How oarful

Nigel had never been on the river so we took the plunge and booked a 45 minute punt tour. Options were to have a professional steer it for you or to ferry yourself DIY style - not recommended unless you're up for the odd swallow of the river Cam. As always there were plenty of fools willing to do this and put not only themselves and the other river rats at risk, but some were even prepared to throw their small folk to the wolves as well. We saw this lad rescued just in the nick of time - he could have drowned for all the hen party and their topless guide cared.

Home

Back in my home town of Cambridge after at least 10 years since the last trip back. At this point I had not told my family that we were in town as the plan was to surprise them - fervently hoping not to give anyone a heart attack. At this point we had not yet donned our disguises to enable us to creep around the town hoping not to bump into anyone. 

Take my Monet.

In the grim old Yorkshire town of Soltaire - we fell in love with the Salts a wonderful old mill turned art gallery in honour of David Hockney. A poster was purchased, a piece of carrot cake imbibed and my integrity severely put to the test when after waiting 20 minutes to pay - I took the hump and sidled out instead. However after walking the length of the gallery and having a quick wee - the guilt overtook me and I went back in to have another Gogh. 

I'll wash, you dry

This brings a whole new meaning to doing the dishes. 

Yama - hahahaha

His Bach is worse than his bite. 

A first class Flyte

Both my Nigela and I were obsessed with the series Brideshead Revisited a BBC adaptation of the Evelyn Waugh novel about Charles Ryder and his friendship with a well to do English family called the Flytes. So today was a little wee pilgrimage to see Castle Howard in Yorkshire where the series was partly filmed. There were some lovely highlights - the walled garden and fountain, the domed chapel and a particularly nice sausage roll in the tea shop. Low lights were - 2 yammering rug rats who - however much we sped up or slowed down - just seemed to stay with us and the second much more serious disappointment was that they did not sell a really good copy of the Brideshead teddy bear - Aloysius. Instead of a manful copy of the lovely and slightly ratty old jointed boy they sold a cheap, floppy old nylon effort instead - which was totally unbearable.

Selling the sausage

A very edible dish at the Black Swan in York. 

Exit Nigel

It's official - the name Nigel is dead to the English. Apparently Jamie Olivier originally considered it as one of his son's name's but went with Buddy Bear Maurice and River Rocket Blue instead. Clearly Nigel just didn't have the same clout. By contrast however, Olivia is now the most popular name given to baby girls in England and Wales. Blimey - might have to rebrand again soon. 

Stiffy Tockee Kudding

An equal share of guilt. 

The key to a great hotel.

Howzat!

Mon Sherry.

I've taken to having the odd sherry - I'll be knitting and playing bridge next. 

Village life.

The Roebuck Inn - home of the chickpea fritter. 

Pilgrimage.

By the time I was 6 - both my parents were gone - my father killed in a head-on collision on his way to work one morning and 3 years later my mother passed away from lung cancer - though family lore was that she died of a broken heart. They're buried in Crewe with my grandparents and I visited the gravesite yesterday for the first time in 35 years. 

Shrek.

Mortal enemy - raw onions. 

Ploughing through.

Now this will put hair on your Chester.

Nowhere man.

George&Paul&John&Ringo&Nigel. 

Mr Potato Head.

Alert: Kiwi male seen eating his own weight in roast potatoes. 

Village of the damned.

2 old dogs and a fine little bitch. 

In tiers.

Upper Slaughter - a village thankful for its banana bread. 

Romaine calm.

Our dinner tonight ended in a mini snipe - you see it all started with the salad. We both ordered the same thing from the menu - a wonderfully described 'Mediterranean' salad, coming with roasted peppers, pine nuts, tomatoes, lentils and a few other assorted veggies. Fresh from night after night of pretty much anything 'battered' - we were desperate for something light and green. However when it arrived - this was anything but a salad - instead this was a solid circle of smooshed up beige goo with a few 'bits' thrown on top. Where was the cos? the spinach? the rocket? where was in fact, anything green in this damn salad? As we both took a tentative taste - we also realised that it was luke warm. Nigel made a manful job and finished his and I mauled mine about for a bit TBH it actually didn't taste too bad but it definitely wasn't what we had in mind when we ordered the Mediterranean salad. When the Cornish hen came to collect our plates, she asked us if everything was alright - we spoke in one voice but from opposing sides - Nigel saying everything was lovely and me describing why a ring of goo did not in fact constitute a salad.  There ensued a mini tiff about the point of complaining to people who couldn't do anything about it - which went on until our ice cream arrived and given that it looked exactly like it was described on the menu - all the waffle finally ended. 

Pulling the plug.

We checked into the most amazing hotel today in the Cotswolds - it had an actual BATH in the bedroom - I will say it again - it had an actual BATH in the bedroom. But after I got back from my gallery sojourn - Nigella greeted me with his chin on the floor - there was NO HOT WATER. Let me say this again - there was NO HOT WATER. And moreover there wouldn't be any for the foreseeable future - we would be long gone, before hot water would darken this bath. So we had 2 choices - 1. live for 2 days and 2 night without HOT WATER or move to their sister hotel. Nigel was not keen on option 1 and believed that we could fill the 20 gallon bath from the kettle - so taken with the room was he - that creating a small fire under the bath wouldn't have been beyond him. But with the amount of conditioner I have to put on my barnet to get a comb through it - there was no way I could cope with no hot water for 2 days so reluctant though he was to agree to it. We gathered up our assorted bags and moved a short drive down the street to their other hotel. As we walked into the new room we were astonished to see - it had an actual BATH in the bedroom.