Punting

 Saturday we went to Cambridge--us and about a million other people. The city was just to the point of being overwhelming for me at this stage of the trip. We wanted to do the punting, since that is the quintessential Cambridge activity, plus, it's the only way to see the backs of the colleges. ( A punt, in case you don't know, is a lot like a gondolier. Maneuvering it is harder than it looks, evidenced by the number of amateurs who were all over the place, turning the river into an afternoon of bumper-punts.) We had the good sense to NOT try it ourselves and paid for a "chauffered" boat along with two young English couples, 26-28 years old, who were quite prepared! They popped the Prosecco and Coronas just as the boat started to move. It was great fun, but the punt jams were nonstop to the point that you had to give up trying to hear the tour guide and go with the moment of laughing at the silly folks trying to maneuver these boats on their own, feeling quite safe with our competent punter, even if we couldn't understand a word of what he was trying to tell us.Other than the punting, we really didn't give the city its due. It was just too much at this point.

Random Thursday

I think I'm wearing down; I'm ready to be home. Nothing against anything here, I'm just missing my routine, my hubby, my cat, cooking, all that. Maybe three weeks would have been enough. I've jokingly said I feel like I'm in electronic rehab -- no television, no texting, no phone -- and as sad as it may be, I look forward to sitting down and watching one of my recorded TV shows. I also look forward to air conditioning!

I took myself out to breakfast today to a sweet cafe called The Pantry. I ordered homemade muesli with yogurt and honey, plus a pot of Earl Grey. The tea here really is better. It really is. I just couldn't go for one of the pub breakfasts advertised on the sidewalks -- eggs, beans (as in pork n beans), mushrooms and sausages. Just couldn't do it.

The big news items in these slow news times are (1) Simon Cowell fathering a child with his friend's wife and (2) Prince Charles wearing the same suit to at least seven of his past "events." How do they know it's the same suit, you ask? It seems the suit is patched, or repaired as they say, it's front and center, bottom left side. He bumped into fresh paint on one of his trips and it was fixed by placing a patching over the area. Maybe he's doing his part for the economy. Another newsy bit was about the zero-hour contracts that employees at Buckingham Palace have. No guaranteed number of hours; calling employees in on short notice, etc. And they can't take another job if they are under the contract. Sounds ludicrous to me. It will be interesting to see how long it lasts.

I went into a Marks & Spencer store today. This one has clothes in the front half of the store, and groceries in the back half. A fairly large area, actually, for food, and it's good food too. An interesting combo.

I picked this item up, thinking it was probably a Shiraz candle. It is not, in fact, a candle, but a (plastic) glass of Shiraz, sealed with plastic on top, available for purchase. Right there, next to the shoe wipes. Do not look for this on the grocery shelves in Tulsa!



And my last thought for this post is why would they announce the Jane Austen currency note four years ahead of when it will circulated? What a tease! I was all set to scoop some up for friends.

Beatrix Potter at Hill Top

Although I grew up to be an avid reader, I don’t have memories of being read to as a child. I’ve known of the story of Peter Rabbit, of course, but don’t remember it being read to me or even reading it to my own daughter. That being said, I visited the house of Beatrix Potter this weekend at Hill Top in Cumbria, and left with such an appreciation of that woman that I think the next biography I read will be about her.

Perhaps one of the more impressive things about her to me was her land management skills. She was an early Preservationist and very serious about preserving large estates, not breaking them up and tearing down old cottages to be replaced with cheap bungalows. The money she made from selling her books, she bought land and upon her death, left more than 4000 acres to be rented to tenant farmers in order to keep a certain breed of sheep on the Hill. Her books were almost autobiographical in that she used animals from the village, people, places, things in her own house and garden for inspiration.

Touring her house and hearing the excitement of children seeing her books come to life for them, was goose bumpy. They squealed when they saw the rhubarb in the garden; they knew about the two bad mice on the shelf. And the cat who fell through the floor? They found the board that was removed to rescue the cat and jumped for joy. For those children, her spirit was alive -- and so were her stories. And to think, her first book was turned down by the publisher and she chose to publish it herself.

Just pictures

These English just can't stop with the flowers. And neither can I, apparently. They go on and on and on. I've never in my life seen the begonias they grow. And the colors. Colors so bright you almost wish for sunglasses.

Good Karma

This morning my sister and I agreed that we would replace our afternoon wine regimen with afternoon tea, having just returned from four days in the Lake District, where afternoon teas were abundant. I made it my mission today to seek out a proper teapot, some cups and loose tea before she got home from work. I walked to High Street, went in and out of shops, surprised at how difficult it was to find a "cute" teapot. Finally, I went to my favorite store, TK Maxx. They had several pots, varying prices, but no sets. I continued to browse, trying to decide whether to mix and match or move on. I spied two cups with saucers, creamy white on the clearance table, but the other pots in the store just didn't fit with them. I passed them by. Continuing to wander around the store, I saw a woman carrying a teapot that matched the cups and saucers. I stopped her and said, "They have some matching cups and saucers over there." "Yes," she said, "I saw them and couldn't decide. We went away to Cartmel this weekend and I made tea in a teapot and it just tasted so much better. I have a pot at home but this one's so nice. I just didn't know if I wanted the cups." I told her that we too had been in Cartmel, and I was looking for a teapot for my sister and if she hadn't got that one, I probably would have. She asked me if I would get the cups as well. I told her I would, and she handed me the pot and said, "You should have this. I want you to get this for your sister. But you have to get the cups too." We argued a bit about it, but she was insistent and I walked out with a lovely teapot with two matching cups and saucers. Her graciousness gave me goosebumps.

I believe that what goes around comes around.  She will have a great day; she certainly made mine.

A Gallon of Gas

Don't let yourself be fooled by thinking this is the price for a gallon of gasoline. That's 1.39 (pounds) for a liter, or $2.16 per liter. Multiply that times 4 and you have $8.54 for a gallon of gasoline! It makes small cars and public transportation very attractive.

We just returned from a 4-day driving trip and since a friend drove, we filled the tank. $120 later . . .

Food Diary

Someone wrote and asked me what I've been eating while I'm here. Before I came, I was remembering that on previous visits to England, I had not been impressed with the food. Bland and heavy came to mind. I have to say, though,  I haven't experienced that at all on this visit. Another thing that is different this time is it's more difficult to find a proper cup of tea than it is a coffee. Before, when you asked for coffee, you got Sanka. Those days are long gone.
 
When we went out to dinner in Southwold over the weekend, we ate at The Crown restaurant which is part of an Adnams hotel there. There were four of us; two selected the scallops and scampi for the starter, one chose the smoked tomato and goats cheese salad, and the other went with pork terrine. Judging only by comments, I would guess that Irene and I made the best choice with the scallops. Under the ever-so-small scallops were those crisp English peas, which made for a nice variety in texture. For the entree, the three ladies all went with fresh sea bass, served with tiny new potatoes, spinach and fennel. The gentleman had a steak, which he said is never as good as the steaks in America. For dessert, we all got the roasted peach served with ginger ice cream.

For lunch at the 1885 Cafe at Snape Maltings, I had tomato hummus, olives, and bread to start, followed by a baked portabello mushroom with goats cheese on Thorpness greens. See what I mean by lovely meals?

Jennifer and her friend Joy have a routine of going for pizza on Friday evenings, and we have done that twice since I've been here. Pizza Express actually has more ambiance than its name would suggest. We sit in the courtyard and eat pizza with the thinnest crust I've ever had in my whole entire life. There's one pizza which has a hole in the middle (think big flat doughnut) with a salad in the hole. You never feel stuffed when you leave. Plus, they put hardly any cheese on their pizzas.

Nearby Jennifer's house, there's what I would call an upscale grocer called Waitrose. They have a Good to Go counter with fresh made items. My favorite has been the beetroot and goats cheese salad with a mix of wheatberries and lentils, spinach and a lemon/creme fraiche dressing. I've had this several times; in fact, I had it today. 

While I was at Waitrose, I bought a Ginger Beer. I've seen ginger beers on menus, but have no idea what it tastes like. The bottle, says "an alcoholic ginger beer made with jamaican ginger, sicilan lemons and a hint of chili. Serve over ice with a slice of fresh lemon."

Of course, when we cook, which is most evenings, it's just as I would cook at home. Fruits and vegetables are fresh, cheeses are abundant. Eggs come in cartons of 3 or 6 or 9, never 12. Interesting, I thought. There are a few butcher shops in town for fresh meat, although Jennifer buys beef at the Air Force base because the German base has its own cattle ranch, and the grass fed beef is superb.

Aldeburgh Charm

Aldeburgh is on the water, just a few miles south of Southwold. Again, charm abounds. It's hard to stop taking pictures of the same things over and over and sometimes I just have to put the camera away and say I have enough that I won't forget how it made me feel.

I feel like strolling instead of walking. I feel as if the gray weather is here on purpose so the flowers can be appreciated all the more. I wish I could paint and draw everything I see. I like that the gardens are always humble. I like seeing poppies growing unexpectedly in the marshes, lavender growing in the wall of a church.

I like people leaving notes on their walls. I like the tiny details given to things, rather than the grand gesture. I like the isolated calm broken by a village.




I like a busy street that still allows you to see the gentle landscape beyond.

Suffolk Coastline

Apropos to visiting the Suffolk coast, the weather turned and there was a continuous mist, wind and a gray sky. It was perfect.

The picturesque beach huts line up to punctuate the gray. These are quite small, no water, no electricity, you can't stay the night, and to purchase one is at least 100,000 pounds, which converts to roughly $150,000. They are available to rent for the day or week, 20 pounds a day ($30). The beach huts are quintessential Southwold. Artist after artist paints, photographs, fuses glass, any medium will do to capture their charm.  In another area, the huts are used for a shopping village, much like flea market booths.

I took advantage of being in the area to visit a business colleague, who through the years has turned into a friend and now, my host in his charming English village. We were greeted with a glass of champagne in their lovely garden area, the American flag flying high in our honor. My heart burst from the sweet gesture. It's one I will remember if and when I have a guest visiting from another country.

Our host, Jamie, is a sailing aficionado and quite involved in a small sailing museum there. He had the keys to unlock the door even when it wasn't open, so we got to see the "Alfred Corry," the Southwold No.1 Lifeboat, dedicated in 1893, which is being restored to her original form and takes up most of the space in a small museum. Stories and photos of rescues and maritime history line the museum walls; there's even a section about the Scottish girls working in the herring factory, who were able to gut 40 herring a minute!

We left Southwold after a proper English breakfast of ham and homemade sausages, cooked on the outside grill, creamy scrambled eggs, toast, juice, and afterwards, coffees. (Tea had been prepared early, upon our waking.) It was all quite delightful. We left with full hearts and traveled south along the coastline, stopping in Leiston to see the Abbey ruins, then to Thorpeness, a village built in 1913 as a holiday fantasy village for people to experience "merrie auld England," then on to Aldeburgh, which was large compared to the others and bursting with charm. Our biggest surprise was the Snape Maltings, disused malthouses which have been converted into one of the finest concert venues in the country, and most recently a recording studio. Plenty of shops and galleries, a tearoom and a pub (of course). Currently some of the malthouses are being converted to residences, as well. This photo only shows the front side, what you see as you would drive down the road. Unfortunately, I was so taken aback once we were inside the complex that I failed to photograph any other part.

Train to Croydon

Which is better? This?

Or this?

Yeah, I thought so too. That was my feeling yesterday when we ventured to Croydon, which is basically south London. Busy streets, tall steel buildings, people bumping into you, sirens, yellow ambulances, all the hustle and bustle that Newmarket is lacking.

When they tell you that you grow by taking yourself out of your comfort zone, let me tell you, I must have grown a lot yesterday. We left early, got on the wrong train to London, but at least it was going to London. With plenty of improvisation and good luck, we arrived at the UK Border Agency on time, just a little rattled. It had taken Jennifer six weeks to get this appointment, so missing it was out of the question. After we ran across a busy six-lane street, I spotted this sign.

Oops! After her appointment, we decided we'd had enough of Croydon and took the train (now quite experienced) into central London for a late lunch. Red buses, cute taxi cabs, and tourists passed by as we dined al fresco on Buckingham Palace Road. One gentleman stopped to ask me for directions to Westminster Abbey. It thrilled me to think I looked like I knew what I was doing!

A hot train back home, and we'd had an 11-hour day. It was nice to be back in quiet little Newmarket. The evening temperature required a sweater, which felt great after a sweltering day. The weather is so nice in the evenings, it sounds like a party all around the neighborhood, so many people sitting outside, you hear much laughter and talking all around you.

Have I mentioned this is the driest July in 250 years?!!

The Gallops

It's hot here. Everyone is so excited about the weather. They keep telling me how lucky I am to be here for this weather. Usually, they say, it's quite chilly, rainy, and jacket worthy. I don't tell them I was actually hoping for a bit more chill than I'm getting, but there's still time to experience that I imagine. The mornings are quite nice, as are the evenings, but during the day, no air conditioning means the windows are open with no screens, little breeze, but plenty of bees and flies. There are times that the incessant buzzzzz drives me up the wall. I'm not complaining, just keeping it real for you.

I'm a big fan of thumbprint travel. Take a map, put your thumb down where you are, and explore the area covered by your thumb. That is pretty much what I've been doing the past week.

This morning I walked down to watch the horses do their gallop exercises. This little town is known for one thing  -- horse racing. It's the thoroughbred training center of the country, so fields, stables, and galloping paths surround the area. It's really quite beautiful and very peaceful.


After the horses finish their exercises (after 1 p.m.) the galloping trails are open to the public. I want to walk the trail one evening because I hear the view from the top is spectacular.

And if you're a tall woman looking for a tall man, this is NOT the place to be. It is very noticeable how many small men are here. And the other day at the races? All those retired jockeys? Oh my. It was another world. I felt like a giant.

 
The stables and even the stable entrances are very elaborate. Very clean and picturesque.

Tomorrow, we venture by train to an area near London (we're 65 miles north), business for my sister; exploration for me. She will be interrogated, fingerprinted, and investigated so she can trade her temporary work Visa for a permanent one. Me, I'm along for the ride and one more adventure.

"There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile; he found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse, and they all lived together in a little crooked house."

An English nursery rhyme


This is Lavenham, known for its perfectly preserved half-timbered houses, wonky angles compliments of the passing years. Some people say this town was the "inspiration" for the nursery rhyme, but I couldn't find anything about that in the shops there and I would think if it were true, they'd be selling nursery books like crazy. A bit of research tells me that the poem actually has political references and background. Regardless, it was a charming town with pastel-painted buildings all carefully maintained. They have a zealous preservation group that has banned TV antennas and aerials to keep the village's antique appearance.

Jigsaw Festival

You’re going to be jealous, I know you are. I went to the Jigsaw Festival today at St. Mary’s Church in Newmarket. It’s an annual event, with an “ever changing display” of puzzles. There were approximately 275 puzzles on display, all completed and all for sale. Tables and tables of puzzles, all sizes. Some were as big as 5 ft.x 3 ft. There were several in progress with the invitation to "have a go" if you wanted. I added one piece.

Unfortunately, I missed the Singles Jigsaw Championship which was held on Sunday. A woman finished the 1000 piece puzzle in 171 minutes and is the first British Singles Jigsaw Champion. The women who joined me for tea at my table were marveling at her skill.

This just goes to prove there’s something for everyone.

 











Have a go!








This is the competition puzzle that was completed in 171 minutes. Everyone who competed got to keep the puzzle and the winner was awarded 50 pounds.

Leaving Comments

I've received emails from several people who were having a hard time posting a comment. I have changed the settings to allow anonymous comments for those who don't have a Google account, etc. Please identify yourself though so I'll know who's watching:) Hoping to hear from you!

A Day at the Races

Darley July Cup Day is one of the biggest race days in Britain. On Saturday, July 13, the July Course in Newmarket hosted the race considered by many to be Europe’s most prestigious sprint AND it occurred on my sister's birthday AND her community choir sang AND I got to join the choir for the day. Holy cow, what a day it was. We had to be at the race track at 11:00 a.m., dressed entirely in black. It promised to be a hot day and did not disappoint. There were 25-30 of us, standing in the shade of a tree, singing as the gates opened. We broke for lunch and regathered an hour later in the shade of a small building in the family section of the race grounds. Blankets, coolers, small children everywhere.We weren't too well-received in this area, competing with race announcements and so forth, and finally gave in and let the PA system have its way. A 3-hour break before our final appearance gave us time in which to watch the races, find some shade and take in all the fashion hats, of which there was no shortage. Our last "appearance" was at 5:45, full hot sun, in the parade ring. An exhausting day, but one that will never be matched, or forgotten.

The hat I wore to the races was for practical purposes only, it was not a fashion statement, unlike Ladies attending the race for sport. Quite fashionable they were and every single one was quite thrilled when I asked if I could snap a picture of her hat. You can see all the hats here. There were just too many to post on this page.

Everyone awaits the royal birth. A silver penny has been minted that every child born on the same day as the royal one will receive in a little pink or blue purse. Pregnant mums are indeed hoping their day coincides with Kate's.



Although, you can bet on horses here, it is illegal to bet on the sex of the royal child.

Newmarket is what they call a two-tiered town. One tier has a lot, as in money, and the other tier has little. Most of the shops are geared to those who have little. Many consignment shops, second-hand shops, charity shops, super-saver stores--that sort of commercial makeup.

The one thing the town has no shortage of though, is vibrant flower baskets.You see them everywhere, on porches, street lamps, side walls, shop walls, so fresh, so colorful. That's what puts the charm in this little town. That and maybe the fact that the butchers in small specialty shops wear hats. I noticed it in one shop and thought it unique, charming in the way that specialty shops can be, but then I saw the same thing in another butcher shop. A dress code, perhaps?  Whatever it is, I love it, visually.

Continuing down High Street (think Main Street), there it was, the English version of my favorite store. It cracked me up and of course I had to check it out. Similar items, but not the marketing skills of American store layouts. They even had the same purse I almost bought before my trip, except now it would cost 30% more because of currency conversion. And I wonder, why the K? Do other countries have the same store, but with another second letter? Curious indeed.

And then there were more flowers. They're a little like seashells to me. Once I get started, I can't seem to stop. Each one seems just a bit prettier than the last one, and today, I ended up with picture after picture of flowers. Today was the day of the flowers. I'm sure I'll get to the signs soon. The signs are another one of those things here that make me smile.

Newmarket: A Little Rubbish Town

A little rubbish town is how the driver described Newmarket as we drove in. It sounded negative to me, but he went on to explain he meant there were are only houses and horses, no cute antique shops, no upscale cafes, and such.

This is the door to my sister's house. I have my own skeleton key. Yes, I said skeleton key. I plan to venture out today and find the charm that I know is here. Martin, the driver, may call it rubbish, but I believe I saw more charm than he did. Like beauty, charm is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. The only thing I have found that I forgot to pack was my calcium, so my first trek out will be to a market. I bet it's a charming walk.

Why Not?

Continuing to live by the motto of Why not?, I splurged and upgraded to Business Class when I checked in for my flight from Dallas to London, paying an additional 30% for it. In the big scheme of things, I said "Why not?" As it turned out, it was one of my wiser decisions.

American Airlines started flying this aircraft only a week ago. Each seat is like a tiny cubicle. The seat reclined completely flat; I had a pillow and duvet; there was a pop-out 15" television; Bose noise cancelling headphones -- but the best part? I got about 4-5 hours of sleep. Tom always jokes that it only costs a little more to go first class. In this case, he was exactly right. For me, right now, it's actually July 11. I was up at 4:30 a.m. and feel as if I'm on track with no jet lag.

Packing for a Month

To take a trip for a month is something I've never done. In many ways, this trip will be my first taste of what it feels like to be retired. My sister, who moved to England after being four years in Germany; four years in which I never made it there to see her, I might add, said, "You can get a 90-day travel Visa. Why don't you come and stay three months with me?" My first thought was "Oh, I can't do that." But she countered with "You're retired! Why not?" And I thought why not, indeed. That was three months ago. Now, I'm three days away from arriving in England to spend a month with my sister.

Expectations? I"m not sure. I believe you grow not only by learning something new but also by rediscovering things you've let go. Things like noticing and hearing, like really seeing. That's my expectation I think. To really see, to notice, to be where I am. What better person to do that with than a sister.

As much as I traveled in my work life, I never mastered the art of packing. I hate to pack. I agonize. I redo. I make lists and then I make more lists. For this trip, although I have unknown weather conditions, I've tried to be more systematic than before. As I stacked things up, my open suitcase began to seem smaller each day. I finally put everything in the suitcase to test my space. Success. Then, I got the message that the Brits were enjoying a heat wave of sorts and of course I had packed following my sister's admonition of "We haven't broken 64 yet." I began to unpack and rethink my entire strategy. I'm forced to be practical and efficient with my space simply because I want to take only one suitcase. Tomorrow will be the final packing. I'm ready.

Part of the impetus for starting this blog was my upcoming trip. I wanted a way to stay connected with family and friends, to share things immediately, and keep a record of my impressions and discoveries. Facebook is okay, but I need to be able to say more and show more. I recently read an article about the birth of the postcard and the uproar it caused. Who would be willing to forgo their privacy for convenience, they asked. Some blamed the postcard for the decline of literacy, creating a need for abbreviations and initials. I think how they would cringe to see how we communicate via texting today. The article ended with the thought that we seek communication that is easy and effortless, hoping to foster genuine connection, but what really matters is the trouble we take. My goal is to take the trouble to stay in touch. Hope you join me.

Learning to Retire

Five months ago, I retired. I quickly grew to dread the questions "How's retirement?" "What are you doing with your time?" "Any big plans?" It was life. I was living it. I was struggling to allow myself time to do nothing and I was beginning to think this just wasn't my style. I missed my built-in social interactions; I missed responsibility; I missed solving problems. It took me about four months before I stopped having work dreams and could actually pinpoint how my life was changing. One of the things I realized I missed about not working was having a structure that required me to get up early, exercise, plan my creative time, etc. I thought of the saying, "An unlimited choice is no choice at all." That's how retirement felt to me.

It was harder than I thought it would be to make the transition from having to accomplish something in order to feel good about the day to accepting days where absolutely nothing was accomplished. I am learning that my to-do list doesn't have to have a time element. I started writing down goals for the month to help me focus without making me feel guilty about not being busy all the time. I stopped looking at the clock. I began to enjoy having to think about what day it was.

Another thing I hadn't counted on was the energy needed to maintain friendships. When I worked, I had built-in social interactions and although most of the people at work weren't what I called "good friends," there was enough sharing and laughing at work that I didn't give the significance to friendships that I should have. I'm more mindful now of the importance of good friends and more mindful of making plans. Standard walking dates, connecting for coffee and drinks, these have become much more important to me.

Immediately after retiring, I sometimes thought I wasn't really ready to quit working and I looked at the classifieds for "interesting" part-time jobs, gave thought to volunteer options, anything to fill my days and structure my time. It wasn't long though, before having the ability to take an unexpected trip or to start a project with no regard to time became much more appealing than any kind of a part-time job. In time, I may want a job again, but not now.

Several years ago, I had a blog called MonkeyMind. I never had many followers, but I posted over 300 entries about my life and for whatever reason, it gave me satisfaction to take the time to reflect, to think, to write. Blogging for me is similar to a meditative practice. I'm not really sure why I stopped, but I'm ready to begin again. In more ways than one.