Friday, May 15, 2026

My Father, Pembroke College, Oxford,1937-1940


The following notes by my father, 
John Renouf, are his recollections of life as a student at 
Oxford prior to the Second World War.
These were written in 1987, 
fifty years after he began his studies at Pembroke College, 
where he read for a law degree.



John Renouf,
Pembroke College, Oxford 1937-1940


Admittance to Oxford


I received a King Charles 1 scholarship, open to Channel Islanders (male) whether at school in the Channel Islands or not. The scholarship which was available to Pembroke, Exeter and Jesus Colleges, Oxford, was instituted by Archbishop Laud (1583-1645) in an effort to educate islanders away from Calvinism into the Anglican faith. The scholarships and exhibitions were allocated (3-6 a year) after an exam in the student's subjects held in Jersey and Guernsey. The choice of college, (Pembroke, where I read for a law degree) was left to the examining board with no chance for the student stating a preference. 


Pembroke College Daily Life

The day started with the sounds of the scout laying the fire, (most of the year, at any rate), and setting things out for breakfast. Basic foods such as bread, butter, cereal were kept in the sideboard. Ablutions took place in washbasins, (cold water in a jug), all emptied into a slop pail. 

If hot breakfast was required this was ordered the night before and served by the scout - quite often a group on the same staircase shared this meal for convenience and conviviality. 

Roll call or chapel was compulsory a number of days per week. 

All lectures were delivered in the morning, (in my case all at different colleges because no lecturers or tutors in jurisprudence were in college). The afternoons were free and mostly occupied with sports (see below). Occasionally a tutorial was arranged for late afternoon.

Tea was usually the social highlight of the day. Tea was made in rooms, the kettle being boiled on the fire - electric kettles were unheard of. Usually toast, with honey or gentleman's relish (Patum) and cakes were ordered from the scout's pantry. Usually some work was indulged in after tea until dinner in hall. A minimum number of dinners had to be attended but as this was the cheapest way of eating, this was no hardship. Special tables were allocated to scholars in order of years along the east side of the hall. Grace was recited by C of E scholars in turn. (I as an RC never said grace.) Dinner was three courses served by long-suffering scouts, (who presumably were available from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m.), while on Sundays a fourth course (a savoury) was served. Beer was available in 1/2 or 1 pint silver pots. 

'Sconcing', or payment of a fine for a social error, consisted of paying for a 2 quart sconce pot of beer to be consumed by the table of the one proposing the sconce - unless the culprit was prepared to consume the 2 quarts at a draught when the sconcer would be obliged to pay. Normally sconcing was only indulged in on more festive occasions. After dinner one might adjourn to the JCR for a port and nuts before departing to work or attendance at club or social activities. The gate was closed at 9 p.m. but entrance could be gained until midnight. If an excess of late entries, as recorded by the porter, was noted by the Dean a reprimand or even a gating was delivered. If the evening was spent in work or other in-college activities, it usually terminated in a get-together with others over tea until bedtime. 




The J.C.R.

My recollection is that this place was chiefly a reading room and after-dinner club room. It was not the centre of most people's activities. The daily papers were supplied. The furnishings were chiefly old sofas and chairs, though efforts were made to improve the relevance of the rooms.


Sport

Sport was of great influence in most people's life. I took up rowing, the centre of activity for five days a week. Every afternoon irrespective of weather, the rowers of all grades foregathered after a walk, (in rowing togs), through Christ Church meadow, to  the college barges. Thence, the senior crews were usually ferried to the boat house on the Right bank to pick up their boat. 

Instruction to beginners was given in "tubs" - wide heavy training boats with fixed seats, with instructor coxswain. A time at this kind of rowing - (mostly in the Cherwell) - prepared the embryonic crews for the torpid eights heavy boats in the Hilary term. Thence to the "shells" in the Trinity term culminating in Eights week.



On the Isis, with rowing team members, 1938




The exercise concluded with the daily bath, overseen by the bath scout, who saw to it that no one overstayed his welcome in the tub and that hot water was available for all. This was quite a social occasion as conversations could be carried on between the cubicles. 

I think that rowing was taken more seriously than other sports and the rugby and soccer people were not under such a rigorous timetable.

At any rate the result was that our 1st and 2nd eights did very well in 1938 and '39.





Tutorials

Our law tutor was Mr. Davidge at Keble. He was reputed to have been chosen as a nephew or protégé of Holmes Dudden the Master of Pembroke College. Actually tutorials were usually only weekly occasions and all of each year reading law were taken in a group. One sat around in the study being quizzed on the essay subject submitted the previous week. Collections (mock examinations) were held a couple of times a term. In retrospect it seems that by no means the brightest lights of the college were law students and that instruction was perforce geared to the needs of the lowest. In my last year when I was alone in law, all the others having gone in the first year of the war, I benefitted much more from tutorials taken one to one. Those reading Greats,(Greek and Roman History, Philosophy and Literature), among my acquaintances, seemed to derive much greater benefit from the tutorial system.

Social Life

For most of my contemporaries, "social life" was very basic, because of financial stringency. The highlights were sherry parties, the occasional dinner with old school people at other colleges and, of course, beer drinking parties at "safe" pubs and in college - always associated with sporting events. As to alcohol, beer, sherry and port after dinner were the staples. Spirits were non-existent. 

For me, the Labour Club and the French Club were the main attractions out of college. For a small number the Union was popular. After Munich (Munich Agreement 30 September 1938) the University by-election with Lindsay, the Master of Balliol College, and Quintin Hogg as his Conservative rival produced  a lot of enthusiasm. Hogg was elected.

I joined the Labour Club more from curiosity than from political commitment. I recall talks by the Dean of Canterbury (known as "The Red Dean" as a prominent supporter of the Soviet Union) and G.D.H. Cole (English political theorist, economist and historian) in my first and second years. Members were addressed as "comrade" and the atmosphere was that of the far left. My recollection is that the Club's activities in 1939-40 were much diminished and I cannot recall attending any meetings.

I had to survive on about £100. a year, (after my scholarship of £100.). I recall winning a prize of under £2 at a dinner and rejoicing that I would be able to fly by plane to Jersey for the vacation. 

Among extra expenses were four dinners per term at the Middle Temple (Middle Temple, London, one of the four Inns of Court entitled to call their members to the English Bar as barristers), travelling usually with G.D.P. Gurney on the 4:30 train and returning on the 10:30. This dinner was 2/6 (2 shillings and sixpence) including wine and the fare was 4/- return. This provided a pleasant break but the Dean's permission had to be obtained.

Relations between the sexes were practically non-existent except at sherry parties and tea parties.

Relations between junior and senior members were restricted to sporting life, chiefly because of the rigid segregation in Hall. Class conflict was absent. but those from upper Public schools were mostly monied and carried on a somewhat different way of life.

Apart from tutorials, relations with senior dons consisted of the termly breakfasts (buttered eggs and sausages) with the Vicegerent (H.L. Drake), the bursar (L. Salt) and with the Master and his wife (Mr. and Mrs. Holmes Dudden).

The outbreak of WW2 coincided with my going out to live in lodgings. All meals were also eaten in lodgings but I was lucky - my landlady was a superb cook! I do not recall any warlike activity in Oxford until 1940. My finals (June 1940) were written at the New Bodleian Library under a pall of black smoke drifting over from Dunkirk.


A sample of my father's notes.


Religion

As a Roman Catholic, I attended Sunday mass at the Old Palace (Bishop King's Palace, Catholic Chaplaincy for the University of Oxford). I have distinct memories of the get-together before mass with Monsignor R Knox ("Ronnie" Knox) greeting all with a carton of good quality cigarettes in his hand. Mass was usually said by Fr. Matthews and the sermon preached by Fr. Knox. Another social occasion was dinner with Fr. Knox once or twice a year, usually attended by one or more of his lodgers such as Lord Oxford (Earl of Oxford and Asquith, Julian Asquith).

I cannot recall any anti-Catholic prejudice or being cut off in any way from other undergraduates. It occurs to me that there was little religious commitment shown by the majority: e.g. roll call was substituted for morning chapel by a large number. Mind you, I had been educated at "Protestant" schools in London (Colet Court) and Jersey (Victoria College) so that from an early age I was accustomed to the segregation idea at prayers, although my parents insisted that I attend the school prayers, (this being frowned upon by the RC authorities at the time). But when I came up to Oxford, I withdrew from the religious establishment college activities.

Examinations

As a Channel Islander I was exempt from National Service in the U.K. and as I wished to join the Royal Navy, which was not accepting volunteer recruits at that time, I came up for my third year. Much abbreviated exams were held at the end of each term and I sat for these in December '39 and March '40, thereby earning my degree. As I was still waiting for acceptance in June '40, I was persuaded to sit for the regular finals by my tutor on the off chance that I would get a good class. Alas I obtained a 3rd in jurisprudence. My finals result in "The Times" coincided with my call up into the navy and its impact was pretty muted in light of the events of 1940.

***


Five years later...

Lieutenant Commander John Renouf, RN (left) 
The Liberation of the Channel Islands
St. Helier, Jersey
9 May 1945




Wednesday, April 1, 2026

High School Redux

Anne Renouf    Senator O'Connor College School    1969 - 1974


Recently, I listened to the album 'Tea for the Tillerman' by Cat Stevens, (1970), in its entirety, for what was probably the first time in fifty years. I was in the kitchen, cooking, and surprised myself by singing lyrics, unsung by me for almost that long. 

It was the album of that year,
known by every one of my classmates. 

We were Grade Ten students, thrown together from various parts of suburban Toronto and small communities north of Toronto, in a relatively new Catholic high school, 

Senator O'Connor College School.

The school was distinct in a number of ways. Built on land donated by Senator Frank O'Connor to the De La Salle Christian Brothers, (in the Parkwoods neighbourhood of North York), the school buildings surrounded the striking Brother's House, (the former home of the Senator), with the J.J. Lynch building to the east, and the O'Connor building to the west. 
While the Lynch building was standard 1960's school style, the O'Connor building was avant-garde, designed in a hexagon by Fisher Tedman Architects. I'm not sure we fully appreciated the building's beauty at the time, with its quirky angled staircases and oddly shaped rooms, but the erratic hallways made for amazing games of hide and seek, and hidden corners to slip away into, unseen.


The Christian Brothers, and nuns of the Daughters of Wisdom held various teaching posts in this ground-breaking co-ed Catholic school, as well as many lay teachers, (including former brothers and nuns). I still think of a number of teachers from the early '70's with huge fondness - Marg Gardonio, Hugh McShane, Brother Walter, Sister Anita, Harold Brathwaite, Phil Small, Theresa Duffy.

It wasn't just the building or the staff, though these were pretty great. 
There was a strong emphasis on academics, and not just learning facts and figures, 
but developing critical thinking skills, strengthening self-confidence, experiential learning, and teamwork.
My strongest recollections of that teamwork was a distinct camaraderie in Grade Ten. 
Friendships, yes, but also trust, loyalty, 
love.

Now, fifty-six years later, I listen to Cat Stevens, and it all comes back. The melodies, the lyrics, the tight friends I was with when listening to them - all of that - but also, who I was as a person, where I was headed, and what an extraordinarily good education we all received.

*

Some months ago, I picked up one of our grand-boys after an exam at his school in Peterborough,
 to shuttle him home. (We had some good chats on those half-hour drives.) This time I mentioned that Grade Ten, for me, had been the best.
"Why?" he shot back, curious. "What made it so great?"

"It was the sense of belonging", I told him. "We were all part of something."

As I thought about this, I could picture my classmates - the school musical, sports, the fund-raisers, the 'Miles for Millions' walkathon, the hockey pools, the class trips,
the singing and guitars in the beautiful school chapel.

Primarily though, the sense of belonging was in the classes themselves, some boring, yes, but nevertheless, 
ours,
a shared experience by the same twenty-five tight friends of 10D, 
all navigating being fifteen-year-olds.
Together.




Five friends - Senator O'Connor College School - 1969-1974











Friday, March 20, 2026

'Weather Diary' at Twenty








Weather Diary 


Twenty years ago, in the Spring of 2006,

I had the opportunity to travel to 

Ocracoke Island off the coast of North Carolina,

 to live and work at my art.

(This ‘Artist Residency’ was actually a 

50th birthday gift from my husband Doug Brown, 

the only one who knew of my desire to become a 

hermit in order to produce some new work.)

I wanted to focus on drawing, using materials I

 hadn't used in a while -

primarily oil pastels, watercolour pencils, chalks and

 graphite.

I set off on my month-long pilgrimage with these 

materials and lots of drawing surfaces.


It is a seventeen hour drive from Peterborough 

Ontario to Ocracoke NC.

 I was to live in a cottage, (sight unseen), in 

Ocracoke Village,

 just me and our three-year-old black lab, Chester.


It wasn't long before I fell into the rhythm of island life. 

I wanted solitude so as to work without distraction. 

Yes, I had that.


And I wanted the sea.


Whatever was happening with regard to my artwork

 and the weather, 

each day included a long ramble on the glorious 

Ocracoke Island beach, the wide open 

Atlantic-facing expanse of bliss. 

This daily beach walk led to the creation of a 

series of works entitled 'Weather Diary', 

one-a-day drawings infused by the sea, sand, 

dunes and wild moody skies - the elements -

 that found their way into me.


You can view the art,

and read about my 'Weather Diary' pilgrimage

 here:

 annerenouf.blogspot.ca













 











                                 



































Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Creatures We've Had In Our House

 

CREATURES
WE'VE
HAD 
IN
OUR
HOUSE
Living for fifteen years in an energy efficient home 
overlooking a wetland,
(in Otonabee-South Monaghan Township, 
Peterborough County, Ontario), 
we are definitely what you would call 
'off the beaten track'. 
What we love most about living here is the wetland 
and woodland wildlife, 
seen almost daily.
Occasionally, some of these make it into the house.
Here is my list of those who have crossed our 
threshold...(so far):

HUMANS - many

Mostly invited, these are humans other than 
the two of us who inhabit this space. 
Family get-togethers, dinner parties, Cinq-à-Sept, 
Studio Tour visitors, Art Days, 
drop-ins saying hello, 
those asking advice, giving advise, 
coming for a walk in the woods, a workshop, 
a cup of tea, a beer -
all fairly regular events.
DOGS - 5+

Chester, our forever dog, 
Best friend Fido, 
Granddogs Burley, Momo and Sully,
Rex and Toby (regulars),

and perhaps a dozen other dog visitors, (not all at once).



 CATS – 4

Larry the Cat, long-time resident,  
Gertie, who died at 22, known as ‘The Biting Cat' by the grandhumans, 
Grandcat Milo, 
and one feral cat, a longtime nocturnal visitor, via cat-flap.


 
BABY BUNNIES - 1

Brought in, very much alive, by Larry the Cat.



BIRDS - 3

Wild birds, each time, when the door was inadvertently left open. 
In October 2024, a chickadee spent an hour in our rafters, 
trying to find a way out of our clerestory windows. 
Her feet eventually, (and embarrassingly), 
became entangled in cobwebs, and I was able to climb a ladder 
and scoop her up, remove the tangle of webs, 
and let her go. Outdoors.
Happy ending.



TURTLES - 1 

A snapper, (Methuselah), right up to the threshold, but not I suppose, technically, in.



RACCOONS - 1 

Caught dragging a bag of birdseed to the cat-flap in the middle of the night.



MICE – lots



INSECTS - 1,000s

A note on insects…
I'm wondering if anyone else has had a pet wasp.
Yes, a wasp.
We once had a rather dopey, partially hibernating (queen?) wasp living in our house through the winter. We occasionally placed small saucers of water or (un)frozen blueberries or blueberry juice near her, and she (we think) nearly overdosed, judging by the amount of time she spent perched on a blueberry.
Her life ended tragically that March. 
After biting the hand that feeds her, (mine, actually my leg), contrary to popular opinion, she did not die, at least not right away, living for about another week.
Rest in peace, Willa. 



TREE FROGS – 4

The first one hopped in during a Studio Tour... a bit of a surprise for him.
The remaining three, (several years later), hopped in on a warm, wet late summer night, and hopped out again (though one took some finding), the following morning.



RED SQUIRRELS - 1 

Ran in, sat up, looked around, ran out, all in about 3.5 seconds.



SPIDERS – Oh, yes. 

(They get a category of their own.)
Specifically, in fact almost exclusively, Pholcidae, (daddy-long-legs).
We have a soft spot around here for daddy-long-legs, which goes back to our years living in the  little cabin in the woods, where we were plagued with mosquitoes from May to August, and loved that daddy-long-legs are purported
to eat them, or suck the juices out of them, or otherwise reduce their numbers. 
Not all of the humans who frequent our home are fans though. 
Our number three grandhuman once exited the bathroom proclaiming,
“I counted eight spiders in there.”     

                                      
I like them.                             
They are sort of the ‘Fred Astaires’ of the arachnid world - graceful, coordinated, quick. 
In typical Canadian fashion, I have apologized to one for inadvertently brushing it aside. 
They have great resilience. They can look crumpled and dead, and on closer inspection, suddenly unfold themselves and stride away.     
All of that, and of course, the mosquito thing.    
  
So they stay.
 
‘Creatures We’ve Had In Our House’ can be regularly updated, (the beauty of lists), depending on who comes in. 
(Latest update: Jan. 2026)
I might add that we’ve had a wide variety of creature visitors who have peered in, scrambled over, and crashed into, while not actually entering the house. 
Perhaps a list for another day, but these include ducks, geese, turkeys, crows, doves, one hawk, (RIP), and last Fall a small herd of teenage calves, (brown, white and cheeky-looking), who made it as close to the house as the patio, two metres from the door. Maybe if they ever show up again, we’ll leave the door open and see what happens…





- Anne Renouf


 
 
 

 



Monday, November 3, 2025

Forever A Franciscan

Photos clockwise:
St Bonaventure Church.    Fr. Briant.    St Bonaventure School.     Me (in blue) in grade 3.

 

I was about eight years old, growing up in the Toronto suburb of Don Mills, when I first met Father Briant Cullinane. 

He was a newly arrived young priest c. 1963, in the Franciscan Parish of St. Bonaventure. My elder sister and I attended St. Bonaventure School, and our family, (seven of us), belonged to the Church community. Father Briant was quite a change for St. Bonaventure - young, smiling, funny - certainly not the sort of priest we were used to. He clearly loved kids, and was a frequent attendee at outdoor recess, his black hooded robes, (the Conventual Franciscan habit), billowing as he walked through the playground, a flock of small children gathered around him. He showed us tricks, (how to catch a dollar bill), told corny jokes, and poked gentle fun. He also taught us to tie the three knots of the rope cincture worn on his robes, (symbolizing a Franciscan's commitment to a life of simplicity and devotion), the knots representing his vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

For us children, he was a light - a mentor, advisor and friend - our own Father O'Malley, (Bing Crosby) in 'Going My Way'. It was soon after his arrival that St. Bonaventure Church organized a girls' softball league, (four teams - Franciscans, Carmelites, Benedictines and Dominicans) and a few years later a girls' basketball team, both of which I participated in. I was too young in the mid-60's for the vibrant St. Bonaventure's CYO, but my older siblings were involved in the organization of dances and the production of a number of plays. 

A few years after his arrival, I was hospitalized in Toronto's 'Sick Kids' with an infection in my knee, the only visitors allowed being my parents. I was feeling pretty low the first day or two post-surgery, when I thought I spotted Father Briant in the hallway outside my hospital room. Not decked out in his usual robes, but black-suited, he came in a few moments later. In my shock and surprise, my first words to him were, "How did you get in here?" Unabashed, he pointed to his dog collar and said, "You've got to be wearing one of these!" 

It was the first of many visits, each ending with a blessing, his hand placed on the top of my head, something which I thought of as his superpower.  Perhaps he sent a lightning bolt of well-being with that blessing, but the love, care and kindness was palpable.

Fr. B was at St. Bonaventure for thirteen years, before leaving us to serve in New Jersey (his home - he never lost his New Jersey accent), then the Archdiocese of Toronto, and North Carolina.

He lived to the age of 94, and while I hadn't seen him in many years, I thought of him often. He was the first person to call me 'Annie', a name which stuck through high school and university. I thought of this the other day, and googling his name, found his obituary. 

He was someone who personified kindness and love, and I will miss him.


                                                                     *


Father Briant, in my recollection, demonstrated what it was to be a true Franciscan - a commitment to simplicity and humility, service to the poor and marginalized, affirmation of the unique worth of each individual, reverence of all creation, living in imitation of Christ, finding joy - in other words, faithful to the original thirteenth century vision of St. Francis and St. Clare. Franciscan beliefs centre on the integration of action and contemplation, through prayer and commitment to social justice. The interconnectedness of all things offers a perspective that inherently transcends denominational boundaries. For me, I suppose, this last point is key - that of Franciscan recognition of the validity of multiple spiritual traditions, as I see myself as an ecumenical believer.

For nearly thirty years, I have belonged to a small rural church community within the United Church of Canada. We have a wonderful woman minister, are an 'Affirming' church community, (welcoming and fully inclusive of people of all sexual orientations and gender identities), and are active in the greater community. You can read about that church community HERE.

My religious life - that is, my time involved in a church community that has affected my outlook, my actions, my prayer, my beliefs - is fairly evenly split between Franciscan Catholicism and (what I'll call) Progressive Christianity. Both come from the same origins, similar prayers, parallel order of service and music tradition. Both emphasize the need to follow the way of Jesus.

While I do miss much of the tradition and ceremony and ritual of the Catholic Church, there is a great deal about it that I have trouble with, still, and do not miss at all. But I hold on to that which is central in living my faith.  I see myself as a follower of  'The Franciscan Way' - a seeker, with a deep respect for our natural surroundings, walking the path of simplicity and compassion, living in joy and peace, and committed to social and environmental justice. This is the cornerstone of my faith, and also defines our way of life here at our home in rural Peterborough County.

And that reminds me that I am forever a Franciscan.


Tuesday, September 23, 2025

Cinq à Sept - The New Dinner Party.


At heart, I'm a grazer.

I'll explain. 
For most of my adult life, hosting a dinner party seemed like the 
acceptable/conventional/easy way of entertaining, 
or returning a social obligation. 
Dinner parties can be fun, (so they tell me), especially if you are:
a) an avid cook
b) a social butterfly
c) relaxed and prepared.

I do like to cook, though perhaps more tepid than avid.
While I have my standard old favourites, I am not averse to 
experimenting with new recipes. 
I am faithful to a number of social media chefs, who, (unrealistically),
make everything look easy and uncomplicated. 
I am a bit of a 'foodie'. 
I lean toward vegetarian dishes, 
though I do eat meat, but could probably live without it 
if it weren't for lamb and bacon.

I'm not exactly a social butterfly.
Luckily, neither is my partner.
We avoid social functions, crowds, parties and indoor gatherings.
We have, (on more than one occasion), driven some distance to a party
only to drive to the house, hesitate, drive past the house 
and hightail it back home.
While we are much better in the great outdoors, we both tend to avoid 
the 'eating' part of whatever the event happens to be, and are much 
happier standing around the fringe, nursing a beer, 
occasionally speaking to the other introverts.

Relaxed and prepared?
'Prepared', maybe, unless you mean mentally. 
'Relaxed', no. Just the opposite.

Perhaps it was the anxiety that I seemed to suffer from more acutely
as I aged, that led me to question dinner parties.
(Kids and grandkids excepted...We love those.)
The whole process seemed daunting - serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres, 
sitting through dinner, pouring wine, dishing up dessert, 
making sparkling conversation. 
And ALL while eating.
This seemed increasingly difficult, mentally and physically.

It was time to rethink the dinner party.

As I say, at heart, I'm a grazer. 
My ideal social gathering involves a bottle of vino, and perhaps four people 
 sitting in an open airy conversation nook
with a low coffee table in the middle,
topped with a selection of tasty nibbles. 
Not 'starters', but the whole enchilada.

'Cinq à Sept' - the new Dinner Party. 

Now, I realize that the origins of Cinq à Sept referred to a tryst 
or an after work drink and/or hors d'oeuvres, in the days when it became A Thing.
And then, off you all went to a proper dinner at about 8 or 9 or 10:00 p.m.
(At least, if you were French or Italian or Spanish.)
But decade after decade, the evening meal has shifted earlier and earlier,
and dinner or supper or tea is now consumed as early as 5:00 p.m. 
This is why Cinq à Sept works so well. 
Not a dinner party. No. 
But a satisfying bit of food, drink, and conversation, 
beginning at 5:00...and ending at 7:00. 
Cinq à Sept. Perfection.

Here's what we do....


'Cinq à Sept'

Find a very large, simple platter or board. 

Place four small ramekins in the centre.

Fill ramekins with your choice of the following:
hummus, baba ghanoush, tzatziki, muhammara (red pepper dip),
tirokafteri (whipped feta dip), 
olives (good ones, mixed, from the deli counter).

Yes. A bit of a Mediterranean slant.

Place cheeses (of your choice) - Brie, Stilton, Boursin, 
Feta, Red Leister - on platter. 
(*take cheese out of fridge at least an hour before serving.)
Drizzle a bit of good olive oil and a sprinkle of 'Herbe de Provence' or
fresh thyme over the hummus and feta.

Add a selection of any or all of the following - tomato wedges, 
cucumber spears, roasted red pepper strips, carrot sticks, 
cocktail onions, cornichons (gherkins), sweet pepper rings, 
grilled aubergine (eggplant), artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, 
figs, dates, apricots, almonds, walnuts -
directly onto the platter.
Want something a little more substantial? 
Add a few spanakopita or dolmades or devilled eggs.

We love to add sliced Italian sausage,
(cooked on the BBQ the night before), 
but you could keep it vegetarian by adding tempeh or vegetarian sausage.

Serve with pita triangles, thin baguette slices, and/or taco chips.

And of course, a lovely bottle of vino.