Such a lovely day in Long Crendon, cool, in and out sunny, no real agenda beyond enjoying Stella and Peter's company, home, garden (extensive - oh, the British do know how to garden!) and village. So much thatch Liza eventually had to put her camera down. In the afternoon a lovely English Sunday lunch — roast of beef, peas,broad beans and carrots, new potatoes, hollandaise. A fine French wine. Then - oh, be still my beating heart - gooseberry fool. Yum.
Now we are in Moreton-on-Marsh in the Cotswolds staging ourselves for the beginning of our four-day walkabout, thanks to S&P who drove us up here this afternoon. Staying at the Fosseway Farm B&B (C). Peter commented that our hostess was a dragon. And he did not mean a Puff. I commend him on his instincts. I felt immediately the same way. So we escaped back into town for a walk (as if we need one) and finally a glass'o and an English pie — so very tasty and hot. Back now, with the B&B rocking with the World Cup match between Brazil and somebody-or-other. England is World Cup mad, and not doing so well.
We must sort out our walking gear for the morrow and get some sleep — personally, so devoted to this blog have I been that I have not been to bed before midnight since i arrived in the UK. Which means, oddly, that I'm waltzing on the cusp of US time while twirling in a five-hour time zone difference. If I keep this up, which I have no intention of doing, I could return to the US unlagged, in either direction. A feat. But one I'd forfeit in a minute in exchange for an early night.
That is my excuse for an abrupt exit here. You will forgive me, please, if I collapse into a pillowed heap.
Truffle: A proper Sunday lunch on the patio at Baker's Close, with people I love, gazing down over Stella's exquisite garden. The reason Yanks call this area backyard and the English call it garden came home to me today in spades. Manicured like a fairway, planted like a hundred well planned bouquets, walls climbed by roses and wisteria, paths trimmed with fingernail clippers. The work. The beauty.
Quote of the day: "All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware." (Martin Buber)