Memories from Chawton House: June

From Jane Austen's family

Hello my friends,

In this series, my father and I compare our memories of Chawton as the seasons change throughout the year, revealing how the same beloved place can hold such different meanings across generations.

June at Chawton House was always full of excitement – it's the month when summer truly arrives, bringing with it family gatherings, wedding bells, and memories that span generations.

As Patron of Jane Austen Regency Week, I spend the final two weeks of June in Chawton and Alton each year, and I've noticed how the weather has settled into a reliable pattern. While June felt unpredictable during my childhood, my last five visits have been blessed with consistently hot, dry days that turn the grass around Jane Austen's House and the whole village a distinctive summer brown – nature's own reminder that we're deep into the season of long days and warm evenings.

Jane Austen’s House in Chawton, last week

This year's June visit was particularly special, as I was there for my brother Paul's wedding to his longtime partner, Susan. After more than thirty years together, two children, and a granddaughter, they finally said "I do" in a beautiful ceremony at Chawton Church. We're accustomed to attending weddings at the beginning of couples' journeys, not after three decades of shared life. There was something especially beautiful about witnessing the deep love between two people who have built their lives together brick by brick, season by season. The ceremony was followed by a reception in the grounds of Chawton House – family parties there are rare treasures these days and always make me nostalgic.

Paul and Susan, with daughter Millie and granddaughter Pea to the right

Being reunited with the cousins I grew up with at Chawton House transported me instantly back to childhood. Before the wedding, I found myself with a soft brush in hand, gently cleaning the Knight family graves in the churchyard – removing grass and loose debris from the surrounding trees, just as my cousin and I had done forty years ago. Every summer of our childhood, we'd carefully brush the stone headstones and wash the marble ones with cloths and buckets of water, tending to our ancestors with the utmost respect.

Mrs Austen and Cassandra Austen’s graves, in the churchyard in front of Chawton House

We never touched Cassandra and Mrs Austen's graves, though – the cracked stonework and broken mortar looked like ancient fingers emerging from the earth, and we were convinced we shouldn't disturb whatever spirits might be resting there. We used to dare each other to camp overnight in the churchyard, but never quite summoned the courage. Like many parts of Chawton House and the estate, it was wonderfully atmospheric by day but decidedly spooky after dark!

While Granny's tearoom in the Great Hall had opened in April or May, June marked the true beginning of the busy summer season. The village noticeably came alive with visitors to Jane Austen's House, and the cricket season was in full swing. Alongside my weekend duties in the tearoom, I helped Granny prepare teas for the cricket teams – endless rounds of sandwiches, cakes, and scones. English sandwiches in the 1970s and 80s were rather sorry affairs by today's standards – just a slice of ham or a dollop of egg mayonnaise between two pieces of bread. I remember once suggesting we add some salad to the ham sandwiches, only to receive a look from Granny that made it clear she considered the idea utterly preposterous!

Dad and Granny in the Great Hall, the home of Granny’s tearoom.

My June memories differ greatly from Dad's, shaped as they were by our twenty-six-year age gap and very different childhoods. Dad grew up at Chawton House in the 1940s and 50s, spent his Junes away at boarding school, and later as an adult raised his own family there. His perspective on our ancestral home spans both childhood wonder and adult responsibility – a unique vantage point that only deepens our family's collective memory of this remarkable place.