Typically English Sights

On the Saturday after Megan and I arrived in the UK, we decided to go to a school fete with my life long friend Clare. Clare now has two bright and cheery young boys (William and Luke), the oldest of which (William) is preparing for his first year in school. The primary school he will be attending held a fete to raise money to build a new library.

It was a typical English summer day, sunny weather interspersed with dark clouds, cool winds and the promise of rain. Megan and I cycled from my parent’s house in Bosham over to West Ashling, admiring rolling fields and stone walls along the way.

Events at the fete were the Fancy Dress Costume competition, where the St Trinian girls made an obligatory appearance (you’ll just have to google it!); Belly Dancing Exhibition & the Tug of War (where the girls killed the boys, and the young taught the old a lesson!). Booth’s included children’s crafts, children’s obstacle course, a used bookstore, hotdogs and the all important beer tent, also serving Pimm’s.

Let me explain, Pimm’s is an English summer tradition, mostly partaken in the south, by those of us who want to hang out in the sun and get pleasantly plastered. Since we only have to ride our bicycles home, no worries! It’s made with water, fruit (lemon, orange) and some mint, with a healthy dash of Pimm’s. Naturally, the beer tent also serves ale, served at the perfect room temperature, and no, you won’t find a single cube of ice in sight.

So, there I am in the beer tent, getting my Pimm’s from Dad, and I look over to see the local Vicar (Reverend, Priest, Pastor, choose your poison!) in his summer uniform, of a black shirt, white collar and a rather nice white jacket. He is a friendly looking older gentleman, kind eyes behind grandfatherly glasses. He acknowledges me, smiles and holds up his pint of ale to take a healthy gulp, and sighs, appreciatively. It was just so perfect, and completely exemplifies my love of England, and quiet, content summer fetes.

This is also a perfect example of why you should never leave your camera at home, cause I don’t have a picture. Oh well, more to come, as I detail and organize my thoughts on our travels through Normandy. Whew, I hope you like to read!

Compassion

Who comes up with the names of these flowers?! This rose is named 'Compassion' - seriously! Will the mere view of it fill me with compassion? Compassion for...? Can't think I really need to feel compassion for the flower, maybe the scientist who's life work was to achieve this color - needs to get out of the lab a bit more, if you ask me!

I was so busy taking the photo that I didn't take the time to smell it - just resolved that and it smells incredible - sweet, fruity, not like a rose at all, but a delicious, ripe fruit! Unfortunately, the flower no longer resides on the plant, my father just cut it and put it in a loverly crystal bowl - now I feel compassion for the flower!

Oh, yes, I am in the motherland, so expect a few more updates.