I am on holiday, Day 5

It rained most of the day yesterday, but there was joy in our hearts, for we were with good friends in Hastings and there were Tunnock's Wafers and cups of tea to be drunk.  We had fish 'n' chips for breakfast; we waited until 11.50am and then scurried down the hill pretending to be North American and on our way to "brunch", which was a poor excuse for chips before midday.

Here, therefore, is breakfast.  Visitors to England: please do not do things like have fish and chips in pubs  or on cross-Channel ferries and think that they are the Real Deal. If you are going to do it (and contrary to popular belief we do not have fish and chips every day, stuffing them into our gaping maws straight from 1923 copies of The Times of London whilst wearing bowler hats and riding on Routemaster buses), find a British person you trust and who wears good-quality shoes and ask them for a recommendation.  The seaside is often a good place, and remember: this is not France; you will not be getting long thin chips.  Come to think of it, you are not in North America either, so a "chip" is a fry and a "crisp" is a chip.  Excellent.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering around in the rain looking at things. Here are some of the things we looked at. Clearly the Tub Man was by FAR my favourite:

I think this suit is made of winkle shells painted silver. They are real. The model is clearly not real which is a relief, as if he were alive he would be trying to stab you in the eye with a winkle pin.

The evening passed in a Thai restaurant in a bookshop, and the night on an extremely comfortable sofa.  The French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist to whom I am married are still married, but sometimes the nights are long and restless and I must sleep alone watching Gossip Girl and Four Weddings on my computer.  (The cat was in the restaurant.)

Today I must go up the A21 to Sevenoaks and thence to Gatwick, where we will board a Royal Air Maroc flight to Marrakech.  Judging by their reputation, we are unlikely to get there until next Tuesday, so think of us around 1pm and bark "Godspeed" at the sky.

Pip Pip!

NWM

I am on holiday, Day 4

Yes. Now we are in Hastings. It is nice.  We are watching the X-Factor on ITV Player and shouting. I would like to set fire to the girl with the stupid mohican.

Here is our bed. It is in the perfect house of dear friends.

Here is the view out of the window outside our room:

And what is this? It is yesterday's breakfast.  I could not eat it all with my mouth, but it was quite delicious. Underneath that egg and salmon is a potato rosti.   Filth!

In the afternoon, to Sissinghurst Castle, which I love with all my heart like this: swoon.

Today, no doubt, there will be fish 'n' chips. Tomorrow, there is Marrakech.  Ouf!

Pip Fishy Pip

NWM

I am on holiday, Day 3

I am sure you will agree that my Travelblogue is really quite the thing.  Soon everyone will be doing it and there will be travel blogs springing up all over the place.  I wouldn't be surprised if the "next big thing" would be for e.g. books with photographs of places to go with pertinent information for the traveller. We shall see.

But to business.  As ever, I bring you:

a) a photograph of the bed we slept in that night;
b) a photograph of breakfast;
c) another picture (or maybe two) of something we saw that day.

Yesterday was wet, but this not stop us from going to Whitstable (fishy), some gardens that were broken, Rye (always excellent) and Dungeness (creepy and excellent as usual).

Here we are:

Bed (same one as the night before, but as you can see, without the cushions and bedspread; this is not a flattering picture of either bed or room, both of which are magnificent):

Breakfast.  Splendid, properly splendid; magical food of delicious that meant we were  physically unable to think about food again until 3.30pm that afternoon:

Nice hut: 

Cat of Doubt: 

Today, to Sissinghurst to look at the gardens; to Cross in Hand to look at a friend, and to Hastings, where we will be for the next two nights. Whatever next?!

Pip By The Sea Pip

NWM

I am on holiday, Day 2

So far, so good. Yesterday was passed jetlagged and starey, eating Space Dust in Kensington Gardens and a dinner of the Gods at Bocca di Lupo.  (Do not talk to me about what happens when you put radishes with parmesan and truffle oil. It is good. Very good. But also a bit dirty.)

This morning, after a night of excellent non-drug induced sleep in the bed photographed yesterday, my "husband" and I went to have our hairs cut in D'Arblay Street. After that, to M&S, where I purchaysed a navy blue dressing gown in a generous size, and to Muji, where I purchaysed a nylon bag for my overspill. 

"What did you have for breakfast?", I hear you cry, remembering my promise from yesterday and a bit before that. I had this at The Breakfast Club, also in D'Arblay Street:  

Not bad, but the egg was a bit watery.

After that, we got in the hire car (which is not a Vauxhall, and is therefore excellent), and drove off through London: over Vauxhall Bridge, through Camberwell and Peckham and Poo Cross Gate and onto the A2 and M2, where it rained and rained and vicars drove at 2 miles an hour.

"I have never seen the White Cliffs of Dover", said the French-Canadian veterinary research pathologist to whom I am married. "I shall take you there forthwith",  I said, and off we went.

It was quite good. I had a prawn sandwich, and the pathologist, a packet of parsnip crisps. The weather wasn't all that, but the cliffs looked cliffy and English people were sitting in their cars having a little rest:

We went for a walk, me in my unsuitable shoes and the pathologist in his sensible shoes. It was quite good, then it started raining quite hard so we came back, and I went and had a wee.   The White Cliffs of Dover are National Trust, of course, which meant that the words "stop telling us the fucking tap is broken - we know it is" became this:

Then we came to our B&B.  It is so good I am not telling you where it is unless you really want to know, and if you do, you can ask me by sending me an electronic letter. It is 10 minutes outside Canterbury and toppermost.

I shall end this post by showing you the bed I am lying on at this very moment: the bed under the ancient skis; the bed that I will soon get in to for a massive kip.  In the bed,  I will dream about the dinner I have just had with my "husband" in the restaurant (in Canterbury) we had dinner in the first night we met EXACTLY four years ago TODAY. It will be quite a cheesy dream, but a good one - a bit like those dreams in which you are given an old pony who ends up being a top showjumper.

Yours in burp,

NWM

I am on holiday, Day 1

Yes. I am in London. It is the first day of our holiday and so far it is great.

The flight with Air Canada last night was, as usual, awful, and included a $100 charge for 2kgs of excess baggage. But no matter. We are here and so, as promised, is a photograph of the first bed we are sleeping in at the house of our dear friends 'n' Top Hosts, C 'n' J. (J is a surgeon; my own "husband" is a pathologist, so clearly we had a gay old time tonight trying to work out who was going to carve the pork).

The bed looks mighty tasty, what with no (0) sleep on the flight last night, the 5 hour time difference, the fact of its comfort and its jolly nice Designers' Guild cushions. Here it is:

I am reading The Woman in White and loving it rather, in the full knowledge that at the earliest opportunity I will be buying the new Jilly Cooper novel and devouring it as I would a giant bag of M&S Cheese Balls, inevitable after-effects and all.  

Anyway. Back to today.   I have no other photograph of something that happpened today, as I promised in my previous post, but I can tell you what I had for breakfast: a 5am muffin made out of the human dust of previous Air Canada passengers, and a 9am Mystery Panini from Costa Coffee in Paddington Station that repeats upon me still. 

Tomorrow, to Kent. Is it going to get more interesting? I do not know, but I am sure a good night's sleep will help. 

Pip - and also Pip

NWM