yet needed to write would start to come to me on the way. Lucky me, and thanks to the perfectly-formed rhythm in Laura’s poem, the vocal part was more-or-less sorted before I even got there. Not wanting to lose the moment, I perched on the grassy slope overlooking the marshes to record a voice note that I could send to Laura – now a fixture of our creative process.

The view to the west of the Martello Tower, over the estuary and marshes and beautiful sun streaks being cast down through the clouds

In short, my MADE AT THE RED HOUSE retreat in Aldeburgh was a real treat for the soul – creative and otherwise. I loved the walks to and from the Red House, as it got me stretching my legs and my mind, and treated me to some incredible sounds (including crickets buzzing in the hedgerows), sights (including a badger crossing the road), and clear stretches of time purely to myself as beyond walking, there was nothing else I could reasonably be doing. I loved the company of the others, Chris, Lucy, and the guests that occasionally joined us. I loved the quiet solitude of the days with the promise of laughs later. I loved the food, and the generosity of being fed. I loved the teapot, cups and saucers in Church Walk. I loved the sound system for its clear offer to play music. I loved the bright natural light and open layout of Church Walk. I loved munching fish and chips on the beach. And I loved having a span of time with one primary goal, to work on one work, with implicit permission to leave everything to the side.

Thank you once again, Chris and Lucy, for all your care and preparation. And to the Red House and Britten Pears Arts for the spaces and access to your facilities.

The gorgeous sunset we were treated to whilst we ate our fish and chips on Aldeburgh beach