Happenings at Finlay Cottage
Saturday, 22 March 2008
According to the papers this is the earliest Easter in 95 years and Easter will not fall so early for another 200 and something years. I now understand that the dates for Easter are determined by the full moon and when it falls after the equinox. Given that the equinox is always the 21 March, I can see that 23 March is indeed very early. In any case the weather, as we cross the channel is very equinoxical. There’s a gale force wind blowing outside so we do not dare to venture on deck to watch the white cliffs of Dover. The Norfolk Line ferry, Dunkirk to Dover, lilts and lolls, sways and rises in a very untasteful manner meaning that J., K.M. and myself lie down in order not to feel sea sick. G., who would have thought it, has sea legs and stays standing keeping an eye on R. and L. who also seem oblivious to the motion of the boat and carry on bouncing themselves full force around in the “Little Nippers” play area.
We find Finlay Cottage without too much difficulty. It is attached to a grander farm house called “Parsonage Farm”, which is an Edwardian “gentleman farmer” affair. I love it. It looks a bit run down though and the children, who are used to the ways here, consider it ugly because there is lichen on the roof and the windows look like they could do with a lick of paint – no sense of romance. Tya!
The cottage itself is lovely. A nice big country kitchen, lots of sash windows letting in light. Small and comfy. Only problem – we have no electricity. One of the lines further up has come down in the gale. No electricity also means no heating. As we open the car door to unpack we all nearly get blown away in the heavy winds and the gate keeps crashing shut making it difficult for us to lug luggage inside.
Not to worry. We are all in high spirits and excited to be away and on holiday. We first go to Hastings to stock up on food for the week and conveniently find a big Sainsbury. Next we go to Rye to book a table for Easter lunch and find out where the catholic church is for mass the following day. Rye’s high street is lovely but is not pedestrianised and the pavements can only fit two people comfortably. This makes it tricky when R. decides he’s fed up, has a tantrum and refuses to move forwards, backwards or upwards on to our shoulders.
When we get back the electricity is still off but the Wheelers come round with stack loads of wood and coal and manage to get the old Raeburn up and running again. I get the impression it hasn’t been used in years and I look at it wearily wondering if I can at least boil some water on it – by this time I’m frozen to the bone and would love a cup of tea and some heat in the house. I manage to make a haddock stew on the Raeburn of which I am immensely proud and then the lights came back on again, and the heating, and all is well.
Easter Sunday, 23 March 2008
We wake up to a freezing cold day and snow falling outside. Our room is warm and comfortable. Thank goodness we got heating back again yesterday. “Merry Easter G.” I call out in a cheerful, jolly Santa Claus, sort of way. The kids are up at 6 a.m. since they are still on continental time. It doesn’t matter. They find their way to the TV and watch Cbeebies happily enough. It also means we are on time for once and pack in a wintry Easter egg hunt in the garden before heading off to mass in Rye. The church is packed and we have to stand but it was a nice mass and afterwards we head of to the Vine Hotel Restaurant on the high street. The young American owner, wearing bunny ears, greets us with a big smile and takes us out to the back room, which is oak panelled from top to bottom. The kids really enjoy the roast lunch and tuck in with pleasure and gusto. All things considered they were very well behaved.
Later we decide to go to Camber beach for a long walk. Being prepared I have bought a change of clothes and wellies. It takes the girls and I a good half an hour to get changed in the back of the car, whilst the boys rush off to look at the beach. As we walk on to Camber Sands the arctic wind whips our faces and penetrates straight through us. R. doesn’t look like he’s up for a walk, whilst J and K have discovered the waves and rush up to them.
“This isn’t Biarritz in August kids. Come out of the waves you’ll get all wet!” I shout at them but my voice gets lost in the wind and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. In any case its too late. A wave has caught J and he is wet up to his waist. If J. is not to die of instant cold we have to head back now. So we only manage a five minute walk on the beach and paid £ 2 for parking! As we get to the car G. took J’s wellies off and poured out half a ton of the English channel on to the car park. It’s a good thing we head back when we do.
“Sorry” J. mumbles from the back seat.
We later try a walk along some of the fields by the farm but give up. The wind is just too cold and R. looks miserable.
It’s nice returning to a warm comfortable cottage.
Monday, 24 March 2008
Weather still not good but the kids managed to spend the morning bouncing around on the Wheeler's fantastic trampoline. We decide to go into Hastings to buy some cheap, second hand books in charity shops but they are all closed, it being Easter Monday. Waterston’s is open though and we buy J. three of the Spiderwick Chronicles and K.M some “Horrible Henry” books, which she likes.
Later we take them to “Cromer’s” indoor play park, which we saw advertised in one of the brochures. It costs us £ 26 for the whole family – by far the most expensive excursion of the whole holiday. We are used to paying EUR 2 per child here in The Middle, with parents going for free – or at least having “large family” discounts. The kids have a great time though and it is a good way to kill a rainy afternoon and get the children tired.
Later that evening, J. finishes the first of his Spiderwick Chronicles. I was hoping that the three books would keep him going all holiday. Not since the final Harry Potter was published last July has there been a book that seems to have inspired J – although I have been trying to entice him to read lots of different books. Spiderwick, declares J., is as good as if not better than H.P. I promise to read Book 1 so that we can talk about it since I haven’t the foggiest what the Spiderwick Chronicles are all about. Later I realise that Holly Black and Tony whatshisface, and their publishers have ripped us off. Their stories and illustrations are fantastic but any other decent author would have put their story into one book and not five charging £ 4.99 a pop. J.K. Rowling would never have done that. Nope she gave good value for money. You buy a book and you’re going to get a good long yarn out of it.
On the other hand …. it does get J. reading again. Even K.M is stuck in her Horrid Henry book. Honestly, is there something in the blustery English air that gets them to read? I can’t get them to stick their noses into books for love nor money back home …
Tuesday, 25 March 2008
Spent the morning back in Hastings and buying loads of cheap books. For £ 21 we managed to buy around thirty books. J. and K.M. turned their noses up at most of the books on offer in Oxfam, though we did buy R. a Noddy book and L “Sleeping Beauty”. We don’t linger because Mum, Dad, Aunty Bea and George are arriving for lunch.
G. goes and picks them up from Rye where they are staying the night at a B&B called “The Apothecary” and brings them all back to Finlay Cottage for a spaghetti lunch. Coming from London, they really enjoy seeing the countryside. Dad sits in the sofa with the view over the Wheelers magnificent garden and declares that he has not intention of going back into Rye that afternoon – he’s very happy where he is! Who can blame him – it is lovely being out in the countryside and why rush the whole family into Rye when we have the whole of tomorrow to do things.
Mum arrives with loads of chocolate Easter eggs for the children and agrees to buy J. the last two Spiderwick Chronicle books for his birthday – better than that she gives him £20 as a birthday present. With the £5 that Aunty Bruni gave them all as a present he is swimming in cash and is a very happy 9, nearly 10 year old boy. “Please can we go to Waterstone’s now and buy the last two books?” he begs. But now is not the time to be getting into the car and driving all the way back to Hastings.
After lunch, Mum, Aunty Bea, George, G. and I go for a walk along the farm. Although still cold it is not nearly as windy or chilly as on Easter Sunday. The two boys have a great time holding sticks and pretending to be pirates. R., who has no idea of danger tries to stare a young ram down holding his stick aloft and shouting “NO!” to the juvenile ram. To our amazement the ram backs off but still follows us as we walk along the fields.
After supper G. drives them back into Rye and we agree to meet up the following day.
Wed. 26 March 2008
Am so, so, so enjoying this holiday. I sleep well, I have time to read, the kids are happy (no quibbling), breakfast is unrushed, the kids run outdoors a lot to bounce on the trampoline, look at the lambs or stroke the dogs. We manage a very relaxed morning before heading into Rye at around 11.00 to meet up with Mum and Dad, Bea and George. They seem to have had a good night in the B&B and, like us, are in good spirits. We decide to do a little “walk around” Rye to admire the medieval architecture and views. Later we have lunch in a small place the name of which I forget – I do remember it was named after a contemporary play-right of Shakespeare and Marlow. After lunch we head off to Hastings to buy J. his books, whilst the others take the train to Battle, where we will meet up later.
Trip to Battle great fun. Very powerful in fact. I find myself later thinking a lot about William slaughtering Harold and his army. They have a brilliant visitors centre. J. loves this kind of stuff and we walk around a relatively compact, though at this time of year very muddy, field. Close on a 1000 years ago epic, decisive, battles were obviously small-scale and the story not overly complicated: On top of the hill was Harold (significantly not on horse back): Below was William: To the left the Bretons and Flemish (yes Flemish!): Early in the morning William’s cavalry charged uphill but were repulsed etc. etc. By the time we reach the top of the hill where the Abbey stands and the daffodils grow we have reached the spot were Harold was shot through the eye with an arrow – William gave permission to Harold’s mistress “Edith Swanneck” later to identify his body parts for Christian burial in an unidentified grave. ‘twas a pitiful end to Anglo-Saxon rule and changed the course of English history.
The Abbey, built by William to pay penance to God for the battle and to thank Him for the victory, is strangely dark and sinister. Its now a boarding school. I ask J. if he would like to go it to which he emphatically says “No”. Can’t blame him – there is something about the Abbey that makes me shiver too. Too many ghosts I suspect. At any rate before the holiday the kids had never heard of 1066. They have now.
Thus 27 March:
The kids protest. They swear they will not budge an inch. They accuse me of being too bossy. G. begins to take their side.
“We did promise them a quiet day today. No visits, that kind of thing.”
Its 11.30 a.m. and the kids have been taking it easy all morning – playing on the trampoline, looking at the lambs, stroking the dogs. R., however, is a tad too young to go off on his own and has spent most of the morning behind the box and I sense that unless action is taken our afternoon will be spent zapping channels. It’s the first day of some sort of sunshine and I’m not about to let one single day of our holiday descend into “box” viewing when we could be “castle” viewing.
“Come on kids – the brochure looks great. Look! It’s a medieval castle built by a knight made rich by fighting in France and bringing his loot home to England.”
“No!” they shout back. “No more castles. We hate castles. They’re booooring”.
G. and I get some sort of a picnic together for eating in the car when we get there. Somehow we manage to force four bolshy kids into their seat belts and head off through the East Sussex countryside. Showers with intermittent sunshine mark the 40 minute journey as we head towards Bodiam Castle. We eat our sandwiches and scones in the car as rain pelts the windows. By the time we have finished the sun is out full force and the kids spill out of the car in a good mood.
Bodiam Castle is truly amazing with all the exact proportions, designs and moat of a children’s text-book illustration. We love the moat, the draw-bridge, the portcullis, the “murder” holes to kill off any invaders who dare try and enter the central court. J. and K. enjoy the fifteen minute “film” that we watch in a damp dark room just next to the castle’s entrance although R does get fidgety at some point.
“This is really good fun Mummy.” K.M says as we scramble up some more steep, windy steps to yet another tower.
Why, I wonder, does it always have to be such a battle to get them out when I know they enjoy it once we’re there?
We leave the parking at around three o’clock and the sun is shinning. It’s the first bit of sun we have seen in a long, long time.
“Shall we go to Whinchelsea beach?” I suggest since the afternoon is still young.
“No Mummy. No! We want to go home.”
“But the weather is so nice still and its not that far from here. Why don’t we just go and have a look before we head back?”
“No. No.” they all shout back at me.
We end up going. I must be a very forceful kinda girl to still get away with it in spite of all the opposition. Later when I ask the kids what they thought the best bit about the holiday was L. says “Going to Whinchelsea beach and collecting sea shells.”
Friday, 28 March
Its already been planned for a while and the children have been warned so they do not protest too much when we head off to Chartwell on our final day. In any case the rain has returned again full force and its pouring down outside. Not much chance for trampolining, walking or anything else really. It takes us a good hour to get there along the clogged A21. Once again we have a picnic in the car watching the rain trickle down the steamed-up windows.
I just had to go and visit this place having nearly finished reading the abridged version of Winston Churchill’s “The Second World War” – a fantastic read by the way and by no means a high falutin’ affair. It’s a privilege to read since one hobnobs with only the highest ranking figures of the second world war – Roosevelt, Eisenhower, Monty – oh yes and dear old Uncle Joe as well. Fascinating and fantastically anecdotal.
The kids behave themselves remarkably well in Chartwell and luckily non of the great man’s possessions are knocked over or otherwise damaged by a horde of Van Calsters running along Chartwell’s corridors or elegant drawing rooms. G. keeps a beady eye on R. who discovers a fish-tank in Churchill’s study where some of his most notable thoughts and speeches were written. The fish keep R. happy while I take the other three around.
By the time we have finished the rain has stopped and I plan a walk around the gardens but this time there is really very little willingness to do so from the rest of the family and I concur having got away with a lot already. In any case it’s a good thing to get home early to begin the process of packing everything up for the return journey.
According to the papers this is the earliest Easter in 95 years and Easter will not fall so early for another 200 and something years. I now understand that the dates for Easter are determined by the full moon and when it falls after the equinox. Given that the equinox is always the 21 March, I can see that 23 March is indeed very early. In any case the weather, as we cross the channel is very equinoxical. There’s a gale force wind blowing outside so we do not dare to venture on deck to watch the white cliffs of Dover. The Norfolk Line ferry, Dunkirk to Dover, lilts and lolls, sways and rises in a very untasteful manner meaning that J., K.M. and myself lie down in order not to feel sea sick. G., who would have thought it, has sea legs and stays standing keeping an eye on R. and L. who also seem oblivious to the motion of the boat and carry on bouncing themselves full force around in the “Little Nippers” play area.
We find Finlay Cottage without too much difficulty. It is attached to a grander farm house called “Parsonage Farm”, which is an Edwardian “gentleman farmer” affair. I love it. It looks a bit run down though and the children, who are used to the ways here, consider it ugly because there is lichen on the roof and the windows look like they could do with a lick of paint – no sense of romance. Tya!
The cottage itself is lovely. A nice big country kitchen, lots of sash windows letting in light. Small and comfy. Only problem – we have no electricity. One of the lines further up has come down in the gale. No electricity also means no heating. As we open the car door to unpack we all nearly get blown away in the heavy winds and the gate keeps crashing shut making it difficult for us to lug luggage inside.
Not to worry. We are all in high spirits and excited to be away and on holiday. We first go to Hastings to stock up on food for the week and conveniently find a big Sainsbury. Next we go to Rye to book a table for Easter lunch and find out where the catholic church is for mass the following day. Rye’s high street is lovely but is not pedestrianised and the pavements can only fit two people comfortably. This makes it tricky when R. decides he’s fed up, has a tantrum and refuses to move forwards, backwards or upwards on to our shoulders.
When we get back the electricity is still off but the Wheelers come round with stack loads of wood and coal and manage to get the old Raeburn up and running again. I get the impression it hasn’t been used in years and I look at it wearily wondering if I can at least boil some water on it – by this time I’m frozen to the bone and would love a cup of tea and some heat in the house. I manage to make a haddock stew on the Raeburn of which I am immensely proud and then the lights came back on again, and the heating, and all is well.
Easter Sunday, 23 March 2008
We wake up to a freezing cold day and snow falling outside. Our room is warm and comfortable. Thank goodness we got heating back again yesterday. “Merry Easter G.” I call out in a cheerful, jolly Santa Claus, sort of way. The kids are up at 6 a.m. since they are still on continental time. It doesn’t matter. They find their way to the TV and watch Cbeebies happily enough. It also means we are on time for once and pack in a wintry Easter egg hunt in the garden before heading off to mass in Rye. The church is packed and we have to stand but it was a nice mass and afterwards we head of to the Vine Hotel Restaurant on the high street. The young American owner, wearing bunny ears, greets us with a big smile and takes us out to the back room, which is oak panelled from top to bottom. The kids really enjoy the roast lunch and tuck in with pleasure and gusto. All things considered they were very well behaved.
Later we decide to go to Camber beach for a long walk. Being prepared I have bought a change of clothes and wellies. It takes the girls and I a good half an hour to get changed in the back of the car, whilst the boys rush off to look at the beach. As we walk on to Camber Sands the arctic wind whips our faces and penetrates straight through us. R. doesn’t look like he’s up for a walk, whilst J and K have discovered the waves and rush up to them.
“This isn’t Biarritz in August kids. Come out of the waves you’ll get all wet!” I shout at them but my voice gets lost in the wind and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. In any case its too late. A wave has caught J and he is wet up to his waist. If J. is not to die of instant cold we have to head back now. So we only manage a five minute walk on the beach and paid £ 2 for parking! As we get to the car G. took J’s wellies off and poured out half a ton of the English channel on to the car park. It’s a good thing we head back when we do.
“Sorry” J. mumbles from the back seat.
We later try a walk along some of the fields by the farm but give up. The wind is just too cold and R. looks miserable.
It’s nice returning to a warm comfortable cottage.
Monday, 24 March 2008
Weather still not good but the kids managed to spend the morning bouncing around on the Wheeler's fantastic trampoline. We decide to go into Hastings to buy some cheap, second hand books in charity shops but they are all closed, it being Easter Monday. Waterston’s is open though and we buy J. three of the Spiderwick Chronicles and K.M some “Horrible Henry” books, which she likes.
Later we take them to “Cromer’s” indoor play park, which we saw advertised in one of the brochures. It costs us £ 26 for the whole family – by far the most expensive excursion of the whole holiday. We are used to paying EUR 2 per child here in The Middle, with parents going for free – or at least having “large family” discounts. The kids have a great time though and it is a good way to kill a rainy afternoon and get the children tired.
Later that evening, J. finishes the first of his Spiderwick Chronicles. I was hoping that the three books would keep him going all holiday. Not since the final Harry Potter was published last July has there been a book that seems to have inspired J – although I have been trying to entice him to read lots of different books. Spiderwick, declares J., is as good as if not better than H.P. I promise to read Book 1 so that we can talk about it since I haven’t the foggiest what the Spiderwick Chronicles are all about. Later I realise that Holly Black and Tony whatshisface, and their publishers have ripped us off. Their stories and illustrations are fantastic but any other decent author would have put their story into one book and not five charging £ 4.99 a pop. J.K. Rowling would never have done that. Nope she gave good value for money. You buy a book and you’re going to get a good long yarn out of it.
On the other hand …. it does get J. reading again. Even K.M is stuck in her Horrid Henry book. Honestly, is there something in the blustery English air that gets them to read? I can’t get them to stick their noses into books for love nor money back home …
Tuesday, 25 March 2008
Spent the morning back in Hastings and buying loads of cheap books. For £ 21 we managed to buy around thirty books. J. and K.M. turned their noses up at most of the books on offer in Oxfam, though we did buy R. a Noddy book and L “Sleeping Beauty”. We don’t linger because Mum, Dad, Aunty Bea and George are arriving for lunch.
G. goes and picks them up from Rye where they are staying the night at a B&B called “The Apothecary” and brings them all back to Finlay Cottage for a spaghetti lunch. Coming from London, they really enjoy seeing the countryside. Dad sits in the sofa with the view over the Wheelers magnificent garden and declares that he has not intention of going back into Rye that afternoon – he’s very happy where he is! Who can blame him – it is lovely being out in the countryside and why rush the whole family into Rye when we have the whole of tomorrow to do things.
Mum arrives with loads of chocolate Easter eggs for the children and agrees to buy J. the last two Spiderwick Chronicle books for his birthday – better than that she gives him £20 as a birthday present. With the £5 that Aunty Bruni gave them all as a present he is swimming in cash and is a very happy 9, nearly 10 year old boy. “Please can we go to Waterstone’s now and buy the last two books?” he begs. But now is not the time to be getting into the car and driving all the way back to Hastings.
After lunch, Mum, Aunty Bea, George, G. and I go for a walk along the farm. Although still cold it is not nearly as windy or chilly as on Easter Sunday. The two boys have a great time holding sticks and pretending to be pirates. R., who has no idea of danger tries to stare a young ram down holding his stick aloft and shouting “NO!” to the juvenile ram. To our amazement the ram backs off but still follows us as we walk along the fields.
After supper G. drives them back into Rye and we agree to meet up the following day.
Wed. 26 March 2008
Am so, so, so enjoying this holiday. I sleep well, I have time to read, the kids are happy (no quibbling), breakfast is unrushed, the kids run outdoors a lot to bounce on the trampoline, look at the lambs or stroke the dogs. We manage a very relaxed morning before heading into Rye at around 11.00 to meet up with Mum and Dad, Bea and George. They seem to have had a good night in the B&B and, like us, are in good spirits. We decide to do a little “walk around” Rye to admire the medieval architecture and views. Later we have lunch in a small place the name of which I forget – I do remember it was named after a contemporary play-right of Shakespeare and Marlow. After lunch we head off to Hastings to buy J. his books, whilst the others take the train to Battle, where we will meet up later.
Trip to Battle great fun. Very powerful in fact. I find myself later thinking a lot about William slaughtering Harold and his army. They have a brilliant visitors centre. J. loves this kind of stuff and we walk around a relatively compact, though at this time of year very muddy, field. Close on a 1000 years ago epic, decisive, battles were obviously small-scale and the story not overly complicated: On top of the hill was Harold (significantly not on horse back): Below was William: To the left the Bretons and Flemish (yes Flemish!): Early in the morning William’s cavalry charged uphill but were repulsed etc. etc. By the time we reach the top of the hill where the Abbey stands and the daffodils grow we have reached the spot were Harold was shot through the eye with an arrow – William gave permission to Harold’s mistress “Edith Swanneck” later to identify his body parts for Christian burial in an unidentified grave. ‘twas a pitiful end to Anglo-Saxon rule and changed the course of English history.
The Abbey, built by William to pay penance to God for the battle and to thank Him for the victory, is strangely dark and sinister. Its now a boarding school. I ask J. if he would like to go it to which he emphatically says “No”. Can’t blame him – there is something about the Abbey that makes me shiver too. Too many ghosts I suspect. At any rate before the holiday the kids had never heard of 1066. They have now.
Thus 27 March:
The kids protest. They swear they will not budge an inch. They accuse me of being too bossy. G. begins to take their side.
“We did promise them a quiet day today. No visits, that kind of thing.”
Its 11.30 a.m. and the kids have been taking it easy all morning – playing on the trampoline, looking at the lambs, stroking the dogs. R., however, is a tad too young to go off on his own and has spent most of the morning behind the box and I sense that unless action is taken our afternoon will be spent zapping channels. It’s the first day of some sort of sunshine and I’m not about to let one single day of our holiday descend into “box” viewing when we could be “castle” viewing.
“Come on kids – the brochure looks great. Look! It’s a medieval castle built by a knight made rich by fighting in France and bringing his loot home to England.”
“No!” they shout back. “No more castles. We hate castles. They’re booooring”.
G. and I get some sort of a picnic together for eating in the car when we get there. Somehow we manage to force four bolshy kids into their seat belts and head off through the East Sussex countryside. Showers with intermittent sunshine mark the 40 minute journey as we head towards Bodiam Castle. We eat our sandwiches and scones in the car as rain pelts the windows. By the time we have finished the sun is out full force and the kids spill out of the car in a good mood.
Bodiam Castle is truly amazing with all the exact proportions, designs and moat of a children’s text-book illustration. We love the moat, the draw-bridge, the portcullis, the “murder” holes to kill off any invaders who dare try and enter the central court. J. and K. enjoy the fifteen minute “film” that we watch in a damp dark room just next to the castle’s entrance although R does get fidgety at some point.
“This is really good fun Mummy.” K.M says as we scramble up some more steep, windy steps to yet another tower.
Why, I wonder, does it always have to be such a battle to get them out when I know they enjoy it once we’re there?
We leave the parking at around three o’clock and the sun is shinning. It’s the first bit of sun we have seen in a long, long time.
“Shall we go to Whinchelsea beach?” I suggest since the afternoon is still young.
“No Mummy. No! We want to go home.”
“But the weather is so nice still and its not that far from here. Why don’t we just go and have a look before we head back?”
“No. No.” they all shout back at me.
We end up going. I must be a very forceful kinda girl to still get away with it in spite of all the opposition. Later when I ask the kids what they thought the best bit about the holiday was L. says “Going to Whinchelsea beach and collecting sea shells.”
Friday, 28 March
Its already been planned for a while and the children have been warned so they do not protest too much when we head off to Chartwell on our final day. In any case the rain has returned again full force and its pouring down outside. Not much chance for trampolining, walking or anything else really. It takes us a good hour to get there along the clogged A21. Once again we have a picnic in the car watching the rain trickle down the steamed-up windows.
I just had to go and visit this place having nearly finished reading the abridged version of Winston Churchill’s “The Second World War” – a fantastic read by the way and by no means a high falutin’ affair. It’s a privilege to read since one hobnobs with only the highest ranking figures of the second world war – Roosevelt, Eisenhower, Monty – oh yes and dear old Uncle Joe as well. Fascinating and fantastically anecdotal.
The kids behave themselves remarkably well in Chartwell and luckily non of the great man’s possessions are knocked over or otherwise damaged by a horde of Van Calsters running along Chartwell’s corridors or elegant drawing rooms. G. keeps a beady eye on R. who discovers a fish-tank in Churchill’s study where some of his most notable thoughts and speeches were written. The fish keep R. happy while I take the other three around.
By the time we have finished the rain has stopped and I plan a walk around the gardens but this time there is really very little willingness to do so from the rest of the family and I concur having got away with a lot already. In any case it’s a good thing to get home early to begin the process of packing everything up for the return journey.
posted by Kathleen at 12:46 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home