No strangers
Another stroll to Icart this morning, which was stunningly beautiful. Richard came to collect us this afternoon, and drove us up to the Vale for Sunday lunch with Mrs Fleming, June - Jane's lady in waiting - and Bob and Gina who we met at the wedding reception. Bob had gone to Copland High School like me, but a few years before. His opinion of that establishment the same as mine. We all scarfed an absolutely delicious salad with more champagne in the back garden. Really good fun and much chatting and the afternoon drifted by in good cheer.
After some time, Jane drove us back to the hotel. A quick snooze and I snuck out to take photographs of a local field. Then we had our final Barbarie feast. We both had roast duck leg served on a bed of red cabbage, and I am not sure what kinds of stuff they put in the cabbage, but it was entirely good.
Repaired to the bar for a Rocquette cider which is excellent. Listening to Frank Sinatra being played there, and had a sudden craving to hear Strangers in the Night, which wasn't satisfied. Both tired, so we drifted back to our room, which gave me the chance to watch highlights of Manchester United being beaten, which I'm afraid is almost as good as watching Chelsea win.
Below your favourite blogger in his favourite place, a hatted Richard and Jane, the cliff face which sparked the lines from my Remembering Cliffs poem 'The cliffs are full of faces, great granite heads/petrified just as they lifted from sleep', a hedge I am always photographing and a ploughed field.
Another stroll to Icart this morning, which was stunningly beautiful. Richard came to collect us this afternoon, and drove us up to the Vale for Sunday lunch with Mrs Fleming, June - Jane's lady in waiting - and Bob and Gina who we met at the wedding reception. Bob had gone to Copland High School like me, but a few years before. His opinion of that establishment the same as mine. We all scarfed an absolutely delicious salad with more champagne in the back garden. Really good fun and much chatting and the afternoon drifted by in good cheer.
After some time, Jane drove us back to the hotel. A quick snooze and I snuck out to take photographs of a local field. Then we had our final Barbarie feast. We both had roast duck leg served on a bed of red cabbage, and I am not sure what kinds of stuff they put in the cabbage, but it was entirely good.
Repaired to the bar for a Rocquette cider which is excellent. Listening to Frank Sinatra being played there, and had a sudden craving to hear Strangers in the Night, which wasn't satisfied. Both tired, so we drifted back to our room, which gave me the chance to watch highlights of Manchester United being beaten, which I'm afraid is almost as good as watching Chelsea win.
Below your favourite blogger in his favourite place, a hatted Richard and Jane, the cliff face which sparked the lines from my Remembering Cliffs poem 'The cliffs are full of faces, great granite heads/petrified just as they lifted from sleep', a hedge I am always photographing and a ploughed field.
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