Rod and Lissy's grand UK adventure

We've been counting down for weeks and Lissy (of my Danish adventures in July) and I were beside ourselves with anticipation - although it was Rod who was on his first adventures beyond his native shore.

But eventually the day came where I had to bolt up to Birmingham after work to collect them from the plane from Oslo, and we have had the loveliest time!
So lovely to be able to put them up in a proper home, not shared with anyone else, to wander over to the local pub and start them on the first of many English ciders. Brekkie the next morning (eggs from Paula's chooks, bacon, sausages and toast - a full English except for stinky ol' beans!) proved well necessary. Then we packed up pork pies and scotch eggs and headed up to the medieval markets in Warwickshire, calling in at Kenilworth castle on the way home, where new Elizabethan gardens are nearly finished. I didn't realise until that afternoon that Lissy, in all her European travels, had never been to England either. So it was SO COOL watching them go gaga over their first English castle: Lissy's face when she realised the extent of the massive kitchens was pure impish chefly grin. Rod was gawping from ear to ear by the time we left - although what really seemed to amaze him most was how GREEN everything is, after Melbourne's parched gardens and lawns.

Next day we started by fortifying ourselves with a proper stodgy Sunday roast, at the 'Tolkien Pub', the Eagle and Child in Oxford: the place JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, and their brothers and friends used to gather to (according to local lore) take the piss out of elf stories and drink the health of the landlord. Emerging back into gathering dusk (it was nearly 4pm, after all!) we found the French market (sausage, cheese, mmmm), and wandered past the Bodleian, the Sheldonian and some of Oxford's grand ol' dames of architecture. After stocking up on stinky goodness we hit the Ashmolean - another place I can't believe I still hadn't visited.




Come Monday, the one place Rod really wants to go was Stonehenge. We drove south through soggy rain and nearly got blown off Uffington Hill looking for the white horse (Britain's oldest), then stopped in at the pub in the middle of the stone circle at Avebury so Rod could satisfy his craving for bangers and mash. Then suddenly, high on Salisbury plain, just as the sun broke though clouds (it really was like a moment in a movie!) there it was. Squat bluestone beside a motorway. An icon of Britain . My third visit, and it's still quite magic every time - solid and understated in a way that is somehow totally British.

It was getting dark, but Salisbury cathedral was open 'til 5.3o, so (just for kicks) we nonchalantly wandered in to see the magna carta. And 1200 year old books, and all the other cool stuff that lives in the Salisbury chapter house. You can't take photos in there, but even the outside is pretty impressive.... see?Re-enactors all - we were agog, and I couldn't help bragging on facebook. It's days like these that remind me how sodding blessed Ants and I are to have this amazing home (however temporarily), good work, great friends, and access to incredible history, music and even decent food (we stocked Lissy up on crumpets, vintage cheddar and sweetie goodness in Sainsbury's). All on the doorstep of the stuff from which legends have been made.

They headed off Tuesday, leaving me feeling more in touch with the stuff that matters than I have in some time. I feel a bit like I've been allowed to make other people's dreams come true, and at the risk of sounding conceited, that feels a bit special.