The Social Calendar

No sooner were we back from the north than we were off again.  We had a delightful Sunday lunch at Lavenham with cousin Gill, her husband Chris and two of their daughters, and Chris's brother Philip dropped in later for a chat.  Gill and the girls had cooked a splendid lunch, and we had a chance to admire their pretty garden: their approach is quite similar to ours - cottage garden style, and natural feeling.  They are about to have their terrace re-laid, which will formalise things a bit, but it's a sensible move, and one that we took last year in view of the advancing years.  Travelling was curate's egg.  Hither was very slow, and Dotty seemed convinced that we had to divert via dozens of roundabouts at Basildon to avoid some event (of which we found no trace).  Thence was easier - a dogleg to Colchester, then a smooth ride in via the A13 (route avoiding M25) and over the bridge at Dartford. 

Incidentally, given that Dotty had no idea about the road layout in parts of modern day Essex, I went looking for a means of updating her.  Messrs Garmin suggesting that we pay £74.99 for the privilege, we have pretty much decided to get an up-to-date paper altlas and, in due course to replace Dotty with a more recent model that doesn't demand payment every time we want to try something new.

We'd a few days to draw breath, launder, clean, garden and cook, then on Thursday Joan and Michael arrived to share a bit of their six-week European tour with us.  They have spent some time in France and in London, and we had fun showing them a bit of Kent.  This included a view of Penshurst Place from the functions entrance, where we were treated to a filthy look from the noble gentleman as we turned round to leave.  We've met, but he'd quite understandably forgotten me: given the glare, I elected not to remind him.

Next day, we took Joan and Michael for a trip on the Kent and East Sussex railway, just for fun, after lunch in the good old Café Rouge in Tenterden (Thank you, Joan!).  The railway was running a couple of steam engines yesterday, and the ride from Tenterden to Bodiam through the Weald and across the Rother Levels was pleasant and varied.  We travelled in a Victorian three-axle third-class coach which was, I ought to say, less than comfortable, however authentic behind an 1874-vintage Terrier locomotive.

We reckoned that we had just enough time to walk from the station to the castle and back to catch the last train of the day, so ambled up past banks of blackberries to the castle grounds.  I went into the ticket office and flashed my much-used Life Membership card, asking for advice on how to get a replacement, since it is now quite badly split.  The young man on duty said there was probably a membership services phone number on the card.  He was quite right: 01-464 xxxx.  A number which has changed twice since my card was issued.  This means that I've been using my 'admit two' card for over 25 years.  I suspect I may have had my life membership sub back several times over.  I called the twice-revised number a moment ago, where a polite young woman told me that it had been the NT membership services number many years ago, but no longer was.  Je m'en doutais.

Still, the young man in the office at Bodiam, confronted with an elderly geezer with a venerable membership card, and maybe slightly embarrassed at his inability to provide the current membership services number, declined to take payment for our two guests, and issued me with four entry tokens!  We strolled on up the path towards the castle, and in due course paused to let an eight-seater golf buggy pass.  He stopped to offer us a lift, which was welcome, since Michael has pain in his knees.  The driver then suggested we get someone to whistle him up when we left, so he could take us back to the station!  In the castle there was a costumed presentation of the techniques involved in building the castle back in the 14th century, and of life there.  

Joan and Michael, Bodiam

Fascinating, though the male actor's loose cough was a shade worrying!  Joan and Michael scrambled up the spiral staircase to the top of the central south tower while we did a bit of people-watching - and fretting about whether the intrepid pair would make it down in time for the last train back to Tenterden!  Well, the boy on the main castle gate soon sent for our transport, and we had a minute or two to watch the mallards fighting the giant carp in the moat for the odd scraps that visitors were throwing to them.  It was enough to tell our buggy jockey that Michael was a leading engineer in the development of electric vehicles for animated conversation to ensue all the way back to the station.  We were there in good, if not generous, time for the train, and returned to Tenterden behind a wartime import tank engine of the USA class.  It packed a few more horses than the old Terrier, but lacked the charm. 

Joan having been somewhat astonished at the presence of a pudding called Eton Mess at one of our lunchtime venues, Martyn produced a fine essay in the medium last night, following a main of Speldhurst sausages and mash with roast veggies.  J&M have left today, a pound or two heavier, but not before visiting the 27th Canton of Switzerland up in the loft.  Martyn had got a lot of trains and the cable cars working, so I got on with a spot of housework while they oohed and aahed at the model railway. 

Travelling at the weekend is always worrying, so it's probably as well that Michael opted to go for the earlier of the available trains.  Just as well, since it was routed via the old London-Dover line via Redhill and Croydon.  We find no signs of problems on the next stages of their journey, but cross fingers.

Back here, Darby and Darby, it has all gone quiet again.  Leftover Speldhursts toasted in leftover bread for lunch.  A propos, I had baked what was meant to be a long thin loaf to slice up for bruschette.  It turned out more like a gros pain than a ficelle.  Memo to baker: a standard 600g load of duff makes one pan loaf and two ficelles.  Baker:  Noted.