Our 2010 Trip to EnglandOur TWELFTH TRIP to England together! Lordie, the time flies by. For the first time, we went before the freezing damps of winter had set in, and were delighted to find the place deep in flowers--every where we went, huge baskets and beds of billowing bloom. Another improvement was taking the sensible option of flying during the day, so that we arrived at night, in time to retire gratefully to a small but clean Day's Inn in Hounslow, 15 minutes from Heathrow. Not a bad flight, really, aside from a truly vile meal. But vile airplane meals are of course TRADITIONAL.
As always, we took a TON of pictures. Click here to see them.
 Lie #1 |
Lie #2 |
Lie #3 |
| "We have the best coverage in the south of England!" | "You weren't able to access the network because THE NETWORK WAS DOWN." | "You weren't able to access the network because your iPhone is unlocked." | [They have the WORST coverage in the south of England] | [The network was not down] | [The unlocked iPhone worked fine until day 2] |
For good measure, each lie was delivered in a rich Scottish brogue. The whole business of getting local phone and internet access on these trips is fraught with angst, not to mention screaming vexation. And to those who say, "But HOPE, you're on vacation--for why should you care about such things when you should be lounging at your ease, living the life of Riley?", I respond that to me the life of Riley contains instant and abundant internet access.
As arranged, we drove down to the Royal Oak in Paley Street-a Michelin star restaurant! Paley Street, contrary to what you might think, is a TOWN. Bonnie, our GPS system, was baffled, as were we, but eventually, after 3 phone calls, we made it. We arrived a little before Joy and James, and how wonderful it was to see them walk in the door, glowing and happy. They had spent the night in Maidenhead, and thus had not endured the hours of pre-lunch driving that I feared.
The Royal Oak was stunning--excellent food, excellent drink, and a lovely place to boot.We ate outside, attended by amiable wasps, who kept company without interfering with our good cheer. The sun shone, the people chatted and ate and drank, and it was an amazingly pleasant meal. Perhaps the star of the menu was a winsome little Scotch egg --made with plover's eggs, and somehow magically cooked so that when breached, the golden yolk was still liquid. Artistry indeed!
Afterwards, Bonnie guided us down to Rustington, to 25 Mariners Walk--"You have reached your destination!". And there was the shining sea at the end of the familiar road, and the little cottage awaiting us. Picture page
James presented Lawrence with a late birthday present: BLACK PUDDING.Many people are loving black pudding. As it happens, I am not one of them. However, Lawrence and James regaled themselves with the succulent item. Joy and I made do with eggs and toast. After breakfast, Joy and James had to leave to get back to Manchester, and we set off for lunch with cousin Ian. Ian and Sarah have an absolutely lovely house up a picturesque if rutted and unpaved lane, surrounded by pleasant grounds. Their lucky cats dine on fresh free range rabbit most days, it appears. We had a long and agreeable lunch (lamb, not rabbit) and then made our way back to Rustington.
The one thing we had promised ourselves was to visit a public garden--all closed during our normal wintry visits. So, we spent a lovely morning at the Highdown gardens, a winsome confection of green and bloom created in what had been a chalk pit overlooking the downs of Sussex.The creator of this charming place, Sir Frederick Stern, acquired many unusual plants from China and the Himalayas and somehow persuaded them to thrive in the downs. There was a thrilling secret cave pond, all planted about with vines--that apparently had started out as a pig pen. What a transformation was there! Here is the link to the garden's not very worthy website. The garden is bounded by the boundless downs--up, up, to the top of the hill, from which you can see for miles and miles, even to the ocean on a clear day.
City of Dreaming Spires
After our week in the cottage in Rustington, we drove up to Oxford for the weekend. What a beautiful town, all ancient carved stone buildings, ornamented with gargoyles, pierced with mysterious dark passages opening to brilliant emerald vistas of lawn and garden.PARKING is not a concept that has much following in Oxford. Cars, we spit in their general direction. But it is a walking town, after all. We took a tour of some colleges, but mostly spent the time in the Ashmolean--what a museum! Everything, from stone age flints to a Stradivarius, all tucked into the most elegant of buildings (with of course the obligatory obtrusive and completely out of character blankly staring New Section, a pimple on the divine countenance).
An exciting part of our visit was Lawrence punting for the first time in his natural born life. Though I anticipated a certain amount of WETNESS and even possible complete IMMERSION, no such thing! Once he got the hang of the thing, Lawrence punted as if to the manner born and we fairly flew down the emerald green river, outstripping the ducks and swans with ease, and most of our fellow punters, with whom however we often had (minor) collisions--ALWAYS their fault.
Both nights we had dinner at excellent Oxford restaurants, both overlooking the water, both venerable and charming. And on Monday morning, back to Heathrow for the trip home. A pleasant trip.
Here is the link to the Picture page
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