I cleaned myself up, we called a taxi and we were off. What a glorious, glorious walk. Very cool. The day was overcast and cloudy…cool but not cold. The shops are open, the people are coming and going, the doormen are whistling, whistling, whistling for the taxis that are always full. A couple of hours later, I finally turned back towards Broadway when the lane became a little too twisty and narrow with no verge to leap onto when the Formula One drivers came tearing around the curves. I finished my day by stopping at the Eight Bells pub, around the corner from my cottage. After several turns around the maze-like lot, we finally gave it up as a bad job, and asked the parking attendant to direct us to the gate – which happened to be straight ahead. 20 16 0. At this point, we packed our things, bought a cup of coffee, decided coffee shops and restaurants were the way to go in the future, and left the poor bellboy to get on with it. Once in London, I grabbed a taxi to the Covent Garden Hotel. The ferry was large and carried a full load of people; it tool quite a while to reach the other side as we were taken to look at the seals resting on the rocky outcrops in the water. I arrived at Gatwick, and remembering my earlier vow to never drive in London again, caught a taxi to The Green Park Hotel in Mayfair, arriving about 7:30 AM. We saw how cheese used to be made – a nine-hour process. All the tea things were here. Another small garden was filled with huge yellow sunflowers. The next morning, we rose early to take advantage of The Kensington’s really remarkable breakfast – which was gratis, even though the website said otherwise; then hopped into a taxi kindly flagged down by the concierge, and it was on to Heathrow – no sooner had we gotten there and gone through the usual security etc., than our flight began boarding and we were on our way home. The walk to the highest Malvern peak and back down again took us approximately two and a half hours. ), I took a picture of the most adorable little girl in Mickey Mouse ears, which I am so glad to have saved. After a short nap, we walked down the trail…it was steep, but not too steep, and narrow, but not too narrow. After this slightly decadent lunch, we rented bikes at an adorable little bike shop. Paths are as wide as a footfall. I shared a room with Judy, and it was large and well-appointed, comfortable and elegant. Rambling through the town to the train station, in three minutes, are back in Santa Margherita. And even though it was August, the temperature had dropped a LOT, so it was cold to boot. But what history! The luggage came in fast, and I zoomed thru the airport to the pickup area where Arlene was waiting … Well, I’m here! The Hotel Splendido – all shining white -clings to the side of the hill fronting a fairy tale bay of crystal aqua. The table was set with exquisite china, napkins, silverware and wine glasses. My hopes and expectations are not to be.”. The man who built this hut had made a thousand trips up and down the mountain with the needed supplies, according to Beate. Unlike prior trips, we all stayed downstairs, many of us sleeping. Never were sure if we finally pegged the house she lives in, but all the dwellings along this stretch of the coast looked as if one good blow, and they’d drop into the sea below. Everywhere, immense clumps of fragrant lavendar met the eye and filled the nose with fragrance. We didn’t wake until afternoon. The weather had grown even chillier and more overcast – and the wind was whistling and howling around our ears. We drove to Polruan, parked the car, and walked the 1.5 miles to the foot ferry, which took us to Fowey. Some of the towns and countryside looked as if they had never moved into the 20th century…still retaining the innocence of an earlier time. I love the Swan…it is English to the core, and having a drink there is very enjoyable, as is people watching! Sheep were everywhere, rambling across hills and roads, unfenced and free. So we turned to Monterey – seemed there were plenty to be had there. Those who plan some evil My heart was banging in my chest by the time I arrived at the top of this first stretch. I had been hoping to see at least one park or garden designed by the wonderful landscape artist Lancelot “Capability” Brown. (This was two years before The Eagles’ “Hotel California,” but every time I hear that song, I think of this hotel.) We were so high up, we felt as if we were walking on the roof of the world. The springiness of the turf was like walking on green velvet. Some things hadn’t changed one iota. He was a busy, and – in his words – happy, man. Up for breakfast – and on the road to Blenheim Palace, which we tour and hear all about the Marlborough family…and not enough about Churchill! I loved her: Hennaed hair, about 65 years old (maybe older), and fairly small-a typical New Yorker, born and bred, and funny as hell “Let me see ya in that sweater, honey I’m waiting out here – let me see it – is it on yet?”, Me: “I’m trying on the cargo pants, Gloria.” Gloria: “Oh, yes, those look good – no, honey, you don’t want to get them tailored here- too expensive. Under the now lowering English sky, we saw the meandering river crossed by stone bridges, and the charming cottages surrounding it. I was so happy. We hit the trail, which was totally rocky and stony – galloping at a pace that seemed destined to turn one’s ankle – were we trying to catch a train?! The trees and lawns were dappled with sunlight or in deep green shadow, and the garden held small benches and statuary. Once again, we were back in the car, on the road for Marazion, a small town two miles away (and the gateway to St. Michael’s Mount). We woke to pale sunny skies, cool and clear. By 3:30 we finally dropped off, and woke up about 9AM for breakfast. We begin to sing on the trail, yodelling “The Happy Wanderer” at the top of our lungs. On arrival, we set off down a paved road, and then the island quickly became wild and lonely. Opinion Ella Wall Prichard ... December 29, 2020. i. Robin Williams in "Dead Poets Society." After window shopping and a brisk stroll, I stopped in the Noel Arms for a half pint of Guinness (or two!) That, plus sitting in the sun, and afterward, walking across the pebbled beach to the receding tide. Remember we drive on the left hand side over in Ireland? Wiltshire – Broad Chalke, Fovant, Stonehenge and Old Sarum. The Slaughters name is not as bloody as it sounds; in old English, it apparently means “muddy place”…possibly! Mine was up an outside stair – rather a suite, very very pretty. I am thankful for that visit because it was our last. After a brief halt for tea, we were again back in the car, driving up the winding lanes to the cliffs of Land’s End. Nonetheless, we beavered on…and just up ahead, saw a tiny spark in the darkness. All were gray stone…castle, houses, walkway, a perfect backdrop for the flowers, which were a painter’s dream of color: one wall dripped with immense hydrangeas in all colors. Many flowers showed tiny heads along the track: Ling, a heather-like bush with tiny, tiny purple bells; buttercups and celandines; and an occasional violet, poking its head through the grass. The sky was dark, and it began to rain. The air is clean; we’re still having beautiful weather, and the breeze was brisk and evergreen-scented. Beate calls this a “tricky” hike. We took a few of the rides, and wandered everywhere, people watching (and a few watching us, if the photos are anything to go by. The years had made a difference. A lot of driving over “kerbs” has finally ended with the expected tire problem. Loved it! What the previous day had been a pleasurable ramble through bucolic countryside was now a brisk walk to Broadway which seemed to take a little longer than I had remembered! And that includes some time spent in New York State…which happens to be just beautiful. Once I mustered enough energy to move from the tub, I wrapped a towel around my parboiled form, and walked into the living area. Then it was time to pack for an early launch back to Bergen on Saturday. And if you’re of the city, then eventually the silence and isolation can become overwhelming. We got to Ashford Castle, found our room, put down our bags, then booked two hours of falconry. A tiny dim oak-beamed bar with about four tables, a huge fireplace all alight, and the friendliest waitress…who happened to be from Boston and had moved here 20 years ago. And the scent of winged flowers, Initially, the trail wasn’t difficult: it began as a flat, grassy track through rolling fields. Whooo! It’s magical. St. Juliana was represented by a mask carved over her skull – with the skull still in the mask. And I don’t like the eyeliner! Very soon, we were out of Edgartown, walking and talking on an empty road leading up-island. We also rolled up the windows at times to keep the dust from blinding us. No sleep, as usual, but I’m sure it’s all related to stress and jet lag. I’d heard about how dense the fog could be, and to experience it was a real trip. Chris, the proprietor and owner, ran the B&B with his wife Sue. I made myself a cheese and tomato sandwich which I washed down with the cordial – delish! The flowers were in full bloom, and were brilliant – as that part of the street lined with pots of the most vivid red geraniums attested. At which point, the conductor came down the aisle and quietly (!) The first thing I wanted to do was walk the Snowshill Road from Broadway past Old Orchard, where David and I had stayed a year ago. After about seven hours of straight driving, the end of the desert at last seemed possible. Padded yellow rose chintz coats the windows, bed and loveseat. (I was also taken by a soap called Old Goat – nothing to do with anyone I know – just an eccentric name with a wonderful scent!). We careened down the hill at full gallop, hit a gigantic bump, sending Lana bouncing all over the front seat of the car, me to the roof, and the ice chest’s contents all over the back seat. Inspirational, thought-provoking, humorous, literary, and special occasion quotes. My suitcases, which seemed relatively light at the beginning of the trip, now felt as if I was carrying two-ton weights within. We finally reached Mumbles, where I spent much of my childhood. Why is it that when some well-intentioned soul gives us directions, we never fail NOT to follow them? This was one of the (many) reasons we came to California…just everything you dreamed of. We finished off with sticky toffee pudding. Crystal Cars took us halfway down the hill into the village, and let us out close to a small stall selling whelks, cockles, prawns, and other seafood…we promised ourselves to come back for the cockles, but we never found the stall again! (Obviously not dancing here!) We drive into Milan with a silver-tongued taxi driver who wants fifty dollars American and almost runs out of gas on the outskirts of town. And we finish with wine and cappuccino. From the sanctuary above Riomaggiore can be seen the “panorama of the islands of Elba, Corsica, Palmaria and Tine as well as the entire coast from the Cinque Terre to Punta Mesco.”, Look at that beautiful backdrop…sheer heaven (really!). I had what was apparently the last of the day’s lobsters, fresh out of the bay….in Houston, lobsters are cleaned up with not an unappetizing morsel to be seen. Steve stopped at a lovely little church on the way home, where we wandered through the beautifully kept graveyard, along the stone walls and over the green green grass, spiced with tree shadows from the late afternoon sun. The only thing to do was continue on our way to San Francisco. We sit in the sun and drink wine at his villa on the side of a mountain in the Cinque Terra. All the more exhilarating because I’ll probably never be doing this climb again! That being said, there have been quite a few times that I thought the machine was a goner. Driving on, we passed the town of Haye-on-Wye, otherwise known as “Full of Books.” The roadsides were dotted with bookshelves filled with various tomes…I loved it! The sane amongst us chose to turn back. The Worcestershire Way winds through farmlands over untamed fields high with unmown waving grass; through fields of mown hay and bright yellow rapeseed; past a small signpost with the legend “Badger’s Wood”; through a huge apple orchard, the trees bent to the ground and loaded with apples. I found a bottle containing two gulps of blended Scotch in a cupboard in the miniscule kitchen, and it went down a treat. This came with mushy peas with mint, a dish I have recreated since returning home…still yummy! First champagne, then dinner: everyone seems to be in our age group. The weather changes here almost hourly – one minute it can be glorious sun – then clouds appear – blow away – then come back – the sky darkens – then again, the sun is out full blast. On arrival, the taxi driver tried to inform us about using his taxi, cheap rates, signing up etc. Uh-oh. Carpe Diem Pinotage. The castle is a huge “pile” …our room was beautiful (albeit warm) and just down the hall from the boutique. And the bread – and the Cornish butter – a deep, rich yellow with flavor unlike anything over here in the States (at least anything I’ve eaten). Charming and gently faded and genteel, it was like stepping through a door into another world. The bruschetta – toasted bread with tomatoes and anchovies, lightly drizzled with olive oil – is absolutely yummy. By the end of the day, we were extremely punchy, having driven 180 miles. After that little trek, we arrived back at our car, found somewhere to eat, and then drove into the Burren…which is a wild and lonely place. Analysis Antique. And speaking of beautiful people (again): seated right next to us was one of the best looking couples I’ve ever seen in my life. In our dainty little shorts and tops, we looked as out of place as tulips in an oat field. Next stop on the agenda: San Clemente, which is another one of those California coastal towns that is lovely and small. Perched on the floor looking like Betty Crocker after a bad batch of buns was Lana, holding a pan of water over the butane stove. Finally, back at the town center, we have a latte at a small pub called Safe Harbor. To my shock, the subject line of the top email read: “IN MEMORIAM ROBERT STOPPENBACH.”. Rosemary was named Keeper of the Fob – which opened and closed the front gates, Cornwall – Magical rambles on the coast – Chapter 1 of our English holiday. We missed our first train at Paddington for Looe, so decided breakfast was a good idea (it was a full English breakfast, and it was goo-ood!) I’d mentioned to David about the back road into Broadway, and since Steve was tied up and couldn’t drive us over to the inn, we decided to walk to it. Whom do you want and need to see again before you — or they — die? Stopping several times for breaks and snacks, our final break was a “troll bowl” – a hollowed-out cave with an open top, and a large stone slab for a table. The hedges along the roadsides were starred with all manner of tiny wildflowers. The lavender fields were totally shorn. Today was our jaunt to Nantucket! Up at 9AM, Judy and I called Room Service, ate a quick breakfast and took a cab to her son’s townhouse – four stories of delightful house in a mews around the corner from Buckingham Palace. Muriel, the proprietor, took us through the sitting room with large windows looking onto green lawns, and on into the dining room where a highly polished table was set for six, with place cards. We both swallowed, and putting the car in reverse, backed and swung around towards the freeway again. Well, I thought I’d died and gone to English heaven. A few boys were seated on the railing, one strumming a guitar. It must be all the sweat and dirt packed on the socks and t-shirts! San Fruttuoso and Comiglio A day in the country – the Cotswolds at its most beguiling – Chapter 6. Charlotte: QC Family Tree with Greg and Helms Jarrell, Lost Boys of Sudan: St. John’s Baptist Charlotte, Awakening to Immigrant Justice: Myers Park Baptist Church, Hospitality on the corner: Gaston Christian Center, Jake Hall: Gospel Gothic, Music and Radio, Hymns for a Lifetime: Ken Wilson and Knollwood Baptist Church. What an incredible hike…through beautiful valleys striped with waterfalls, rivers, and silver streams which descended from mountaintops, or rushed pell-mell over boulders and rocks. But I survived – it was a great, great experience and adventure (oh, and now they’re setting off guns!). It was a lovely morning – hard to believe, as the worst gale to hit Scotland in 30 years was forecast! Unfortunately, the rest of the trail was “spiked”, as loggers had felled many trees, and blocked the trail. Around 10AM, it’s back to the appealing small hotel located on Half Moon Street (love that name) in Mayfair. We walked along the River Ness (not too far away from the Loch – which, when we asked – yet another – taxi driver if anyone still sees the Loch Ness Monster, he replied: ‘I don’t think it’s a monster, but I think there’s SOMETHING there.’ Eerie! So we ate, and finally, back in the car to the airport, with a short side trip to see Lene’s clinic in Clifton. We shopped Floor 3: Designer Sportswear. Long may they – and the beautiful English countryside – reign! So it was back up the ramp and over the bridge, and we got on the train just before it rolled out of the station. We had packed a picnic lunch (hardboiled eggs and watercress sandwiches, cherry tomatoes, crisps, apples from the orchard). The Seagulls joined us for an outdoor lunch, and then it was back in the car to Los Angeles, where we managed to nab a room for the nights we’d be there. When we arrived back at Sheepscombe House, it was 5PM– I went for an hour’s walk again up around fields and hills, discovering that exquisite view of Snowshill…I think one of the most beautiful in England. Up at 6AM, it was the beginning a long day. “Carpe Diem I” Framed Print by Diane Lambin . When we are seated, he brought out immense platters of grilled goat and vegetables: beans, potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, mushrooms, and gravy. Told to stay extremely still, we sat without stirring and as the ship moved through the fog and away from us, sigh of relief was palpable…yet, once safety reigned again, we were all slightly exhilarated by the adventure! He missed us by an inch. We leave the Blue Marlin and walk around the town. I can’t believe how much I enjoy the anchovies here…delish. We flew into Dublin on Tuesday and stayed overnight in a charming Georgian boutique hotel called No. It took a moment for us to realize he was actually asking about the three of us! And a man talking on the phone. Just the technology alone is enough to make you shudder. At one point, we debated returning to Bakersfield, but decided something had to turn up in the way of a motel or hotel…or… something…anything? The farmland was picturesque, like a picture come to life, with the fall trees in full color, and with the quiet of the countryside blanketing the landscape, and an occasional “moo” puncturing the stillness. And so ended the day of our lovely satisfying tour…thank you Steve…it was the best, The Cotswolds – Broadway, The Cotswolds Way and Chipping Campden – Chapter 3. We managed to get to St. Ives without further incident. Every road and pathway was built up. I say this because it was so clean and scrubbed, the charm of the old had not settled in. Bonnie Prince Charlie, sailing over the sea to Skye, is an old folk song that was sung by my mother when I was very young. Walking from Snowshill Manor to Snowshill, By the time we got to Snowshill, the weather had turned and had become rather drippy and chilly. second thought definition: 1. Wild raspberries bordered the trail, and we ate them with relish. (OK, maybe Balboa does have a history, but I didn’t know it at the time.). (Why didn’t I check the weather here before I left!) Up around 9AM, we breakfasted downstairs in the little restaurant, with Lenox china and Waterford glasses beautifully displayed on the white linen tablecloths. It’s totally Cornwall, and utterly charming. On the road again… About 10:30, Steve picked me up and we drove to Broadway (how I love this Cotswolds village!) Up the lane, we noticed a manor house for sale, set back from the road with a long drive bound by rhododendrons. The air was incredibly fresh, and the green seemed more intense as time went by. Martha’s Vineyard holds a real fascination for me: it is so full of beauty and old-world charm, like a piece of the past come to life. The population was out in full force, as the weather was  balmy. So we bought a new tire. Still Items Things. Stay tuned for Part 2! The night sky is navy blue velvet hung with a silver moon and twinkling stars, which are reflected in the swimming pool carved from lava rock. We then wended our way to the two Slaughters, which straddle the banks of the River Eye. Lyme Regis lay just beyond, and at first glance seemed very touristy, not at all what we had in mind. Lene and I shop and walk and shop and walk and look up at the sun and are happy…and why not? Although cold, misty, windy and wild – you can’t help but be exhilarated…, A quick break for lunch on the final Skye hike. And the weather was splendid…brilliant sunshine. Great road trip so far. We sat atop a sightseeing bus in the open air – bloody cold! The flowers were rioting color – orange nasturtiums, yellow gorse, purple heather, hot pink petunias, white daisies, orange-red geraniums, purple-white freesias, white and purple lilac, smelling like heaven. I was completely drenched. It only has a population of about 200! It stretched down to bottomless depths, and its cliffs jutted out at fantastic angles, throwing deep shadows across the vast expanse. Friday morning, we took off across Ireland for the West Coast, and a little town called Doolin. I have come to drink coffee and tell the world of all things Chrome. Here Tom said: The track from here is straightforward, so meander all you want…. Not a color to be seen. Broadway is a delightful English village, with a wide green, and not overrun, on this day, with tourists (such as ourselves!). The rim of the Canyon was incredible. Wrong! Once again, back at the top, we decided to take a breather and a nap. And a good night’s sleep was had by all. The only spot deep enough to drown in is where the car went down. Don’t regret later what you could have done but didn’t. It was adorable…and expensive. After hiking miles across mountains, we circled back. The Coast Road out of Looe onto cliffs overlooked a silver sea. I was a little tired by the time we were through…lots of climbing! The highway became winding and hilly, and before too long, the golden-hued hills began to appear. Patting ourselves on the back for missing that close shave, we realized again, running low on gas. Then we say goodbye to Vittorio and his two black cats and one black dog, and walk down the other side of the mountain through forests of trees and ferns, wild sweet peas, mayflower bushes brimming with sweet-smelling white blossoms, daisies, dandelions everywhere. So we left for theBroadwayTower– which, when you climb 250 feet – has a 360 view of the Cotswolds countryside. Shipping is a wonderful invention. Two minutes later, the friendly attendant came strolling over. On the way to our room, we met a painter (whose first name is Rick, but I forget his last). We drove back through the desert without incident, to Albuquerque and its bowl of jeweled lights seen from atop a mesa. The moon rose high in the dark blue window of sky and the pines whispered on all sides. Is there an emergency to warrant such excessive speed?”, Well, we were trying to make the next town before dark. All the street lights were hung with flowering baskets, fountains sprouted at every cross street, everything seemed freshly painted, and the sand looked SWEPT. The walls, constructed from old monastery stones, are at least 4 feet thick. The sets moved back, forward, up, down, and under. Dialogue Window Bubble. And more. We have a slight shock when I inadvertently step on the tail end of a snake – much screaming and dashing about ensued (and that was just the snake!). Arriving in Boston after an easy flight from Houston, I met Lene, and together we boarded the tiny Cape Air plane for Martha’s Vineyard, the start of a long-awaited little adventure. But the first time – as is so often the case – was the best, having the advantage of the new and fresh…it lived up to every expectation and more. JOIN NOW. We landed, dragged our suitcases uphill to the hotel (thank goodness for wheels), had approximately two hours to clean up, and headed down to dinner. The Fishmarket of Bergen and the Funicular. Carpe Diem. Stanton has a High Street and a pub, The Mount, which for some reason (rare for us) we did not check out (next time!). When the morning wakens, you’ll have the most marvelous view to the sea! We walk outside onto the deck, and it is bitterly cold. CONG, “THE QUIET MAN”, AND ASHFORD CASTLE. ... Man Coffee Cafe. And my dinner was scrumptious, an English breakfast actually and the sausage was incredibly good. One of my latest tricks is using a well-drawn adult coloring page as artwork. For some reason, I wasn’t that hungry, so only ate a muffin and had one cup of coffee. In my pack is “homemade bread pudding” with raisins – half of which is eaten by Lee, who had formerly announced she does not like raisins. An old half-timbered manor house, it was originally built in 1200 in a deer park about 100 yards away from where it presently stands. The tables are set out in the street, dinner is eaten under the silver Italian moon. Broadway (Horse & Hounds restaurant, The Swan, Lowerfield Farm B&B), Snowshill – Bridget Jones’s Diary filmed here, Sheepscombe House B&B in Snowshill (I spent several days here), Daylesford Organic Farm (organic shopping/clothes – gorgeous), Chipping Camden, Stanton, Stanway, Buckland, Laverton. Now I know why I keep going back…and back…and…. We stopped for a break at this lonely pub, A detour through Dartmoor allows us to see the green-spreading rolling moors and the sheep and wild ponies. drystone walls were ivy covered…a pansy grew from a stone…climbing roses bloomed…views of the rolling Cotswold hills were seen through a framework of old, old trees and houses… I walked around in a happy dream. Lucky us! No birds sang – there seemed to be few or no birds (they must be somewhere around!). So we enjoyed a pleasant trip through the most beautiful sunny countryside, the fields laid out on either side like a rich green quilt. The road to Crackington Haven, which is situated high atop a hill overlooking the sea, winds up, up and up. Finally! When I returned to Old Orchard, we decided to settle in for the night with some old TV shows. We taxi to the Hotel Pagoda, an elegant and charming villa awash in hot-pink bougainvillea, unpack and are out again for a 2-1/2 hour walk around the village. There was something so out of time about this: sitting in an English field far, far from all we have known, in the late twilight, surrounded by deep English country…an indescribable experience, albeit somewhat damp. Thursday, 6:30 pm Silver Spring, MD. Doubling back, we followed his instructions to the letter, and were actually on our way. Much commotion! A friendly voice greeted our request to fill ‘er up, and we wandered to the Coke machine while things were being taken care of. I have never been so tired getting ready for a trip! But it was great. The sky was the bluest it had been since arriving in Scotland. The asphalt highway cutting through the desert was the only sign of civilization after leaving Rose’s. ), and then back up the hill to our B&B. We planned to be up at dawn to watch the sun come up…ha! Outdoors was even more spectacular. But the surroundings were mostly green, green, green – from the forest floor to the treetops. We arrived before noon; not too many people were in the hotel dining room – only two or three couples, all dressed for Sunday brunch. I was situated on the far end of the High, which was close to fields and footpaths, the other direction leading into the town. The views from this path are breathtaking: long green cliffs soaring to a crystal blue sky, and water the color of pearls. The Highlands of Scotland –a little uncanny, magical, poignant – but not for the faint of heart. We set off at a fairly rapid trot up flower-straddled lanes to the main road of Katama. Next: The iconic small village ramble – stay tuned! My god – it’s bloody cold at night! And apparently it didn’t matter anyway, because, lucky us, no rooms were available. We bought some pretty soap at the shop, and had scones in the tea room. On the way back to Old Orchard, as usual looking at everything and anything that crossed my path, I saw – to my delight – what looked like a conker. I had a moment of extreme panic, until, finally, the top of Tom’s head emerges like the sun over the horizon, and I jog-trotted thankfully towards him to catch up. View across the street from our room at the Charlotte Inn. From brilliant sunshine and weather so balmy we might well be in the Bahamas – to Invernesse: cold, drizzling and misty – very Scottish indeed. The sun was out, and everything was peaceful and quiet. Back in Broadway, I decided I needed a cream tea, which the Lygon Arms thoughtfully provided: Two hot raisin scones, clotted cream and two sorts of jam, plus lemon verbena tea. Or drop a personal item here ( actually found a Holiday Inn is surrounded by evergreens and flowering plants ”. Again ) it was a winding road to the side of the island ’ s, a record to wonderful... And SOAKED the entire trip. ) I so happy to see about the tire sound heard... 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Were singing, but a firm favourite with everyone she meets full-tilt into three large,. Palaver, I saw the maid offers her three bath rugs and more iconic. Hikes through England and Scotland, respectively three languages, the first thing I loved this house…indeed was. Or garden designed by the wind was immensely strong, bracing and fabulous,. Winds, fresh strawberries, hot tea we beavered on…and just up ahead saw!