tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-159374052024-03-05T00:43:32.216-08:00Amazing Voyages of the TurtleSandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.comBlogger621125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-76348874432212275252016-11-16T21:27:00.001-08:002016-11-16T21:27:22.467-08:00Turtle BluesSo my blogs have disappeared. All of them. Amazing Voyages of the Turtle, Turtle Afloat, Turtle Tracks. I can find links to them -- or at least to Voyages -- on Google, but when I click on them, I get an error message. This blog has been removed. Wait. That's MY blog. I didn't remove it. Who does these things? I was reading the blog just a few days ago. Anyway, I did find a cached version, and the button to write a new post works, so I'm hoping against hope that if I put a new post in, I will bring my blog back to life. Keep your fingers crossed.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-80477830015648381742013-09-12T13:50:00.002-07:002013-09-12T13:50:22.730-07:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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We have been in England for a week now, and our jet lag has
finally abated. Today, we went adventuring in our rental car, a VW Polo. We
started the day with a visit to the village of Corfe, where we had tea in the
National Trust tea shop’s garden, just so that we could gaze again at the
ruined castle and wonder at the fact that the Roundheads, having taken the
castle, chose to destroy it. If we had conquered that castle, we would simply
have moved in. Silly Oliver Cromwell. After tea, we headed for Lulworth Cove,
which involved driving through a military shooting range. We stopped in a car
park to admire the scenery, and we could hear machine gun fire in the distance.
Moving right along……</div>
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It’s been sixteen years since I was last at Lulworth Cove.
That was on my first visit to England. On that occasion, we took the high path
out of the village, along the very top of the cliff. At one point, I said “I
don’t want to leave here.” Robin tried to reassure me. He said we would come
back the following year. “No,” I said. “I don’t mean that I want to stay in
England. I don’t even want to go back to your brother’s house. I want to stay
right here.”<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUM7Zg0PXkXLHiGcwaWA-_yTN6KgdjEeS_2nsNYuDoJcpJDJKmWELDuRs1WLl-qTOV91EkWXj6qaecflSr-iQdMxM8EhXEFBOPgQpRINnGv4jSfjK3DNzXd_cXSJAQNh6uVDynw/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqUM7Zg0PXkXLHiGcwaWA-_yTN6KgdjEeS_2nsNYuDoJcpJDJKmWELDuRs1WLl-qTOV91EkWXj6qaecflSr-iQdMxM8EhXEFBOPgQpRINnGv4jSfjK3DNzXd_cXSJAQNh6uVDynw/s320/012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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That was more than a little impractical. We were sitting on
a grassy ledge, looking out over the ocean, listening to the sound of sheep
baaing in the distance, feeling the wind in our hair. The view was fantastic,
but the site was altogether lacking in amenities, so we left, sighing. </div>
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I’ve come back to England many times now, and I’ve now got
my favourite haunts – no trip is complete without attending Evensong at
Winchester Cathedral, for instance – but somehow, we haven’t come back to
Lulworth Cove until now. This time, we took the low road, and even that was a
challenge. We have, it appears, grown older.<br />
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We strolled downhill through the village, taking our place
in a line of what could have been – and perhaps were – pilgrims, all of us
bound for the shore. Stepping onto the sand, we looked around the cove and
decided that it was a little too populated for our taste. So we backtracked a
little way and turned up the lowest path along the cliff. I’m so glad we did.
Even from that elevation, the view was spectacular. I saw again the bare cliffs
that fascinated me years ago, their rock layers bent and twisted, the sea rush<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">i</i>ng through arches worn through the
rock.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EA0YRl3U5rOQeidrYFoyWbW9HQIW-TDSbTIoMqn8ycbYEKvWgaCGnY_8i44HYaor6LjlJoOPWe-8KdjCk06piUS0-mw_XZ0qrIM6ieGfTSvOCgs_ryw0jfUrJN-0ylDYhJfVmg/s1600/Lulworth+cliff+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EA0YRl3U5rOQeidrYFoyWbW9HQIW-TDSbTIoMqn8ycbYEKvWgaCGnY_8i44HYaor6LjlJoOPWe-8KdjCk06piUS0-mw_XZ0qrIM6ieGfTSvOCgs_ryw0jfUrJN-0ylDYhJfVmg/s320/Lulworth+cliff+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On our way back to the car, we stopped at a shop selling
Cornish ice cream. Robin ordered a single scoop vanilla ice cream cone. I
ordered a single scoop mango sorbet cone. We walked along, eating our treats,
and I couldn’t help noticing that Robin’s vanilla ice cream was yellower than
my mango sorbet. I don’t know what they feed the cows in Cornwall, but it’s
powerful stuff. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We took the long way home, just to avoid the rush hour
traffic at Poole and Bournemouth. I’m not sure how many times I would have to
ride in a car here, before I could overcome my terror. I’m happiest on the
motorway, where we aren’t screaming past parked cars that I could swear are
less than six inches from my door. Today, I nearly leapt into the back seat to
get to safety. Not that that would have helped, but that’s what my muscles
wanted to do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Never mind. We are home again, safe and sound, and it’s time
for me to go for my evening swim in the indoor pool. Now this, I could get used
to.</div>
Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-91654866135847709802012-10-27T21:00:00.000-07:002012-10-27T21:00:00.706-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSzPiDpjmp1UuZIjR3rgz4KRLBaxRD_nFn7iE9uHxSu3_VxReN4ia9Sm0WdpJfBQX2OAec3sAFY4I5_fR2XGBKWiCanOXlraXC7M9R9V3m-GJGQTKgbxOC5RVRfe0XAks3lAnQw/s1600/Car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHSzPiDpjmp1UuZIjR3rgz4KRLBaxRD_nFn7iE9uHxSu3_VxReN4ia9Sm0WdpJfBQX2OAec3sAFY4I5_fR2XGBKWiCanOXlraXC7M9R9V3m-GJGQTKgbxOC5RVRfe0XAks3lAnQw/s1600/Car.jpg" /></a> <i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Dance me to the end...</span></span></i><br />
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<br />
I can hardly sit still, I'm so excited. All year, I've looked forward to this night, this journey, this hand on my arm, this man at my side. Sometimes I wish that the <a href="http://willowmanor.blogspot.ca/">Willow Manor Ball</a> came along more often, but in truth, the waiting is part of the fun, and I don't know how I would manage to do this much shopping more than once a year. Not that I haven't enjoyed every wild, extravagant moment of it. I mean, a <i>Cartier bracelet</i>! Can you believe it? What I love about this bracelet, by the way, is that it's really a watch, so when I'm dressing for the ball, watching for my escort (I'll tell you later who that is, but I've already given you a clue!) I can sneak a look at the watch to see how much time I have left.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLmaVqxgJDqal2BcsZzmYKkMqhsYSI8QYeSxXdsDJvtuKBJ8bhorH5VRuQa-JweiLBge07Td0Mh6JDvJd_Q6EDR3Vc8qWLqSInMCIadb59ZW8HiDHXYGh3zyYJy5Eed1k808hdXA/s1600/earrings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLmaVqxgJDqal2BcsZzmYKkMqhsYSI8QYeSxXdsDJvtuKBJ8bhorH5VRuQa-JweiLBge07Td0Mh6JDvJd_Q6EDR3Vc8qWLqSInMCIadb59ZW8HiDHXYGh3zyYJy5Eed1k808hdXA/s1600/earrings.jpg" /></a></div>
My dress isn't complicated, thank goodness. This year I went for a young, romantic look, because I know how much that kind of silhouette complements my slim figure and my long, glossy hair. I chose my dress quite early, because I fell in love with it at first sight, but I wasn't sure what colour I wanted it to be until I found these earrings. Bingo! I thought at first that I would choose the pewter colour in the centre for my dress, and I still love that colour, but after all, this is a party, and a party calls for colour, so I've decided on the blue. <br />
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Then I went looking for shoes. That took some serious shopping. Do you have any idea how many fabulous pairs of shoes there are? I finally got it down to two pairs, but I couldn't make up my mind between them, so I bought both. This morning, I took out the two pairs of shoes and had a long talk with myself (and with them, actually, but don't tell anyone!) Suddenly, I was absolutely sure which pair I wanted to wear. Aren't these gorgeous?<br />
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<br />
And now, the pièce de résistance -- my wonderful, beautiful, stunning, absolutely unforgettable dress.<br />
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Just picture it in that luminous blue -- at least for now. Soon, very soon, there will be a knock at the door, and I will open it to greet my date, and we will be on our way to the manor, and all this will be real, not just images on a screen.<br />
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I mentioned my hair, didn't I? Well, this is the arrangement I decided on. My hairdresser has done herself proud. I promised to bring her some photographs from the ball. I just hope there will be an official photographer, because I don't know where I'd hide a camera in my gown!<br />
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The only really bright colour I'll be wearing is on my fingernails. I've fallen in love with nail art.<br />
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Even my mask will be understated. I want to waft through the room like a whisper, or like something you can't quite remember, but can't quite forget. Do you think I've captured that look?<br />
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All right. The time has come. He is at the door, looking distinguished, somehow looking mature and yet as youthful as when we first met.<br />
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Yes, it's Leonard Cohen. When he called, I confess that I played hard-to-get for a few minutes, but that was just until he promised to sing to me at the ball. Then I smiled and said that of course I would go with him. He returned my smile, because he knew all along what I wanted.<br />
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Now we're off. We have the Lear jet, of course, and the limo at the other end, but it's still a long trip to the Manor, so we had better get going. Oh, look. Champagne. How thoughtful!<br />
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You know what I want Leonard to sing, don't you?<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NGorjBVag0I" width="420"></iframe> <br />
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*Except for the photo of Leonard Cohen, which is a Google image, and the Willow Manor Ball badge, which is used by permission, all these images come from Pinterest, my department store of choice. <br />
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<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-9288298162902083542012-10-16T18:18:00.003-07:002012-10-16T18:18:51.346-07:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6woWTbDlBVaPeUtjXj9It3YCiOcTgrkIU6DqM-CHIbXG-1Z0I-CZnEBOcafEx1Lgo9V6I4J0CBWLCYJ5F4xmJELQCgoUYwmC2d-fPOcEUj7mf8bxF4v_7c-75szbjGXfjYNl7tg/s1600/DSCF1824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6woWTbDlBVaPeUtjXj9It3YCiOcTgrkIU6DqM-CHIbXG-1Z0I-CZnEBOcafEx1Lgo9V6I4J0CBWLCYJ5F4xmJELQCgoUYwmC2d-fPOcEUj7mf8bxF4v_7c-75szbjGXfjYNl7tg/s320/DSCF1824.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dorchester </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Be it ever so humble....</span></span><br />
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Yes, we are at home. We decided not to spend the night in Vancouver last night, because we wanted our own pillows; we got home some time after 7:00 p.m. and managed to stay up until 9:00. That was 22.5 hours after we got up, so we figured we had done our best. <br />
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I woke up at 1:00 a.m. and watched television for a while; then went back to sleep, only to wake up at 5:00 a.m., absolutely famished. I headed for the kitchen, figuring there might be something edible there, even though we had been gone for a month: and there was Robin, out in the back room, gathering up some tomatoes that he had left to ripen. They had indeed ripened, so both of us carried tomatoes to the kitchen, made sandwiches, ate them, and went back to bed. I finally surfaced at 9:00 a.m., and I've had a great day. Robin's jet lag is worse than mine, this time. Maybe that's because instead of trying to take a nap this afternoon, I went for a pedicure. I can wholeheartedly recommend the pedicure (with foot and calf massage, of course) as the perfect post-flight experience. It is after 6:00 p.m. and I am just starting to feel sleepy.<br />
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I've already been online, looking at cottages to rent next year. We probably won't do another narrowboat trip this coming fall, or stay in a hotel. I did not enjoy being without a kitchen during our hotel stay, and Robin is thinking that if we were to have weather next year like what we had this time, he'd just as soon not be standing outside, steering a boat. I'm excited at the prospect of having a home of our own for the month and taking our usual day trips.<br />
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Meanwhile, we will be heading to Texas in January, and before that, there's NaNoWriMo to keep me busy. And work, of course. <br />
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Thank you for following my English adventure story. I hope you'll come back to hear about the Turtle's next voyage.<br />
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<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-16756055997126075932012-10-13T14:05:00.000-07:002012-10-13T14:05:23.396-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: lime;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Far from the Madding Crowd</span></span></i></span><br />
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We were indeed far from the madding crowd, at least for a little while. Our journey today: Lyndhurst to Burley to Picket Post to Verwood to Three-Legged Cross to Bere Regis to Tolpuddle to Puddletown to Higher Bockhampton.....<br />
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And here we had a respite from our travels, because here, at last, we found the Hardy Monument -- not the huge monument on the hill. We found that several years ago, and I wrote about it <a href="http://sandarastraveljournal.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Hardy%20Monument">here</a>. I said then that I would make a pilgrimage to the Real Thomas Hardy's monument on my next visit, but that was three years ago, and it took until today for me to realize my ambition. When we got to Higher Bockhampton, we made our way to the car park and saw that we could walk through the woods to the cottage in which Thomas Hardy was born. We did that; the path led uphill through a lovely, serene [if muddy] wood, then down, down to the cottage -- and, across the lane from the cottage, the monument I'd been seeking. This monument is about a tenth the size of the one honouring <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Thomas_Hardy,_1st_Baronet">Captain Hardy</a>, but it is tasteful, and when you've been looking for it for years, it looks pretty good.<br />
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As we walked through the woods, I thought about the fact that this was where Hardy wrote <i>Far from the Madding Crowd</i>, and where, I imagine, his world-view developed. This was the landscape that formed him. I found a tree that I dubbed the greenwood tree, though that was my own fancy. I don't know what particular tree, if any, Hardy had in mind -- <a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/under-the-greenwood-tree/">or Shakespeare, either</a>. I kept thinking: <i>Hardy walked here; Hardy stopped and took in this view.</i> <br />
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When we got back to the car, we drove just a few minutes to Dorchester, in search of the elusive Costa Coffee. We found it with no trouble at all, actually. The trick is to go to a town big enough to have one.<br />
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My next pilgrimage will be to <a href="http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/hardy-country/things-to-see-and-do/page-1/">Max Gate</a>, the house that Hardy designed. We were probably a couple of blocks from it today, but by the time we got to Dorchester, we were beginning to look at our watches. We wanted to get to Portland Bill, just for the view, and time was short -- so off we went. Max Gate will have to wait until next year.<br />
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Okay, then. Our trip continued: Dorchester to Winterborne to Weymouth to Portland. Up the hill and out to the point, from which, since the day was indeed clear, we could see forever.<br />
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We couldn't stay long, but we just had to see this view once before our holiday was over. After Portland, we retraced our steps as far as Bere Regis, then veered off through Wimborne Minster, Ferndown, Ringwood, Burley, and finally home to Lyndhurst.<br />
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I do love English place names.<br />
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Tomorrow, we'll turn in our rental car and take the train to Richmond, where we will spend the night with a friend who will take us to the airport on Monday. There might be a bit of silence here at the Turtle tomorrow, because our friend doesn't have a computer. (!) On the other hand, maybe I'll find my way to a Costa Coffee and post from there.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-84659395456989098972012-10-12T14:14:00.002-07:002012-10-12T14:14:27.743-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: blue;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Gliding through the Cotswolds</span></span></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></i></span>It did not rain today. Well, it sprinkled for a few minutes, late this afternoon, but for the most part we had bright sunshine. When David got the word that his glider flight was on, he called us; picked us up in Lyndhurst; and drove us all the way (about two hours) to Shenington in Oxfordshire, where we found <a href="http://www.shenington-gliding.co.uk/"> Shenington Gliding Club.</a> There was a brisk wind, but apparently that wasn't a problem. People had been gliding happily all morning, and now it was David's turn.<br />
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I half suspected that Robin would want to fly, but he was happy to stand with me and watch. David was given very thorough pre-flight instructions; then he donned a parachute, climbed into a glider with his instructor, and leapt into the sky. This club uses a powerful winch to get its gliders airborne. I had never seen that before, and I found it both exhilarating and a bit shocking to watch.<br />
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We understood that they would probably be in the air for about seven minutes, but in fact they stayed aloft for seventeen minutes, time enough to get a splendid view of the Oxfordshire countryside. I was shivering, so I went into the bus that serves as an office/waiting room, and I watched the glider wafting overhead. A few minutes later, I was still watching the glider when I happened to glance over to the field, and there was David, walking along, helping to guide the plane back into its parking place. I had been mistakenly watching the glider that took off a few minutes <i>after</i> David's did -- so I missed photographing his landing.<br />
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The photos I took, however, were definitely of David's plane. I was still standing outside at that time.<br />
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While I was waiting for the flight, I took a few photos of the surrounding countryside. David must have had a fabulous view from up in the sky.<br />
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When David landed, we drove back to the village of Wroxton and stopped at the hotel there to have a snack before we drove back to Hampshire. David and Sheila spent a couple of nights there back in the spring, when David tried unsuccessfully to take his glider flight. This was not the best of years for gliding -- until today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJYSVvHFpV2TK7VUJCe0zo3Z8-IBZ7YCL_k0Gz0UxlG4hLjEL8i0ekE6GO_2X8uJS3qFg18JVyKs_rTc3fwrwxQedxHeMoja7EB5EPlfTFdaJVDQdYJgCJmrSl9LI8P0eX1cmyg/s1600/DSCF1785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJYSVvHFpV2TK7VUJCe0zo3Z8-IBZ7YCL_k0Gz0UxlG4hLjEL8i0ekE6GO_2X8uJS3qFg18JVyKs_rTc3fwrwxQedxHeMoja7EB5EPlfTFdaJVDQdYJgCJmrSl9LI8P0eX1cmyg/s320/DSCF1785.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wroxton Best Western</td></tr>
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Believe it or not, this is a Best Western Hotel. We sat in a quiet lounge there; I drank green tea, ate a salad sandwich, and warmed up. Then we walked across the road to visit a thatched church -- the first of those I remember seeing, ever. It was a Roman Catholic church called St. Thomas of Canterbury, and its front door was open; so we went in.<br />
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It turned out to have beautiful stained glass windows; something that wasn't obvious from the outside.<br />
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Finally, we headed for home, rather dreading the Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. As it turned out, the traffic wasn't too bad, and we got back to Lyndhurst by dinnertime.<br />
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Tomorrow, we're expecting more good weather, so there may well be a trip to Dorset and another local football in our personal forecast.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-91083977709409401312012-10-11T15:09:00.002-07:002012-10-11T15:09:54.620-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKnw95I1YOFF4be1wT2ffbNlbNaJiWb-3lUJ1XdYHPtED-xhFseEBIeHEzlFns_sitEODL9CxPR5yMaG6nJC-fqBqalM7oBt5B8LZA1E-RETtk4hjfG7jmrdShgpj3QvXV45EmQ/s1600/DSCF1689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkKnw95I1YOFF4be1wT2ffbNlbNaJiWb-3lUJ1XdYHPtED-xhFseEBIeHEzlFns_sitEODL9CxPR5yMaG6nJC-fqBqalM7oBt5B8LZA1E-RETtk4hjfG7jmrdShgpj3QvXV45EmQ/s320/DSCF1689.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Something Old, Something New</span></span></span><br />
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I chose my title in reference to this photo; it depicts HMS Warrior and, behind that, the <a href="http://www.welcometoportsmouth.co.uk/spinnaker%20tower.html">Spinnaker Tower</a>; but I might just as well have named it <i>Robin Thursday</i>, because this was definitely Robin's day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhueWJeUzBBB3tB5p5Xe7sRn680lLvtm16ifCnzVyTaiN-4WP7eNtX0PXSimhBqxM5JpWyUqceoriCj1gsAe8WV-Nnxry46WanwVNojqMlmtF-yXTAUy8CRGprj9-gJGI8Y0ipXBw/s1600/DSCF1697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhueWJeUzBBB3tB5p5Xe7sRn680lLvtm16ifCnzVyTaiN-4WP7eNtX0PXSimhBqxM5JpWyUqceoriCj1gsAe8WV-Nnxry46WanwVNojqMlmtF-yXTAUy8CRGprj9-gJGI8Y0ipXBw/s320/DSCF1697.JPG" width="320" /></a>It was raining when we got up this morning, and we weren't quite sure what to do. In the end, we went to Portsmouth to tour the ships. When we got to the historic waterfront area, I immediately got testy, because I couldn't see a Costa Coffee Shop, and there was no way I was going to go looking at war ships without a cup of coffee in me. "Where's Costa?" I cried. "I need a Costa Coffee!" But there was no Costa to be seen -- until we gave up and went into the building where we had to buy our tickets, and there it was. We drank our coffee, bought our tickets, and found out that our admission price included a harbour tour. The boat was to leave in ten minutes, so we got into the queue right away. For the moment, it wasn't raining, so we thought we would seize that moment. It was a good thing we did. We had about a 40-minute window of dryness before the sky opened again, and the cruise was 50 minutes long.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOAOgjQy6jn4hdSzGQV9FdNdEWSarC0n5vXQgl1W1hB6BaJ5J5ejDdAMjFLRIvNqGpuctpxluve57F4uJzQi1VYjAhBb5W7p8N_VsOTj-bYGEZB2wsz5I-UBxjq43w8jjyHnvWQ/s1600/DSCF1707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOAOgjQy6jn4hdSzGQV9FdNdEWSarC0n5vXQgl1W1hB6BaJ5J5ejDdAMjFLRIvNqGpuctpxluve57F4uJzQi1VYjAhBb5W7p8N_VsOTj-bYGEZB2wsz5I-UBxjq43w8jjyHnvWQ/s320/DSCF1707.JPG" width="320" /></a>When we got off the tour boat, we scurried over to the<a href="http://www.maryrose.org/"> Mary Rose Museum</a>, where we found out that today was the 30th anniversary of the raising of the Mary Rose, Henry VIII's favourite ship. The museum is in a bit of a schmozzle right now, because there is a new museum under construction, and a lot of the exhibits have been moved over there. The new museum is a dome; it is being built around and over the hull of the Mary Rose, quite a bit of which is intact. We watched a film about the ship and about the archaeological work that has been done over the last thirty years; and we had a look at what exhibits there were. One that interested me was the display of pocket sundials. I had no idea there was ever such a thing as a pocket sundial, but by golly, there was.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW1vncYIIE3FD5ejH_aqT9OZt6_05o2IfEKL48bqLjZ-OFryU_aWioXLHdLk-ZaSI8rMKVdD36N_1PjPq8gYDQ6Mc6_VBhi_E0p6S-WkFmOUXVBDfIKINHMmJpvEfZ6f3_wq6vg/s1600/DSCF1720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW1vncYIIE3FD5ejH_aqT9OZt6_05o2IfEKL48bqLjZ-OFryU_aWioXLHdLk-ZaSI8rMKVdD36N_1PjPq8gYDQ6Mc6_VBhi_E0p6S-WkFmOUXVBDfIKINHMmJpvEfZ6f3_wq6vg/s200/DSCF1720.JPG" width="200" /></a>Next on our list was HMS Victory, which involved a slog through the rain. Once aboard, though, we were mostly dry. There is a plaque that marks the spot where Lord Nelson was standing when he was shot. My tour consisted of looking around, thinking [<i>gun gun gun gun]</i> Oh, look! A bucket. <i>[gun gun gun gun]</i> Oh, there's an officer's bed! <i>[gun gun gun gun]</i> Oh, my! Look at that writing desk.<br />
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I am not the best companion on tours of war ships. I pay attention to all the wrong stuff.<br />
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After walking through HMSVictory, we <strike>swam</strike> ran to HMS Warrior, a considerably newer, ironclad, steam/sail vessel. Again, there was some lovely china in the captain's quarters -- but my camera's batteries died suddenly, long before their time, so I don't have photos. (Next time, I'm going back to Eveready!) And by the time we finished that tour, even Robin had had enough of climbing up and down companionways while wearing water-soaked clothing. We drove home through a driving rainstorm on the M27, came gratefully into our hotel room, decorated its radiators with our various items of outerwear, and breathed great sighs of relief.<br />
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Later, we ventured out for a Chinese dinner down the street -- it had stopped raining, finally -- and still later, we went out to the pub with friends. The day ended a whole lot better than it started!<br />
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<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-77903036642363195452012-10-10T13:00:00.000-07:002012-10-10T13:00:10.184-07:00<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Cars, Ferries, Trains, and Even a Bicycle!</span></span></i><br />
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Today's adventure started with a drive through the New Forest to Hythe. We parked the car there and walked to the <a href="http://www.hytheferry.co.uk/">Hythe Ferry</a> terminal, which is just what we did on the day we were married. Again today we rode the little electric train from the terminal to the end of the 640-meter pier and boarded the ferry for the 10-12 minute ride to Southampton. On our wedding day, I made the trip in full wedding regalia, and I felt like royalty. Everybody wanted to wish me well and shake my hand. This time, I was dressed much less formally, but the trip was still fun. Robin and I sat in the second-to-last compartment on the train. Another couple sat in the last compartment, but there was no wall between us -- just different sets of wooden benches. When we were perhaps halfway down the pier, a man rode past us on a bicycle, only the top half of him visible; moving just barely faster than we were, so that he reminded us of the scene in<i> The Wizard of Oz</i> when the witch bicycles past Dorothy in the middle of the tornado. We burst out laughing. That was a great way to start our journey.<br />
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When we got off the ferry in Southampton, we immediately boarded the Isle of Wight ferry (the<i> slow</i> one) for the trip to <a href="http://www.cowes.co.uk/">Cowes</a>. That took about 50 minutes; I enjoyed reading my book along the way; when we got off, we discovered that we were in East Cowes. Oops. We really wanted to be in West Cowes. By land, we would have had to take a bus all the way to Newport, then back to Cowes, which would have taken at least an hour. It turned out that there is a chain ferry running from right beside the ferry terminal -- and it's free! So we boarded the chain ferry and rode across the open sea to West Cowes, a journey of about three minutes' duration.<br />
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We walked along the esplanade to Egypt Point; watching the birds, boats, and ships ply the water; huddling against a biting wind; keeping a watchful eye on the darkening sky. Along the way, we stopped to eat the pasties that we had bought down by the pier. I took pictures of everything except the pasties.<br />
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After a brief rest at the outward end of our walk, we turned around and walked back to the pier, caught the<i> fast</i> ferry, and rode back to Southampton in 25 minutes. This ride was much bouncier than the first one. I did not read. From there, it was another 10-12 minutes back to Hythe. When we got off the ferry, Robin rode the train back to the terminal, but I walked the length of the pier so that I could find the plank we had had carved. [I should explain that a sand dredge ran into the pier a few years ago -- a case of drunk driving -- and there was a campaign to raise funds for the repair of the pier. That's how we came to have a plank of our very own.]<br />
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A quick stop at Waitrose for groceries; another ride through the forest; and here we are, safe and sound in Lyndhurst.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-66830475489101256322012-10-09T12:26:00.000-07:002012-10-09T12:26:24.044-07:00<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;">A Day Off</span></span></span></b><br />
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Today was another family day. We didn't go to visit any cathedrals or cities, or do anything exciting, really -- just climbed into the car and went to Hythe in the rain, had a good long (and happy) chat, and came home in the rain. That being the case, I decided to take the day off from blogging. I mean, really, how much do you folks want to know about a day like that?<br />
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Then it occurred to me that this might be the time to display some photographs that didn't make it into the posts of the days on which they were taken (and probably some that did, but which I've forgotten posting).<br />
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So here goes:<br />
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First of all, here us one of the bridges<br />
that we encountered along the canal.<br />
The thing about these bridges is that they seem big when you're crossing them, but when you approach them in a boat, they appear to shrink, so that by the time you get to them, they're about the size of a can of soup. You may also notice that on one side, the tow path pokes out from the wall, giving you one more obstacle to avoid.<br />
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I seem to have a thing for reflections.<br />
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These poor horses were as wet as we were, but they had no central heating out in the field.<br />
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So were these guys, but they didn't seem to mind.<br />
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Sunshine!<br />
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St. Michael (Coventry Cathedral)<br />
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Rugby School<br />
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Rugby High Street (pedestrian mall)<br />
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Captain Robin<br />
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What a lovely day that was.<br />
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Driving in the New Forest is always an adventure<br />
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In St. Michael's Churchyard, Lyndhurst<br />
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And finally, this little video I shot on the Isle of Wight. I could have stood and watched the water for hours.<br />
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<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-62775224107917631572012-10-08T13:05:00.001-07:002012-10-08T13:13:19.048-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZt1QiMVsJufb6CHfPZYliVpNUjgpWusc_dUfWLiiziSMxtlVqUOFsWEz8mtP_vvlLVIR9Up7ENGnsddQK-SALeIu8sPWMwF7oOUfUQSNVlZjJW0KldNiooVU5W1yQGC8YeMXmQ/s1600/DSCF1557.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">History is now and England.</span></span></b></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><i>--- T.S. Eliot</i></b></span></span><br />
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I had forgotten that it was a visit to Salisbury Cathedral that sparked my interest in T.S. Eliot. Walking there again today I came upon the two memorial plaques bearing quotations from the <i>Four Quartets</i>, and once again I stood, entranced.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;"> "We die with the dying: See, they depart, and we go with them.We are born with the dead: See, they return, and bring us with them. The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree are of equal duration."</span></div>
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Of course, I must say that I did a lot of standing, entranced, today. This is how it happened: When we woke up, we were hoping to go watch David take a ride in a glider; he had an appointment to do that. But when we looked out the window, we knew that there would be no gliding. As you can tell from my exterior photograph of the cathedral, it rained. And it rained. And it rained. There were some moments of respite, but not many. Well, then, we said, what shall we do? We decided to go for a steam train ride on the Watercress Line -- but it doesn't run on Monday. Hmmm. Plan C. "I know!" said Robin. "Let's go to Salisbury." And off we went. [I triple-checked to be sure that I had the chip for my camera.]<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mary Magdalene" - Greg Tricker</td></tr>
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There was an art exhibit at the cathedral: wonderful stained glass, paintings, and sculptures by Greg Tricker. The show was called "Pillars of Faith". I don't imagine the artist would want me to reproduce all his work on my blog, but I must show you this one: it's Mary Magdalene. I have to share it with you because it made me laugh. No, not the sculpture itself: that was beautiful. It was what happened when I snapped the picture that was funny. I pushed the button; I heard a click; and then I saw a message come up on the screen. It read: BLINK DETECTED. I swear I heard the Twilight Zone theme.<br />
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I was drawn back repeatedly to the baptismal font. I didn't remember seeing it the last time I was at the cathedral. I kept leaning over it, using it as a mirror with which to see the ceiling and the windows. I finally located the dedication plaque and found out that the font was dedicated in 2008. I think that was about ten years after my previous visit. It is stunning.<br />
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After our first circuit, Robin and I had a cup of tea together in the refectory; then he headed over to a nearby military museum while I went back to stand, entranced, some more.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the refectory</td></tr>
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Some of what I saw was simply beautiful. Some was disturbing. I saw a plaque in memory of Caroline Luxford, who died in 1800 at the age of 29. Six weeks later, her baby died. It was her seventh child. I felt immeasurably lucky to live in<i> this</i> time. I also saw a gravestone dedicated to Thomas Lambert, who was born in May of 1683 and died in February of the same year. What? According to my guidebook, the calendar year at that time started March 25, rather than January 1.<br />
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I visited the Trinity Chapel, which is the oldest chapel in the cathedral; it was dedicated in 1225. Now, it features a modern window dedicated to prisoners of conscience, and the Amnesty Candle burns in one corner.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZt1QiMVsJufb6CHfPZYliVpNUjgpWusc_dUfWLiiziSMxtlVqUOFsWEz8mtP_vvlLVIR9Up7ENGnsddQK-SALeIu8sPWMwF7oOUfUQSNVlZjJW0KldNiooVU5W1yQGC8YeMXmQ/s1600/DSCF1557.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZt1QiMVsJufb6CHfPZYliVpNUjgpWusc_dUfWLiiziSMxtlVqUOFsWEz8mtP_vvlLVIR9Up7ENGnsddQK-SALeIu8sPWMwF7oOUfUQSNVlZjJW0KldNiooVU5W1yQGC8YeMXmQ/s320/DSCF1557.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I took fifty-five photos today, most of them inside the cathedral. That's the kind of day I had.<br />
When Robin came back from the military museum, we walked to the Chapter House to pay a visit to one of the four remaining original copies of the Magna Carta. I wasn't allowed to use my camera there. As we walked back to the car, I took a few shots, including one that I think is my favourite of the day.<br />
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Tomorrow will be another family day. I'm looking forward to that.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-44784272147663332932012-10-07T13:02:00.000-07:002012-10-07T13:02:28.481-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: purple;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sandra Sunday*</span></span></b></i></span><br />
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Today, it seems, is my day. I've been calling all the shots.<br />
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"What would you like to do?" asked Robin.<br />
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"Really? My for-real wish list? Well. I would like to go to Romsey Abbey for the ten o'clock service; to Winchester Cathedral for Evensong; and somewhere along the line, to The Queen's Head [pub] in Burley." I specified The Queen's Head because I know that they have a vegan menu, as well as standard pub fare: I learned that useful fact at<a href="http://www.happycow.net/reviews.php?id=26531"> HappyCow.net</a>, and I called the pub a few days ago to confirm.<br />
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That reminds me: We went into Costa Coffee in Romsey after the 10:00 service. Robin took a seat while I ordered our coffee: two cappuccinos; one with cow milk, the other with soy. When the young man (who, by the way, like all the staff, wore a button that read "I was made to love you" -- who could resist that?) finished making Robin's coffee, he asked, "Was that, uh, chocolate on the normal one and cinnamon on the soy?" "Yes," I replied, "though I take exception to the word <i>normal</i>." He was so embarrassed, he got all stammery, and I had to assure him that I had been joking (sort of). What was I to do? There was that button...<br />
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But I am getting ahead of myself. Because I was going to church, I left my camera in the hotel room. Silly me. What about the four and a half hours between services? What about the leaves changing colour in the woods near Ampfield? What about the pasty shop in Winchester where we carried our tea and pasties up the stairs to a room with a ceiling so low, I had to duck; and drank our tea while sitting at a casement window, looking out over the pedestrian mall, looking<i> into</i> the 15th Century <a href="http://www.cityofwinchester.co.uk/history/html/buttercross.html">Buttercross</a>? [If you click on the link, you'll see the cross itself and a Tudor building behind it. That's where we were sitting.]<br />
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On the other hand, I wandered all through Winchester Cathedral, stopping to allow other people to take photographs, taking none myself, lingering at Jane Austen's grave, studying windows and statues, thoroughly enjoying myself. People asked me for directions, something that doesn't happen when I have a camera slung around my neck. Not that I could help them.<br />
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The 10:00 service at Romsey Abbey was a Harvest Thanksgiving service. The 3:30 service at Winchester turned out not to be Evensong, after all. We must have been here on the same Sunday last year, because once again, there was no Evensong. There was the Harvest Festival. So I got to sing <i>All Creatures of Our God and King</i> twice today, which was great. On the other hand, I didn't get to sit in the quire. On the other other hand, I did get to gaze up at the arches, which is getting to be one of my favourite pastimes.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robin: All Dressed Up</td></tr>
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So. Several hours and two services later, I was just about as holy as I was going to get. We headed back to Lyndhurst and stopped at the hotel long enough for Robin to change into his dress clothes before we headed to Burley for dinner. (We were both feeling unwell on our anniversary, so instead of going out to dinner, we holed up in our hotel room and went to sleep early. Tonight's dinner was our belated anniversary celebration.)<br />
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While we were at the hotel, I grabbed my camera, so that tonight's blog entry wouldn't have to go completely naked. First, I snapped a photo of Robin standing in the hotel's courtyard. Then we drove to Burley and I took several photos of the pub.<br />
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The pub. This is the Restaurant Review segment of tonight's entry. Our dinners were very good. I have no complaint about the dinners themselves, but I do have a suggestion for the owners of the pub: Perhaps they could buy a stick of green chalk and <span style="color: lime;">write the vegan dishes in green</span>, to save confusion. It took three people three trips back to the kitchen to find out which dishes were for-sure vegan and which ones might be vegan...I settled on vegetable fajitas, one of the two for-sure vegan dishes. [Robin ordered a fish dinner that was very good.] The thing is, when my vegetables arrived, sizzling, on a cast iron plate, they came with a side plate on which sat several tortillas along with little ramekins of guacamole, tomato salsa...and sour cream and shredded cheese.<br />
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Can you hear the raucous buzzer?<br />
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"I won't be needing these, thank you," I said. Once again, I was faced with an embarrassed waiter. This one grabbed the ramekins and sped away, leaving a trail of apologies in his wake. It was no big deal -- all I had to do was send away two little bowls -- but really. This was supposed to be one of the for-sures. It's labeled "vegan option" on the menu board. <br />
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On yet another hand (this is the last hand -- I promise), this is the only place where I've even seen the word "vegan" on the menu since we arrived in Hampshire, so I'm not really complaining -- just shaking my head and making <span style="color: lime;">one gentle suggestion</span>. I did enjoy my dinner, and I would go back to The Queen's Head.<br />
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*It was Robin that called this <i>Sandra Sunday</i>. He wants copyright protection. Okay. Post title Copyright Robin Leigh.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-78091280099221895072012-10-06T16:08:00.001-07:002012-10-06T16:08:25.561-07:00<i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We won!</span></span></b></i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3-0</td></tr>
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Well, I'm using the term "we" rather loosely here. We (Robin and I) attended a football game with David and Sheila; their local team [Verwood] won; we were told in no uncertain terms which team to support, and support them we did. Another fan suggested after the game that David should bring his Canadian relatives around more often. Apparently we brought the team good luck. We were in Cranborne, Dorset. While the men played football, I half watched the game, half looked over the heads of the players at the lovely, rolling countryside.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sky was as beautiful as the forest .</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnH4qc3iwcc2R520BDveY8PXqIOInd-RMO5Pc3Oh9VfQTQWwUxBdVsiEfUc8oU6z6kPxQVBp4jT9Dh7qt1YkKuhEJ4dA0Bnta2U98uH5_PcW11C3RkSgawx7lni3eTxST7iFXEw/s1600/DSCF1478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnH4qc3iwcc2R520BDveY8PXqIOInd-RMO5Pc3Oh9VfQTQWwUxBdVsiEfUc8oU6z6kPxQVBp4jT9Dh7qt1YkKuhEJ4dA0Bnta2U98uH5_PcW11C3RkSgawx7lni3eTxST7iFXEw/s320/DSCF1478.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">well --<i> almost</i> as beautiful.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Before the game began, I took a walk around the village; the leaves were beginning to change colour, but I found a cottage garden that still clung to summer. The nights are cool now, so perhaps we will have a chance to see autumn arrive in its full splendour before we leave England.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ASHYGROTiEYuCOhLi5l6cmHLs8F1O5xZsTKjMOWnznrZW_3OxFMWw4uvFX9Xve-4eoCMHGyoUy0dTrP6ErEKVLvvIGgWYsytW-xwI2gOi0nLSS2g1Pye_Lpj83B3D3PkCMWXmg/s1600/DSCF1513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ASHYGROTiEYuCOhLi5l6cmHLs8F1O5xZsTKjMOWnznrZW_3OxFMWw4uvFX9Xve-4eoCMHGyoUy0dTrP6ErEKVLvvIGgWYsytW-xwI2gOi0nLSS2g1Pye_Lpj83B3D3PkCMWXmg/s320/DSCF1513.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, it was that kind of party.</td></tr>
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After the game, we went to David and Sheila's for a Leigh-extended-family party. I'm tired, but I'm still grinning. I had a wonderful time.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-62346083583382469662012-10-05T11:08:00.000-07:002012-10-05T11:08:49.670-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3bNOGeOFtiX86qQD27ZeM4VlaWSODcO-mBOrOs9hIj4YrUt-drvK_LbKlshFSiV71vwu9Hcqda69VTeRKvYZAcArmjzTCDKdtyeC5Ua4Ryk8ssrUh6NU_6eJcTg861EUKtJqsg/s1600/DSCF1464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3bNOGeOFtiX86qQD27ZeM4VlaWSODcO-mBOrOs9hIj4YrUt-drvK_LbKlshFSiV71vwu9Hcqda69VTeRKvYZAcArmjzTCDKdtyeC5Ua4Ryk8ssrUh6NU_6eJcTg861EUKtJqsg/s400/DSCF1464.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"> Unexpected Pleasures</span></b></i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDRDNf_-HO49jyxEuTYzmptLHmjbVgpfFKaOIXbjwKW80l39-SMIqLV1hnv_kbUQMHfG_5c_siSFLTkJXZZ03uhQfzuqsDykOHWasC2ui3F6V406h44By480ctpW5hrbfhNwM3w/s1600/DSCF1466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDRDNf_-HO49jyxEuTYzmptLHmjbVgpfFKaOIXbjwKW80l39-SMIqLV1hnv_kbUQMHfG_5c_siSFLTkJXZZ03uhQfzuqsDykOHWasC2ui3F6V406h44By480ctpW5hrbfhNwM3w/s320/DSCF1466.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swanage</td></tr>
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Our plans changed today, mostly because we had some unexpected sunshine. All the weather reports we had seen called for rain, so we were thinking of heading to Southampton and going to the movies. When we got up, though, the sun was shining, and it seemed like a shame to waste such a lovely day indoors -- so we drove to Lymington and took the <a href="http://www.lymington.org/boattrips/sandbanksferry.html">chain ferry</a> to Swanage. There, we caught the<a href="http://www.swanagerailway.co.uk/"> train</a> for a trip to<a href="http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/corfe-castle/"> Corfe Castle</a> and back. We planned to take the steam train, but it wasn't running today, so we took the diesel train instead. The scenery was lovely, and our conductor was delightful. It seems that his paternal grandfather was a Canadian soldier stationed over here during WWI, so he was curious about things Canadian, and when I was leaving the train, he called out "Good-bye, Cousin!"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipabhgw1FuYdGRNfIp1MqTfcppzzJsRPIRd9hb14sQ3i_HmV1J5Nem-Qd_YP7pKsF9Ku_CKFHm5WaO7Ud_3xlXL2Qw1XdquBf2L_qmTOKvZ4tCqWAv9C2pyNNjkC7uxRH25XYRbw/s1600/DSCF1462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipabhgw1FuYdGRNfIp1MqTfcppzzJsRPIRd9hb14sQ3i_HmV1J5Nem-Qd_YP7pKsF9Ku_CKFHm5WaO7Ud_3xlXL2Qw1XdquBf2L_qmTOKvZ4tCqWAv9C2pyNNjkC7uxRH25XYRbw/s320/DSCF1462.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">station poster (and a bit of the station master)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDI9Sir7lQdt2ZUtZQO7U_is0XltB8958ZlDPto_2tuTicEarCpOXyUikh_OsRg9hNTVRfHdoZR2WO7LalI-rdYP4kWeeBx-CX-LtXeTfXHxh5SuZdUxrsI8wK5go1sA7fN11-A/s1600/DSCF1458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDI9Sir7lQdt2ZUtZQO7U_is0XltB8958ZlDPto_2tuTicEarCpOXyUikh_OsRg9hNTVRfHdoZR2WO7LalI-rdYP4kWeeBx-CX-LtXeTfXHxh5SuZdUxrsI8wK5go1sA7fN11-A/s320/DSCF1458.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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After our train ride, we picked up our car and drove back to Corfe Castle for a cup of tea before heading back to Lyndhurst. We had to hurry a bit, on the way home, because the sky had begun to fall. By the time we got home, it was well and truly pouring out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqVW2Cp4VXc0B0Ne8YXfVChJoBEfU3gQpHzdi__1sZAFa6dYOw1-8OcMtMELvD0uQfmHOjkMLU9Kxrbco42VNIajl-cLFrHhDycZWMtS7iqPYJoetspDWZoTi29niraSVzCR4rQ/s1600/DSCF1461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqVW2Cp4VXc0B0Ne8YXfVChJoBEfU3gQpHzdi__1sZAFa6dYOw1-8OcMtMELvD0uQfmHOjkMLU9Kxrbco42VNIajl-cLFrHhDycZWMtS7iqPYJoetspDWZoTi29niraSVzCR4rQ/s320/DSCF1461.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corfe Castle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The forecast for the weekend seems to be improving, which is a good thing. We're to attend a football match in Dorset tomorrow, and I would like good weather for that. I'm sure the players would be on my side, too. <br />
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<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-72855783000546520042012-10-04T12:44:00.000-07:002012-10-04T12:44:13.139-07:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjSx6W8DRZ7hvUITTYugcvgj11QHENYlE-Dj8DRIwOUB4S4XmmLNPQg1jzvaJHkONXOjk1Y89P59mjSFWIDGILEbwdz9TJLD1ZrDaA6C-dN1v2rCpd_kqzK12U6uOlBamxe0_vA/s1600/DSCF1395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjSx6W8DRZ7hvUITTYugcvgj11QHENYlE-Dj8DRIwOUB4S4XmmLNPQg1jzvaJHkONXOjk1Y89P59mjSFWIDGILEbwdz9TJLD1ZrDaA6C-dN1v2rCpd_kqzK12U6uOlBamxe0_vA/s320/DSCF1395.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the ferry</td></tr>
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<i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was not too dim!</span></span></span></i><br />
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In fact, the sun was shining, the temperature was just right for walking; it was a perfect day to go to the Isle of Wight, so that is what we did. (We didn't rent a cottage, though.) We have taken several long walks on the island in years past. Now, we've scaled down our ambitions, but we still want to feel the sun on our heads and smell the ocean.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4NXgUHG06m3JdKDqWEXnr4-W8HR2Zui-BrCIUy3Hv6g2mOVOx_bTrvKeTA8eXScMzQiwP3MT6Afsa9gu-HY6N6gfxxNzkyBGxbdN2_74m5BQZ78Mv_m3g1IUuKVpJkG1w6rX2A/s1600/DSCF1400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4NXgUHG06m3JdKDqWEXnr4-W8HR2Zui-BrCIUy3Hv6g2mOVOx_bTrvKeTA8eXScMzQiwP3MT6Afsa9gu-HY6N6gfxxNzkyBGxbdN2_74m5BQZ78Mv_m3g1IUuKVpJkG1w6rX2A/s320/DSCF1400.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shanklin, IOW</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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Accordingly, we drove from Lyndhurst to Lymington, took the IOW Ferry to Yarmouth, the #7 bus to Newport, and the #2 bus to Shanklin. We stopped for lunch in a lovely restaurant on the beach. Then we walked from Shanklin to Sandown (an hour) along the promenade, caught the #8 bus to Newport, the #7 bus to Yarmouth, the IOW Ferry back to Lymington; then we drove into Lymington Town Centre, picked up the makings of a cold supper, and drove home to Lyndhurst.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oX47Rf6V84CfZ9ZCJyX2U2yXEXUXXg64tIZumRxvrQAEDgBlNe_r9h61O559RL4M-sYlkyYkMlLUoZ8e3dEtgAn0RbCSkzc50nu_cD9OZzW6fxx81BJYxdyFoufFZK7aAx7V9g/s1600/DSCF1410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oX47Rf6V84CfZ9ZCJyX2U2yXEXUXXg64tIZumRxvrQAEDgBlNe_r9h61O559RL4M-sYlkyYkMlLUoZ8e3dEtgAn0RbCSkzc50nu_cD9OZzW6fxx81BJYxdyFoufFZK7aAx7V9g/s320/DSCF1410.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The chine</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaC7jaI8-YjMTtRTMNeg48WLBXw0WcJP5aHs_BcCSWRRGD33duLg2xJLgqfTC8q0Yi8hpO_VJLA8gsGuSsdsATcqKtjUimrUcyFaR-BZzuuPH2uWvfZxw7pQ28pwS6BAxQVKRdWg/s1600/DSCF1415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaC7jaI8-YjMTtRTMNeg48WLBXw0WcJP5aHs_BcCSWRRGD33duLg2xJLgqfTC8q0Yi8hpO_VJLA8gsGuSsdsATcqKtjUimrUcyFaR-BZzuuPH2uWvfZxw7pQ28pwS6BAxQVKRdWg/s320/DSCF1415.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robin at the luncheon spot</td></tr>
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The Isle of Wight is a beautiful, romantic place, a happy place. Fortunately, I had remembered
not only my camera, but all its accoutrements, so I could take
photographs. After the first half hour, I stopped taking a picture every ten feet. I think Robin was grateful. <br />
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The tide was high enough that waves splashed up onto the promenade at times. It was fresh and exciting, and I'm so glad we decided to seize the day.<br />
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So, here we are, snug (and smug) in our room, very happy to be sitting down -- especially so because after a glorious day, it rained while we were shopping in Lymington. We have heard that tomorrow promises to be wet, so we're planning on taking in a movie in Southampton, provided that there are matinees on Fridays.<br />
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But first, we will try to stay awake long enough to watch the new <i>Red Dwarf</i>, which is coming on at 9:00 p.m., half an hour from now. We can but try.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7HmTIlbcbu0wsIkVE7sMmSlyJibjMNjBnMXowJSNn-FE6MKQqb98OQZl526T-uBi3DCpQOA72rqPrvMAf5KZhwOLBjERJZ53P5LevWaBnXVEITqEWkGkV7hRy_xA0BeJMeqmNg/s1600/DSCF1421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH7HmTIlbcbu0wsIkVE7sMmSlyJibjMNjBnMXowJSNn-FE6MKQqb98OQZl526T-uBi3DCpQOA72rqPrvMAf5KZhwOLBjERJZ53P5LevWaBnXVEITqEWkGkV7hRy_xA0BeJMeqmNg/s320/DSCF1421.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me in front, St. Boniface Down in the background</td></tr>
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I almost hate to have the television on, because for some reason, the church bells at St. Michael's are going berserk. They've been pealing away merrily for well over half an hour, now. I can't see any lights in the nave, or anywhere but in the bell tower. Robin suggests that Quasimodo has found his way to Lyndhurst.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-73489351863426561162012-10-03T09:54:00.002-07:002012-10-03T09:56:29.996-07:00<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Traveling for Dummies</span></span><br />
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The first time I visited England, I was here for three weeks. At the end of the holiday, on the way back to Heathrow, I saw a sign advertising an upcoming performance. I believe it was to take place the following weekend. It was Bizet's<i> Carmen</i>, to be performed in the <a href="http://www.gardenvisit.com/garden/mottisfont_abbey_garden">rose garden</a> at <a href="http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/mottisfont/">Mottisfont Abbey</a>. I was crushed. If I had thought it possible to convince British Airways to postpone our flight, I would have made the effort, but somehow I didn't think they would go for it, so, regretfully, I went back home. Ever since that visit, <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=mottisfont+images&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=SVT&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=821sULikGsnUtAbRloHoDA&ved=0CCEQsAQ&biw=911&bih=421">I have wanted to visit Mottisfont</a>, and today I got my wish.<br />
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On the way to Mottisfont, I said to Robin, "Before we get there, I need to buy batteries for my camera." Dutifully, he drove me into Romsey. I went to a newsagent and picked up four AA batteries. When we got to the car park, I took the batteries out of their package, removed the old batteries from my camera, and noticed that there was something missing. I had left the memory card in my laptop, back at the hotel. Hence, as you might have already noticed, there are no photographs of Mottisfont. There are, however, links -- like<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mottisfont_Abbey"> this one</a> and the ones in the first paragraph, which will probably give you a better idea of the grandeur of Mottisfont than anything I could have provided. Also, I probably saw the priory and grounds differently, for better or worse, without a camera in front of my face. Nonetheless, there were moments when I truly regretted my forgetfulness -- like when there was a butterfly posed fetchingly against a brilliant flower, or when I was looking down into the <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=Test+River&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=Yen&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=imvnsa&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=JmZsUM3mOIjKswaKxICACw&ved=0CDYQsAQ&biw=911&bih=421">River Test</a>, which flows through the grounds. I stood on a footbridge and watched dozens of rainbow trout swim in place above a gravelly stream bed. Aquatic plants with long, grassy leaves waved with the motion of the water. The Test is a chalk stream, and I gather that chalk is a wonderful filter. As a result, the water is so clear as to be virtually invisible, except for its movement against objects under the surface.<br />
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There was an art exhibit going on inside the priory. The theme was Water, and many of the drawings and paintings were inspired by the Test and the various streams around Mottisfont. There was one painting, though, that made us do a double-take. It depicted a Mars water bomber on Sproat Lake -- on Vancouver Island!<br />
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Shortly after we arrived, there was a scheduled talk about the history of Mottisfont, so we joined a dozen or so other people in listening to a tiny woman with a large voice, who told us that the first record of Mottisfont comes from the year 860 (if I remember correctly), when there was a village on the site. The village was called Mortesfunde, which meant "gathering place by the font". The font is a spring which is still flowing today. She traced the history of the site from village to priory to Tudor house to Georgian mansion, and described the work of its 20th Century owners, <a href="http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/history/view-page/item539543/263572/">Gilbert and Maud Russell</a>. Maud Russell was an avid art collector, and she transformed Mottisfont into the showpiece that it is today. She donated the property to the National Trust in 1957, but continued to live there for fifteen years more.<br />
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We spent a couple of hours wandering happily through the gardens. The next time I visit Mottisfont (and I hope there will be a next time -- preferably when the best of the roses are in bloom), I will be sure to take my camera. And batteries. And a memory card.<br />
<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-63828000099211419862012-10-02T12:07:00.000-07:002012-10-02T12:07:03.711-07:00<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our Beautiful Launderette </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTir5ustquO1DCVS0RWA2Mk0KvmGB9APoxEUCvSC1GEQ8ongeZCAPDvM9jalYJIfbhfvwkVf4uqjjho3WcNrPcNnWj60brsVfF3-_GRWJcXozDcqXVn9AN5dfLYU2HkY57PajzA/s320/DSCF1389.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11 New Street, Lymington</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN01z7zRV_j4mKs-yE_BIHRvo3x1oINUjD62ilrg83AuLcgRNIuDab3us0nicGNYS0Ae0SfSMiH1-4uI2Cr6nAOecp0_10f9ooUYdRhg7L6wNRL4myYt554x2MPuSUL1v8-J6P5w/s1600/DSCF1382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN01z7zRV_j4mKs-yE_BIHRvo3x1oINUjD62ilrg83AuLcgRNIuDab3us0nicGNYS0Ae0SfSMiH1-4uI2Cr6nAOecp0_10f9ooUYdRhg7L6wNRL4myYt554x2MPuSUL1v8-J6P5w/s320/DSCF1382.JPG" width="320" /></a>Kathryn left today, but not before she and I went over to the church again and found Alice's grave. We also discovered a bit of a mystery. Kathryn said that when she got up this morning, the two clocks on the church steeple were synchronized, but an hour later, one of them had fallen quite far behind -- something close to half an hour. Later, they were synchronized again, but not for long. I witnessed the phenomenon myself. I suggested that perhaps one of the clocks has a lazy minute hand. Since we didn't know whom to ask about it, we decided to leave it in the realm of mystery. (The floors in our hotel creak most dramatically, and our wardrobe doors keep coming open, both of which phenomena we have attributed, tongue in cheek, to a ghost -- so perhaps our ghost wanders over to the church once in a while, just for fun.) Shrugging our shoulders, we walked down the street and spent a few minutes in an antique shop that we had noticed yesterday, and then we said our good-byes -- until next year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_q1v1iQlBB9dlrJFY_lH_5UBN1FBPJo0NADL4GkokUOLGHeAKwy9Jcaa7U-_RcMKGPmuAHCl1uQbcJp9TJM6ZBo5_BqVpdMNYwfNyUMOg-ZtcJh2DnS7Htmvd34LGgfk8S6wH5Q/s1600/DSCF1388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_q1v1iQlBB9dlrJFY_lH_5UBN1FBPJo0NADL4GkokUOLGHeAKwy9Jcaa7U-_RcMKGPmuAHCl1uQbcJp9TJM6ZBo5_BqVpdMNYwfNyUMOg-ZtcJh2DnS7Htmvd34LGgfk8S6wH5Q/s540/DSCF1388.JPG" width="540" /></a><br />
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Now. You think I'm kidding about the beautiful launderette, right? I'm not. I lost track of how long it took us to find the launderette, how many miles we drove. It seemed like such a simple thing. We had over two weeks' worth of laundry. We could have had it washed at (by) the hotel, but that would have involved a bank loan -- 6 pounds for a pair of jeans, 6 pounds for pajamas, one pound-fifty for each pair of socks, etc.. So we decided to go to a launderette. There was no launderette in Lyndhurst, so we went to Romsey. There was no launderette in Romsey, so we came home for lunch. Then we went to Brockenhurst. There was no launderette in Brockenhurst, so we went to Lymington, and there we found this beautiful launderette. Little more than an hour later, we had three bags full of clean laundry. It was a miracle -- or, at least, it felt like one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLb8E7UO3a3C3QBQkxY2wMhyphenhyphenkN57OkCNxqDfiC3DUCnWljgbehL5a1nTNc9trpY8V_pFIJRa8RHqpNohB6c9golnD1uRH1UW9Kr5FWEqEs0PTb51z2FnFp8uZGYhbyOPMdeIGADg/s1600/DSCF1392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLb8E7UO3a3C3QBQkxY2wMhyphenhyphenkN57OkCNxqDfiC3DUCnWljgbehL5a1nTNc9trpY8V_pFIJRa8RHqpNohB6c9golnD1uRH1UW9Kr5FWEqEs0PTb51z2FnFp8uZGYhbyOPMdeIGADg/s320/DSCF1392.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
As long as we were way over in Lymington, we decided to go see the sea again, so we drove to Keyhaven. Several times along the way, we had a look at the angry sea. It didn't look the least bit inviting. When we got to Keyhaven, though, we found this amazing man. He was kite surfing. When we first saw him, he was creating such a spray, we thought he was on some sort of powered board, so we stopped to see what it was. As we watched, he suddenly shot up out of the water and flew past us, then landed on the water again and sped off, powered, as we could now see, only by the very strong wind. I tried for about ten minutes to catch a shot of him when he was airborne, but I couldn't do it. My camera (or the photographer) simply wasn't fast enough.<br />
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Now we're back at home, tired, spending a quiet evening.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-22948573538300037212012-10-01T13:57:00.003-07:002012-10-01T14:06:10.637-07:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGE2H6URPbyVGQfkdDftHjXiMjWs6vYjr8D66XOvVEh0t6De-qox23wj5ze0IC0E7nBEapBT50zg2YeA0v9KKHpUH_Mxxt_AF8gbBfIXvcZ3nPDSTYy2cyt4nMl-QYsMlzFJxAw/s1600/DSCF1378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGE2H6URPbyVGQfkdDftHjXiMjWs6vYjr8D66XOvVEh0t6De-qox23wj5ze0IC0E7nBEapBT50zg2YeA0v9KKHpUH_Mxxt_AF8gbBfIXvcZ3nPDSTYy2cyt4nMl-QYsMlzFJxAw/s320/DSCF1378.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rhinefield House</td></tr>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Turtle in Wonderland</span></span></span><br />
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Two major events today: First of all, my fictive cousin Kathryn arrived from Oxford, booked into our hotel, and spent the day with me. Second, we got a car! It's amazing how much easier it is to get around when you have one of those.<br />
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Kathryn arrived around eleven o'clock, just about the time that Robin and David left to rent us a car. She and I went to Costa Coffee and did some catching up over cappuccinos. Then we walked up the hill to <a href="http://www.astoft2.co.uk/hants/lyndhurst.htm">St. Michael & All Angels</a>. One of the lovely things about being with Kathryn is that she knows things (and I say that with all respect. I am in awe.). Today, I learned just a bit about pre-Raphaelite art from someone who lives in Oxford, the centre of the pre-Raphaelite art world. When I come away from a visit with Kathryn, I always want to learn more.We went into the church to have a little look around, and well over an hour later, we were still scurrying around, looking for the angel holding a fishing rod (We did find him eventually. He was hiding on the ceiling above the chancel.), examining the windows, having a wonderful time. We did intend to find where <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Liddell">Alice Hargreaves </a>is buried, but it turned out that her grave is out in the churchyard, and we ran out of time. I'm hoping that we can get over there again tomorrow morning before Kathryn has to leave.<br />
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When Robin and David had returned, and David had gone on his way, there ensued a book hunt. We drove to Brockenhurst in search of a bookstore, got tied up in traffic, and ended up driving to Lymington, ostensibly to go to Waterstone's. But when we got to Lymington and parked the car, we saw an OXFAM shop, and we ended up buying our books there. I found, and bought, a copy of <i>Eats, Shoots and Leaves</i>. I never knew, until today, that the book came with a DIY punctuation repair kit. Who could resist that? I now have a supply of apostrophes, and I know how to use them!<br />
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From the high street, we detoured briefly to the harbour, so that Kathryn could see the sea. We watched the Isle of Wight ferry coming and going, took a little walk along the shore, then drove out of town, got a bit turned around, and found ourselves back at <a href="http://southernlife.org.uk/rhinefie.htm">Rhinefield House</a>, which we had seen for the first time just yesterday, when David took us there. Kathryn had never seen the house, so we drove in and pretended to be eccentric millionaires for a few minutes.<br />
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Back in Lyndhurst, we enjoyed a pub dinner at the Fox & Hounds, chatted for a while longer, then went our separate ways. It has been an altogether satisfying day.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-61862728907950090472012-09-30T13:32:00.000-07:002012-09-30T13:32:27.463-07:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6RYmEcpnPI1L-FfdfYLrW8NjwLwMDrz3rmtuoRJKz8w3UjUp7DWZLO6B7UIXFcD6KsNmXxIsNdvaNFWUNrkViOR27EM3DW5kfN_NRKhZQW2zHixLILlkn0EMe9XfbSj1UB4rmmA/s1600/DSCF1364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6RYmEcpnPI1L-FfdfYLrW8NjwLwMDrz3rmtuoRJKz8w3UjUp7DWZLO6B7UIXFcD6KsNmXxIsNdvaNFWUNrkViOR27EM3DW5kfN_NRKhZQW2zHixLILlkn0EMe9XfbSj1UB4rmmA/s320/DSCF1364.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calshot Castle</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Out and About in Hampshire</span></span></b></span><br />
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David and Sheila picked us up this morning and took us out for the day. We drove to Calshot, one of our favourite haunts. Robin and I both love walking out there. I tend to have a camera attached to my face much of the time. Robin loves watching the ships coming in and out of Southampton.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LBGiianzhuQ0_27uxOzOVe-j17MxeQ4AuZkAWZtlrkSc4fFdwbUzAalqmkBMkelMhLl-Do2aWlra7nWTtgmLZy9Ne2Bn-pGr_jMyt7-1VWL_aQaMOQvES7DlseFAXAQwPyWujQ/s1600/DSCF1372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1LBGiianzhuQ0_27uxOzOVe-j17MxeQ4AuZkAWZtlrkSc4fFdwbUzAalqmkBMkelMhLl-Do2aWlra7nWTtgmLZy9Ne2Bn-pGr_jMyt7-1VWL_aQaMOQvES7DlseFAXAQwPyWujQ/s320/DSCF1372.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Although David and Sheila had been to Calshot before, they hadn't been inside the recreation centre. The centre makes use of an aircraft hangar<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RAF_Calshot"> that once housed flying boats.</a><br />
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At one end, there is a cycle track; at the other, children slide down ski hills in inner tubes or on sleds. In the centre, there are climbing walls of various heights, some of which are dizzying. All four of us watched the children playing and started talking about our various grandchildren and how much they would love the place.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJPogr0bIo_O6KQHCT2Nn8yq0GW5Wi1H1bAugpUIN7zsSrrEwX4UuKRc26MxJNSseciR-ZNtHgb5y5op63TdubElClzHWWwxyrmSmiOXaWW_LhR6wv2paY4dnOrzVo0TBGkCOpg/s1600/DSCF1376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJPogr0bIo_O6KQHCT2Nn8yq0GW5Wi1H1bAugpUIN7zsSrrEwX4UuKRc26MxJNSseciR-ZNtHgb5y5op63TdubElClzHWWwxyrmSmiOXaWW_LhR6wv2paY4dnOrzVo0TBGkCOpg/s320/DSCF1376.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
When we left the recreation centre, the wind had got up and it was turning cool, so we climbed into the car and set off without any firm destination. Then somebody mentioned Lepe, so off we went toward Lepe, down a road that I think was a new one to all of us. All of a sudden, there was a lighthouse. David had to pull over and let me get out. I managed not to get run over, and I got this shot.<br />
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Eventually, we fetched up at the <a href="http://www.greendragonbedbreakfast.co.uk/">Green Dragon Pub </a>near Cadnam. There, we had a fabulous dinner. Mine was a wild mushroom and asparagus pie, with roast potatoes, Brussels sprouts, turnips (swedes, says Sheila), carrots, and broccoli in side dishes.<br />
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Oh, yes, and there was the pecan tart.<br />
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Several pounds heavier, we're back at the hotel now, having had a wonderful day.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-47297128511483334812012-09-29T12:33:00.002-07:002012-09-29T12:33:22.540-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiex1u1Grn-qCk1VJFMlY5tqNT6vrDOmhzW_VpzVmfvNVMmpPY0D8gcat5Cl4FZ700nWLEq2fTml2xeMTr-b-xq01y0vt9oJEtU6zyr1l6Dcg22oxuEm-y7TksDikowK6i2fLag/s1600/DSCF1348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiex1u1Grn-qCk1VJFMlY5tqNT6vrDOmhzW_VpzVmfvNVMmpPY0D8gcat5Cl4FZ700nWLEq2fTml2xeMTr-b-xq01y0vt9oJEtU6zyr1l6Dcg22oxuEm-y7TksDikowK6i2fLag/s320/DSCF1348.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The New Forest Pub in Ashurst (next to the railway station)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiat-53DcUoKpYP7OdMB50sFComW2FBcxxqJf5qKwHNUT-3FUiqxfG_Vk8iSyjhocOuF4rAJC0E1A3GhCQoOAJJ825h1mFFj16m0jFnDi-5AUV_5yJsya-l8BShHYvsvw_ZEeCMjQ/s1600/DSCF1352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiat-53DcUoKpYP7OdMB50sFComW2FBcxxqJf5qKwHNUT-3FUiqxfG_Vk8iSyjhocOuF4rAJC0E1A3GhCQoOAJJ825h1mFFj16m0jFnDi-5AUV_5yJsya-l8BShHYvsvw_ZEeCMjQ/s320/DSCF1352.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lyndhurst high street</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: lime;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Dry land!</span></span></b></span><br />
<br />
It wasn't nearly as stressful as I feared. First thing this morning, we moved down to the boatyard and turned off the engine. Our suitcases appeared immediately, and we began packing. The proprietors called a taxi for us, and before long, we were on our way to Leamington Spa to catch a train. The itineraries that I had found online looked pretty intimidating. Robin ignored them. We took the train from Leamington to Southampton, switched trains, rode to Ashurst (New Forest), then waited a few minutes, outside the pub, for another taxi. This one took us to the door of our hotel (<a href="http://www.booking.com/hotel/gb/crownhotel-lyndhurst.en.html?aid=311076;label=hotel-100231-gb-27fFOXMfmo1mQmn3wH3CpgS16038922380:pl:ta:p1:p2:ac:ap1t1:neg;ws=&gclid=CNq2-bu_27ICFY-6zAod200AuA">The Crown Manor</a>) in Lyndhurst. The whole operation took about four hours. We've since had a stroll down the high street, bought some fresh fruit for the room, gone downstairs for dinner, and come back to spend the evening lying on a big bed, watching colour television. (Ooooooh.)<br />
<br />
That's <a href="http://www.newforestparishes.com/page8/page2/lyndhurst.html">St. Michael and All Angels</a> church (below), which is just across the high street. I'm rather hoping that they'll be having a big patronal festival tomorrow. Meanwhile, it's lovely to hear the clock chime the hours.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From our hotel room window</td></tr>
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At the hotel restaurant, I asked whether they could do something with no meat or dairy. I suggested the linguine with artichoke hearts and lemon cream. If the cream is real cream, I said, just leave it off. I don't know what was in the sauce, but it was delicious, and I ate it along with a green salad. The artichoke hearts were fabulous.<br />
<br />
We can't be eating at the hotel every night, though. I've got to do some serious hunting for vegan fare. That reminds me of an old cartoon. I think it was a Far Side. It featured a group of six (?) cavemen carrying an enormous carrot. The caption read "Early vegetarians returning from the hunt". <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-91815265818449402912012-09-28T09:25:00.002-07:002012-09-28T09:25:26.066-07:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One last night aboard the <i>Monaco</i></span></span></span></div>
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September 28, 2012</div>
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I chickened out. I didn’t climb back up to St. Lawrence
Church today. I did look at it from a distance, though, when Robin and I walked
into the village. We went to the local grocery store and asked after train
schedules, bus schedules, taxi companies – because tomorrow we will need to get
from here to Lyndhurst, Hampshire, and that is no simple matter. At this point,
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train from Leamington to Southampton. We should be able to get a train from
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up plans for the far end of the trip. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEaahZG2vCw60y4gfMocq8MLF9hX3fcOrgo1yeNnRFBqUMr8FAo7EVv28s-Rg-Zd3pYy8XOrTzM1qcmjZC9WkDAjDtocdUv_8dBnj8GRaQePvLYrzx8vinmz0cx8OCzqK1U3k6XQ/s1600/DSCF1347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEaahZG2vCw60y4gfMocq8MLF9hX3fcOrgo1yeNnRFBqUMr8FAo7EVv28s-Rg-Zd3pYy8XOrTzM1qcmjZC9WkDAjDtocdUv_8dBnj8GRaQePvLYrzx8vinmz0cx8OCzqK1U3k6XQ/s320/DSCF1347.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Archie</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
And speaking of The Bridge, I'm there now, having a glass of lemonade. And while I'm here, I should introduce you to Archie, who is the pub's mascot. He's quiet, but somehow I can't forget about him. That could be because he's staring right at me. I chose my seat for its adjacent electrical outlet, and it wasn't until I turned around that I saw my neighbour. We've come to an understanding.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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As usual, just as I’m beginning to feel at home on the boat,
it’s time to leave it. I wonder whether there will be a radio in our hotel
room, so that I can turn Classic FM on in the morning and leave it on all day,
the way I do on the boat. I wonder what I’ll be eating for lunch and dinner. I
understand that being a vegan in the New Forest is not easy, unless you like
living on chips. This will be a challenge. I’ll bet I can find a salad here and
there, and maybe even a veggie pasty. The Manor House will provide a vegan
breakfast for me, and they do have a proper restaurant. Perhaps, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>if I ask nicely, they’ll prepare vegan dinners
for me, too.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching Napton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little something extra, just for Michael</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meanwhile, life will be about packing and schlepping – and then
more schlepping. I’ll report in when we’re safely settled in our hotel room. I
hear there’s wi-fi in every room. Woo-hoo!</div>
Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-91627458518168044052012-09-27T11:19:00.003-07:002012-09-27T11:26:17.074-07:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Braunston bound</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Shall we try this again?</span></span></b></i><br />
<br />
It appears that not only did the system eat the post I wrote today, despite my saving it several times, but it also ate yesterday's, and perhaps even more than that.<br />
<br />
Or...I will get up tomorrow, go to The Turtle, and find that everything has been magically restored. I'll go with that, for as long as possible.<br />
<br />
So in case I don't have much time to get this in, here goes:<br />
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<br />
We were going to stay in Newbold (Rugby) until tomorrow, but it turned out that we were in a 48-hour spot, so we left this morning, intending to go as far as Braunston. In the end, we went right past Braunston and all the way to Napton, where we will be turning the boat in on Saturday morning. We went past the boatyard and moored up near a pub called The Bridge, handily located at Bridge 111 (Find them on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/bridge.napton). Here we've had dinner and I've sworn copiously when my post disappeared.<br />
<br />
(On the bright side, the landlady's Ipod has some great stuff on it, including Louis Prima and Keely Smith doing "That Old Black Magic". I've loved listening to the music.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/sfNgcDvPn1M" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I've got this itch, you see..."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The day started out sunny and bright and stayed that way until we went through Braunston, when it rained. By the time we got to Napton, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining again. Now I'm sitting at a table overlooking the canal, watching the water's colour change as the sun sets.<br />
<br />
Highlight of the day: As I walked up to one of the three locks I had to work today, I saw a volunteer teaching a woman and man how to operate the lock. They opened the gate for us, and the woman told me that this was her birthday present. She leaned close and said to me, "My son said 'Happy birthday. You're going to go and learn how to operate locks.' I'd rather have a nice facial, actually." She looked thrilled when I told her she could go on, and I would close the gate.<br />
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<br />
Tomorrow, we won't go much of anywhere, except to the next bridge, where we will moor the boat and walk up to the village. I want to visit the windmill again, and St. Lawrence Church. Erin and I climbed up to the church last year, and I want to see whether I can still do it!Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-81081254520391552132012-09-23T05:23:00.002-07:002012-09-23T05:23:50.833-07:00<span style="color: lime;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Can you hear me now? </span></span></b></span><br />
<br />
It's been so long since we had wi-fi, I think it best to start with Friday's post, then Saturday's, and then today's. Sorry for the silence, but we've somehow found all the wi-fi-free places in England to stop for the night.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Monsoon narrowboat: </span></b></span><br />
<br />
September 22, 2012<br />
<br />
Today, the rains came. First thing this morning, the sky was grey, but before long, we were motoring along in a steady downpour. Robin was still sick, although he claims to be on the mend. Now I am sick, too, despite copious amounts of Vitamin C. (Who suggested Airborne? Thank you. I'll have a look around, but I suspect it's too late.)<br />
<br />
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There wasn't much to cheer about, or to write about, either -- except one incident that took place around noon. I looked out the window, then ran back to the stern to point out my find to Robin. "Look at that!" Floating in the canal, in the pouring rain, was a bright yellow sign that " "CAUTION: WET FLOOR! <br />
<br />
At that point, apparently, I still had a sense of humour.<br />
<br />
Around suppertime, we came to the Atherstone Locks -- eleven of them, all in a row. Someone was coming in the other direction (Oh, bliss. They will have left the locks empty!) so I took the opportunity to ask whether there were a place in Atherstone to do some grocery shopping. Yes, there was. We should moor up after Lock 6 and walk into the village.<br />
<br />
So that is what we did. We moored up across the canal from a pub and walked to the Co-op, where we stocked up on food and water. Having stowed our booty, I put my laptop into my backpack, and we walked across the bride to The King's Head for our dinner. It turned out that their wi-fi was broken, the food wasn't very good, and the music blasting from the speakers over our heads was pretty well unbearable -- but on the bright side, there was the pub's mascot, a lovely border collie named Blaisey (I think) who completely charmed us both. Robin sneaked chunks of chicken to her when nobody was looking. (Shhhhhhh)<br />
<br />
Dinner over, we trudged back to the boat, hung our wet coats over the rads, and settled in to play cards. The heating system aboard the <i>Monaco</i> is excellent, and I am having cause to be truly grateful for that.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ah, Currant Bun!</span></span></b><br />
<br />
Saturday, September 22, 2012<br />
<br />
Robin stood beside Lock 5, spread his arms, and cried "Ah, currant bun!", which is to say, "Ah, the sun!" We have had sunshine all day long. We still have to wear our coats, because it's cold out there, but the rain has stopped. We moored at a canal shop to buy yet another map, and the proprietor told us to expect rain both tomorrow and Monday. Accordingly, we're making plans for a two-day layover. We can get pretty close to Coventry tonight. That would involve another detour, but one with no locks involved. In fact, we've been looking at the big map, and it appears that we have only three more locks to work between here and Napton, the end of our journey!<br />
<br />
I am looking forward to seeing Coventry Cathedral, which is celebrating its 50th anniversary, the original cathedral having been destroyed by bombs during World War II. I'm told there is a good collection of modern art there.<br />
<br />
Here's a truth I have discovered on this trip: Narrowboating in the rain is no fun at all.<br />
<br />
And here is something I found tacked to the wall at Atherstone Lock #1. Please click to enlarge.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Me and Lady Godiva --</span></span></b><br />
<br />
We are in Coventry now. Last night, we spent the night about halfway up the Coventry Canal. While we were mooring, I had a text message from David to the effect that he hoped we were safely moored, because Nadine was on the way. I took it that Nadine is a tropical storm (hurricane?) due to hit here, so I was a little nervous during the night. As it turned out, there was no weather at all, to speak of, so we came up to the end of the canal this morning and moored in the canal basin, a rather forlorn dead end to the canal.<br />
<br />
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The first thing we did was come hunting for Starbucks, and here we are, charging the laptop, catching up on The Turtle, trying not to go deaf from the "music" (quotes intentional) blaring at us from the square outside. That's where Lady Godiva is, and it's a wonder she hasn't galloped away.<br />
<br />
Once the laptop is fully charged, we'll head over to the cathedral. I suppose we had better check the weather forecast, too. It wouldn't do to be out in the middle of nowhere if a big storm strikes.Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-37899499843750149162012-09-19T11:31:00.003-07:002012-09-19T11:31:55.827-07:00<span style="font-size: x-large;">BYE, BYE, BIRMINGHAM!</span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInPTyn2POFi3Pttp_-hfl-ZvQUuDbHxAoti3Ek0NPCEOAxGZkktRZ0CF8Dc8PIofvtMTuLncucCVf5XFdpfgBJZvstnp2xm5RZGlcJcTptQc6cGU6Y8dmPtZYi95_pSfBShWGUw/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInPTyn2POFi3Pttp_-hfl-ZvQUuDbHxAoti3Ek0NPCEOAxGZkktRZ0CF8Dc8PIofvtMTuLncucCVf5XFdpfgBJZvstnp2xm5RZGlcJcTptQc6cGU6Y8dmPtZYi95_pSfBShWGUw/s320/011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Warning: Long post – catching up) September 18, 2012</div>
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<br /></div>
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The day started out cold and windy. I even put a sweater on
to go open the first lock. The lock, by the way, came as an awful shock. I woke
up at 7:30 – In fact, we all woke up at 7:30, as if an alarm had gone off. We
had our coffee and tea and ate our Weetabix, and I cleaned up while the men
went through the morning routine out on the stern (checking the oil and such).
Then, while they got us underway, I took my book and went back to bed, suddenly
weary. I fell asleep, and the next thing I knew, we were bashing up against the
bank. I got up to see what was the matter. We were just below a lock, and the
wind was so high, it was blowing us sideways. Robin managed to get the boat
straightened out, dropped David and me off, and waited while we walked up to
empty the lock and open the gate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
reached the gate, I saw that there was another boat heading in the same direction,
just one lock ahead, so I waved to them and they waited for us. That made the
flight of five locks much easier than it would otherwise have been. At the
topmost lock, there was a bit of a traffic jam. Two boats were coming in the
opposite direction, so we left the lock full and waited for them to come
through. There was standing room only, with crew from four different boats
fetching up at the paddle controls, everybody trying to be more helpful than
everybody else. One of the downward boats was a day cruiser full of young
people. An older man, standing on the bank, was issuing orders to them. He
turned out to be the owner of the boatyard from which they had rented the boat.
It must be worrisome, day after day watching your valuable investment sail
away, knowing that the people at the helm have absolutely no idea what they’re
doing.<br />
</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLQql2EuDq7H6n3qYhNbMiUHtE-Pp-iOtOku0h3ivzTHOO3f8M9zkjCzThAY1sqwjOiM17vlACfKneQMKOZ7gOrLdSxjBMWnPegsOX3e55e73RyAy8-BbhYNHY08RaoHSS5TUyg/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLQql2EuDq7H6n3qYhNbMiUHtE-Pp-iOtOku0h3ivzTHOO3f8M9zkjCzThAY1sqwjOiM17vlACfKneQMKOZ7gOrLdSxjBMWnPegsOX3e55e73RyAy8-BbhYNHY08RaoHSS5TUyg/s320/020.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catherine de Barnes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After that, we aimed for a place called Catherine de Barnes,
south of Birmingham. We planned to spend the night there, as it was the last
mooring place before Birmingham, but due to a misunderstanding (nobody is quite
sure what happened), we floated right on through Catherine de Barnes and found
ourselves in a long, gloomy cutting. There was no way to turn around.
Consequently, we ended up in the back end of Birmingham, in an official mooring
place incongruously tucked in behind a derelict factory. It felt for all the
world as if we were sleeping in a doorway somewhere, except that we did have
heat. That was especially fortunate in that it started to rain shortly after we
tied up. We had already turned the heat on at that point, because the wind was
still whipping us, and it was a cold wind indeed. It actually felt as if it
might snow, but we didn’t even want to think about that. We have been lucky so
far in that it hasn’t rained during the day. I’m almost afraid to write that
out loud.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqi0-Sb2YGNNEVRK84hxMd10Yaj_EHFa1pVxWsag0h911lH2liDY3TNEdkmnCu1huiB4atWvRuKWjmNadf3-RqBKExgFKluyUJffsTmKX_qQ0yWWTw2nfuZJrEuNBCdQedgaPuQQ/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqi0-Sb2YGNNEVRK84hxMd10Yaj_EHFa1pVxWsag0h911lH2liDY3TNEdkmnCu1huiB4atWvRuKWjmNadf3-RqBKExgFKluyUJffsTmKX_qQ0yWWTw2nfuZJrEuNBCdQedgaPuQQ/s320/025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our port in a storm</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When we arrived at our ‘any port in a storm’ sleeping place,
we were pleased to see that there were already two other narrowboats moored
there. It didn’t seem like the kind of neighbourhood where you would want to be
the only weary travelers. We took the one remaining spot. Shortly after we
arrived, another narrowboat showed up. Its captain broke the rules by mooring
up at the water point, for which we didn’t blame him one bit. Half an hour
later, as the sun was going down, boat number five arrived and rafted up
against the boat moored at the water point. All of a sudden, we were a village.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpV64OUuFGozrM701dLa-gaapR0w1aeFC3VstwT_v3RlCQ3Xm2PBuxp9SkmODk741ZpFBhsmcUX12Wkpnei_Z1vPe3ySBWnoHAqdP1sFlO97d-tZ7B00hlOhIUJkJizl5Y92Kz3g/s1600/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpV64OUuFGozrM701dLa-gaapR0w1aeFC3VstwT_v3RlCQ3Xm2PBuxp9SkmODk741ZpFBhsmcUX12Wkpnei_Z1vPe3ySBWnoHAqdP1sFlO97d-tZ7B00hlOhIUJkJizl5Y92Kz3g/s320/026.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another view of our luxurious mooring</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>I am writing this when I should really be in bed. I guess I
shouldn’t nap during the day. Also, we played rummy again tonight, and I
couldn’t do anything right, so I have to stay up and lick my wounds. David will
be leaving us tomorrow; we have to find a coach to take him back to Napton,
where he left his car. We are sorry to see him go, but we will see him again in
a couple of weeks, when we’ve given up the boat and taken up our hotel room in
the New Forest.</i></div>
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…………………………………………………</div>
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September 19, 2012<br />
</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scenic Birmingham</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The morning dawned bright, if still cold, and we were on our
way by 8:30. I must say that the City of Birmingham has a lot to answer for. If
they really want to attract tourists to their waterways, I would suggest that
someone, at least once in a while, ought to go out and tidy up a bit. Our
journey through Birmingham made me think that I now knew what dumpster diving
must be like. The canal was full to bursting with plastic bottles and assorted
other rubbish – even a deflated soccer ball at one of the locks. The walls
surrounding the canal – of course, there were derelict factories on every side
– were covered with graffiti, and one of the locks -- #3 in the Garrison Locks
– was in such poor condition that I decided that we simply must notify British
Waterways. It appears that whoever they have hired to look after that lock has
decided he has better things to do. The paddles hadn’t been greased in so long,
it was nearly impossible to work them.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What David missed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In spite of all that, we did make it through Birmingham and
out the other side. Now it was time for David to be on his way. On one of our
inadequate maps, there was a symbol indicating – we thought – that there was a
bus station right near Cater’s Bridge in Minworth, so we aimed for that, only
to find that there was no way to get from the canal to the road. On one side of
the canal, there was a dirt path leading up the bank, ending in a wooden fence.
On the other side, a fancier path led to the top, where there was a locked cast
iron gate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back onto the boat we went,
and away we sailed to the next bridge. Nope. At the bridge after that one, we
found a pair of canal workers trimming trees. We asked them about the bus
station. They said there wasn’t one nearby, as far as they knew, but we should
inquire at the pub (here, at last, was street access!), and we could probably
get a taxi from there to take us to the bus station in Birmingham. And that’s
what we did – or what David did, at any rate. I went up to the pub (called The
Boat) with him, and a man there kindly called a taxi for us. The taxi driver
confirmed that the closest bus station would be back in central Birmingham. Off
went David, and back I went to the Monaco. I called Sheila, David’s wife, to
let her know what was going on, and Robin and I set off. No sooner was David
gone than the urban blight we had been enduring for the last day gave way to
fields full of hay. I felt guilty, somehow, as if it were my fault that David’s
last day of narrowboating was such an unpleasant one. We’ll have to make it up
to him next year.</div>
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We didn’t actually travel far after David left – just to
Curdworth, where we moored just south of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>a tunnel. Robin went off to explore the neighbourhood and, with any
luck, find something for his dinner, while I stayed behind to catch up on The
Turtle. We have put the hardest work behind us, with David’s help, so we can
relax and slow down a bit now.<br />
<br />
<i>p.s. It's now 7:30 in the evening. I'm sitting in a lovely pub called the White Horse, taking advantage of the free wi-fi. Robin and I had dinner here; then he went back to the boat because he's nursing a nasty cold. I finally heard from Sheila just a few minutes ago. Apparently it took David something like six hours to get back to Napton by way of two taxis, a bus, and a whole lot of money. He's now in his car, and it will take him another two hours to get home. Did I say something about guilt?</i></div>
Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-38530298280238782712012-09-17T11:09:00.001-07:002012-09-17T11:09:15.174-07:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ACsd6pDpSQMOYi4qToNBXoJzQthcTSkOipTNQMmfZBLwvI6OOYJ5D0TnkSKJ8jhRoK9KDjyIVStfJxX1jZc3Ft1LD3RGZNXUqQXjSiMwPf51w-15bCL2BA1lduLnrhTjlC5nDQ/s1600/ducklings.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ACsd6pDpSQMOYi4qToNBXoJzQthcTSkOipTNQMmfZBLwvI6OOYJ5D0TnkSKJ8jhRoK9KDjyIVStfJxX1jZc3Ft1LD3RGZNXUqQXjSiMwPf51w-15bCL2BA1lduLnrhTjlC5nDQ/s320/ducklings.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Much nicer traveling companions</td></tr>
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<h2 class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Twenty-One Locks. Yes, Twenty-one</span></span></span>. </span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Before we got properly underway today,
we pulled into a little side canal, where there was a canal shop. We hoped to
buy a decent canal map. They didn't have any, and we had to turn around
in a winding hole to get out. As we pulled up to the winding hole, whom
did we see, but Napoleon, my nemesis from yesterday -- well, his boat, anyway. We beat a hasty
retreat, lest he decide to get underway. We could have used a buddy boat
today, but not that one.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Well, you know what Burns said about the best laid plans of
Turtles and men, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had plans to
go to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stratford – and Robin decided he
would like to see Warwick Castle – but somehow we went right through Warwick
(that was on our Sunday supermarket search) without going to see the castle,
and now it turns out that going to Stratford requires a really, really big
detour. I estimate that it would take us two days to get there and another two
to get back to the Warwick Ring. I’m thinking maybe we’ll try to get there by
coach from somewhere along the route or else leave it for another visit. </div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">We did climb the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hatton_Locks">Hatton Lock flight</a> today, all
twenty-one locks of it, one right after another, slogging, slogging. In fact, we did two of the locks twice, because we had to backtrack, first thing this morning, to get back to the supermarket. So -- TWENTY-THREE LOCKS! At about Lock
#18, David said he had lost the will to live. It was a sad thing to see. He did
recover, though, and so did I, when we saw the last lock of the flight behind
us, instead of in front of us. We are now (5 p.m. or thereabouts) moving
gracefully along a long stretch of lockless canal. We somehow missed the pub
where we were planning to stop for dinner, so we’re playing it by ear. It’s
England. This is a canal. There will be pubs. Aha! We are in Kingswood Junction.
There are bridges, goats, and a public mooring place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, but is there a pub? There must be,
because all of a sudden we’re driving backwards, presumably<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>toward the public mooring. Ah, yes. We’re
right across the bridge from Tom o’ the Wood.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">.......................</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">And now we are sitting in comfortable chairs inside <a href="http://www.tomothewood.co.uk/">Tom o' the Wood</a>, having a drink before dinner.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3fG4bSYT6Tsb9nvlz6NiyDbN6ldUap_f7Yz_hQ3sRTpamsjh5Bpo5A4VWAy08POlVIbPZ1ooJqAhkBMnmC6nUxpIeZvAT9N28w4tjttnh1doNVyez4_nRAwbpCbfeblWI4vrxTA/s1600/Tom+o+the+Wood.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3fG4bSYT6Tsb9nvlz6NiyDbN6ldUap_f7Yz_hQ3sRTpamsjh5Bpo5A4VWAy08POlVIbPZ1ooJqAhkBMnmC6nUxpIeZvAT9N28w4tjttnh1doNVyez4_nRAwbpCbfeblWI4vrxTA/s320/Tom+o+the+Wood.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom o' the Wood, Kingswood Junction</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">It is warm and cozy in here, which feels good after the last hour or two. There's rather a biting wind now, although the day as a whole was sunny and warm. Yesterday's threat of rain turned out to be without substance, by the way. Oh, no. It did rain -- but not until we were moored and settled in for the night, playing rummy in the saloon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">...........................................</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Dinner is over now. I had a mushroom pizza, without cheese (good), and both the men had Bubble and Squeak which I must say was the most elegant bubble and squeak I have ever seen. It was served in the modern style, everything stacked on everything else, and the top layer was some sort of tomato sauce. I could see a rasher of bacon, and then, when Robin cut into his meal, I saw that there was a fried egg under the tomato sauce. I'll stick with the pizza, I think.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Since we aren't going to Stratford -- or not by boat, anyway -- we will be heading in the general direction of Birmingham. I'm told there aren't any huge flights of locks in the forecast. See me smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15937405.post-82367778394880728182012-09-16T11:47:00.001-07:002012-09-16T11:47:38.239-07:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZuh4K_YOFH5vJtA9OxlasQRlISNVxN4pHHrDBIff-4lXqW-LusY83NOJtOIM590vnRYLr1jCEdXkmadK6oEE3R7iSv_shLVUJpKZMeKtf5HwSEgb13txDILsOmbht0ZG5beYaaQ/s1600/115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZuh4K_YOFH5vJtA9OxlasQRlISNVxN4pHHrDBIff-4lXqW-LusY83NOJtOIM590vnRYLr1jCEdXkmadK6oEE3R7iSv_shLVUJpKZMeKtf5HwSEgb13txDILsOmbht0ZG5beYaaQ/s320/115.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David (l) and Robin (r) at the Cape of Good Hope</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Jet lag, Schmet lag.</b></span></span></h2>
<br />
It's Sunday evening --just before 7:00 p.m., and we're sitting in the <a href="http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/14/14906/Cape_of_Good_Hope/Warwick">Cape of Good Hope pub at Warwick</a>. We had planned to buy groceries at Leamington Spa, but by the time we got there, at 4:30, all the supermarkets had closed. We changed plans and headed for Warwick, intending to have a pub dinner. We arrived here at 6:25, and when we approached the pub, we saw a sign advising that their Sunday hours are noon-7:00. Oops -- but we were just in time to order our dinner. It really didn't seem like the sort of place that would have wi-fi, so I almost didn't bother asking. I'm glad I did.<br />
<br />
To my astonishment, I don't feel jet-lagged anymore. Maybe it's all the exercise I've gotten over the last two days. I certainly couldn't have said that last night -- and didn't. Here is what I wrote then:<br />
<br />
............................................................. <br />
<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
September 15, 2012</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We landed at Heathrow at ten o’clock in the morning. Brother
David met us and whisked us off to Napton, Warwickshire – with a stop along the
way at a Tesco supermarket, where we stocked up on the important stuff – like
coffee and tea, steak pie and veggie pie. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two o’clock was the official starting time for our
narrowboat rental, and we were there in plenty of time. David will be with us
for a few days, so the three of us spent a few minutes calling dibs on our
various beds and figuring out where on earth to store things. This boat (the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monaco</i>) is prettier than the other<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>narrowboats we’ve rented – at least the
interior is – but it has virtually no storage space. Robin is keeping his
clothes in the cupboard under the bathroom sink, and I’ve put mine in a
cubbyhole four feet off the floor, behind the foot of our bed. I have to crawl
up and stand on the bed to get to my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ad hoc</i>
dresser. David is using his suitcase as a dresser. It sits on top of the one
bed that isn’t in use as a bed. Robin and I left our suitcases in storage at
the marina, because if we kept on the boat, we would have to sleep in
them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We went through the paperwork, got our instructions from a
man named Steve as to the operation of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monaco</i>
and its peculiarities, and by three o’clock, we were headed out,
Stratford-bound. I had rather thought that we would be in Stratford tomorrow,
but I’m getting the impression that it’s farther away than either of us
realized. It isn’t right on the Warwickshire Ring. Getting there involves a
detour, but we have the boat for two weeks, and we could get around the Ring in
a week, so we have lots of time to explore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The best thing about this boat? It has a sliding roof. I’ve
had half of it open right now, because I’m too jet-lagged to open the other
side, but tomorrow I’m going to sit here with the entire centre section of the
59-foot boat open to the sunshine. Of course, we’ve heard that it will rain
tomorrow, but that’s okay. There will be other days.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s 5:15 in the afternoon now (9:15 a.m. in our poor,
jet-lagged brains) and we have come through three locks. Dinner is in the oven,
and we have tied up for the night at Stockton. The brothers have walked across
the bridge to a pub called The Boat Inn, to have a pint before dinner. I’ve
stayed home to mind the pies. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Already,
the flight, the length of it, the soreness of my bum and back from sitting in
that airplane’s seat, are all fading from memory. A few minutes ago, I was
floating through a narrow channel, reeds pushing up against the side of the
boat. Now I’m sitting still, communing with the ducks and the swans. I’m happy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
................................... </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, that is how I was feeling at 5:15. We had dinner, cleaned up, and sat down to play cards -- mostly to keep ourselves awake. By 9:30, I was nearly weeping with fatigue, so in spite of the fact that the \music coming from the Boat Inn was extremely loud and of the head bashing kind, I went to bed and fell into a deep sleep. I slept until 3:00 a.m., woke up, told myself sternly that it was far too early to do that, and went back to sleep until 8:30.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhCkS-hxMlHu8eewAzZdu8_Dll72eqyMh-BFmeq_my5V-l5RgcgD_FDMoJ2MhFY0mYbMd5SpCCfYYhKqHDlxAkxKbn5uL7S05k-4fDsCeiZNz4c4CLUABErvzS5osJEYIvoJU9g/s1600/109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhCkS-hxMlHu8eewAzZdu8_Dll72eqyMh-BFmeq_my5V-l5RgcgD_FDMoJ2MhFY0mYbMd5SpCCfYYhKqHDlxAkxKbn5uL7S05k-4fDsCeiZNz4c4CLUABErvzS5osJEYIvoJU9g/s320/109.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of our less bossy traveling companions</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were on the move by 9:30, and all went well except that around noon I got thoroughly sick of being bellowed at by strange men, so I told Robin and David that they could handle the lock work themselves, and I retired to the inside of the boat. One of the bellowers, a man who I suspect has no authority or autonomy in his regular work life, mentioned to Robin that he had lost one of his crew members, so Robin told him what I had said. We pulled over and let Napoleon and buddies go on without us. Then I went topside again and resumed my duties.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's been a long, long day, and I'm tired and sore, but no more than I would expect, given the work I've been doing. I don't feel jet-lagged at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still don't know when we'll get to Stratford, but at least we have a proper canal map now (courtesy of the 24-hour Tesco gas station where we also bought marmalade, baked beans, and paper towels -- the best we could do in the absence of an open supermarket) -- so perhaps we'll be able to figure it out when we look at the map after dinner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Meanwhile, though, I've had a call from my cousin Kathryn from Oxford. We plan to get together on Wednesday, probably to go to Evensong at Worcester Cathedral. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have told David that he can't leave us until at least the day after tomorrow, because tomorrow we have a flight of 21 locks to climb. Oy.</div>
<br />
While I'm grateful for this wi-fi connection, I must say that it's mighty slow, and I don't have time to put any more photos up. Trust me, there are a lot of them, and eventually I'll find a way to post them. Meanwhile, have a lovely evening. <br />
<br />
<br />Sandra Leighhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12052047359365369942noreply@blogger.com3