Friday, July 13, 2018

Well, I never!

Back in the UK, after a sorry goodbye to the Firstborn, we headed north to Lancashire for some more family stuff. Naturally proud of their bit of England, they took us out and about to some lovely places that really deserved more time and attention than we were able to give them. There was a bit of a food theme going on, and one of the first places we went to was the Bowland Food Hall in Clitheroe which had shelves and shelves of tempting things (gin and tonic gourmet popcorn!) including - unexpected joy! - a single bottle of EINST├ľK ICELANDIC WHITE ALE!!! So I snatched that one up, to take back home and savour.
We went to have lunch at the Inn at Whitewell, where we stayed last time we were up this way, in the room that featured in the first 'The Trip' movie. It was just as gorgeous as ever, above a stream and with a classically English rural view. 
Afterwards we cruised through gorgeous summer countryside and cute villages, past fancy schools and  mansions, and stopped at Lytham, where the fishmongers was as full of enthusiasm as fish (and shrimps for potting) and other home-made temptations. Not so impressed with the plastic-wrapped swedes I saw in the grocer's, though, for goodness sake.
Then the sky went grey as we drove up the coast, so the classic ghastly glories of Blackpool and the nearby uninviting beaches made us glad again that we live in New Zealand where we do that sort of thing properly. You know, with blue sea, sand, and warm(er) water that you actually want to get into, and it's not something to boast about afterwards.
Back at the house, the sun came out again, there was Wimbledon on the TV, papers to read, crows cawing in the trees, the church clock striking periodically - truly, it couldn't have been any more English. So we were converted again to loving it here. But only as a place to visit - it's time to go home.

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