Saturday 5 June 2010

Saturday 1.

 


On Thursday morning we set off down to Dorset (West country, Lori, just before you get to Summerset, Devon, and Cornwall) to pick up a small grandfather clock I had purchased. It's a bit of a long story but originally it was to have been delivered, then the vendor was rushed into hospital, so we decided that we'd drive down there. On the way down called in at one or two antique shops and bought bits and pieces, including a rather rusty sword.
Ann had booked us into what turned out to be a very pleasant bed and breakfast establishment, and we arrived there just before six in the evening. Our hostess made us a pot of tea and recommended one of the two pubs in the village for our evening meal. Before we went out I asked her about a very handsome long case/or grandfather clock on the landing outside our room. "That hasn't gone for years", says our hostess, "although I wouldn't want it to strike, It might keep the guests awake". I pointed out that there was a strike/silent facility in the arch. After we'd had our tea and biscuits, and just as we were leaving to walk across to the pub, we came across our host on the landing, and I asked his permission to play with the clock. He very sportingly joined in, and we removed the hood, and set the clock in beat, which was all it had it needed, and set it going. About five minutes work.
We then went out to find the recommended pub. It was just across the road from our front gate, so we wandered over and ate there. The food served was top end of the 'pub grub' market. We had it at one of the two tables outside the front of the pub as it was a lovely sunny evening, and the pub face south west. The service, too was excellent. Ann had chicken, and I had roast belly of pork (the crackling was done to a turn). Vegetables were fresh and good. We both indulged in a glass of the local bitter to wash it down. We then both had a pudding. Now normally if you eat at an English pub, the puddings tend to let the meal down. Well, it wasn't so in this case. Both were quite obviously made on the premises and were fresh from the oven. I had a coffee, and the bill for the whole meal, drinks and all, came to twenty two pounds. Of course I gave our very attentive young waitress twenty five pounds and told her that the change was for her- and that it had been well earned. We then went for a walk to find the area where we had arranged to pick up the clock in the morning, then walked back to our room. Before we retired for the night I checked that the clock on the landing was still going, turned the strike/silent hand to silent, and made sure that this hand was working effectively. In the morning I was glad to see that the clock was still going, and had kept very good time. We had an excellent fried breakfast, settled the score, and I told our hostess how to keep the clock on the landing happy. She was astonished to hear that it had been going all night, and was likely to keep going. It always amazes me that people will allow good clocks to stand moribund for years in the blind belief that 'it hasn't gone for years, so it will probably never go again'. Good clocks are like us; they are better for being kept at work, doing the job they were designed to do.
We then went to collect the clock we'd come down to pick up, payed for it, bought another clock from the vendor, and whilst packing them into the car, the clock vendor saw the sword I'd bought on the way down, so I sold it to him. We then drove back to Suffolk, making a detour to call and see Sarah and the children. We'd bought some cakes en route, so had tea with them, and eventually arrived home and unpacked the car at around 9.30 p.m. A heavy, but thoroughly enjoyable two days.

P.s. The above photo was taken inside the church in the village where we'd stayed (Marnhull -pronounced locally as Maarnle). The pillar was made in circa 1180, and the faces round the capital are supposed to be portraits of the stonemason's labourers.
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7 comments:

Crowbard said...

The Labourers' portraits bought Geoffrey Chaucer to mind - dunno why though - he didn't turn up till a century and a half later.

Glad you had an enjoyable and succesful break - try having a RESTFUL one occasionally! - just for the novelty of the experience of course - I'm sure there's too much Nana Trower in you to feel comfortable about taking restful breaks!

Unknown said...

You're probably right, Carl. Must admit ticker played up a bit after we got home. But I only really enjoy breaks with a purpose, or theme, to them.
Warm regards to you both, Mike and Ann.

Crowbard said...

I hadn't realized what a committed Hedonist you were, Mike!
You do not always have to take breaks in a manner which supplies pure pleasure. Just as taking medicine is not supposed to be a pleasant experience - but a healthful one. Un-enjoyable, relaxing breaks may be good for your health... provided you have the self-discipline not to fret about their frivolity and meaninglessness - Aye, there's the rub!

Suggested theme for next break...
be bored, snooze in the afternoons, meditate quietly upon the beauties of nature interspersed with the odd three-minute sessions of the gentlest modes of Tai-Chi and taking the utmost care not to fall over. Please look after your heart, buy it a posy of flowers every day and tell it how vital its continued productivity is to all your readers, fans and admirers.

From your biggest fan... (although I have lost a little weight worrying about you)
LuvBruv.

Pootatu's v-word = istorsh
Could it be she considers what I just said 'is tosh'?

Unknown said...

Tosh and taradiddle!!!!!!! young sir!!!!!!!!
I am beginning to find, as I get older, that generally pretty good though our education undoubtedly was, there is one glaring gap in it. They warned us against the use of strong language, but they never taught us any. So that now, just when I need something stronger and more expressive, I am limited to the use of such mild expletives as tosh and taradiddle. Very frustrating and bad for the heart, which, I'm glad to say is behaving itself rather better today.
Much love to you both, Mike.

Crowbard said...

Speaking as one who has been moulded in the gutters of society's more questionable elements may I commend for your consideration such expletives as:-

Lawks a'mussy! - an appeal for the mercy of Providence.

Dash my wig and buttons! - condemnation of ones closest and most essential eqipage.

Blummin' 'eck! - The goriest infernal regions.

Naff Orf! - please go away.

On yer bike! - please go away faster.

Git orf moi laand! - I firmly request your absence.

Oi'll 'ave the Lor on yer! - unless you desist, litigation may ensue.

I believe the recently mentioned Geoff Chaucer recommended the mediaeval curse "By Saint Loy!"
but this was considered the mildest form of effective cursing since St. Loy was a particularly mild saint who refused to curse at all!

PS Glad to hear ticker is improving its behaviour.

Crowbard said...

How remiss of me I had forgotten our Norman ancestry.

You could also say - Zzzut alors! - aproximating our - Now what?

or - Nom d'un cochon - that should bring home the bacon.

In Direst Circumstances perhaps Nana Trower's attempt at expressing her appreciation might fill the bill - Merdi - or Merde - s'il vous preferez.
Whilst back in Blighty "Baking-powder Ellen" might suffice in her abbreviated form - Soda-Nell!

Unknown said...

Thank you for your suggestions, Carl. I used to employ the expression "Dash me wig!!!" to indicate surprise; but the last time I used it Warren Williams looked at my hair and said "I always suspected it was a wig, Mike, and now you're admitting it, are you ?" I know he's Welsh and has very little hair himself (not that either of those facts fully excuses such rudeness), but it put me off the expression, and I haven't used it since.