Home......

We finally arrived home.


We had visited many gardens all over the world, while our poor little garden had to fend for itself pretty much, and yet it still found it, in its kind heart, to put on a show for our return.

We will reward it by doing some much needed weeding and feeding.
Bring on Spring........

PS..........

And you thought that was it, and that would be fair enough. However, you know me...I can never let a chance go by!
This would be a chance to bag Virgin Atlantic International. You may remember the saga going to UK, the seats were all wrong and we couldn't even sit together on the leg to London. I ended up sitting next to a lady with a baby, nice lady, nice baby....but.
As we checked in at Heathrow we were given seats in the middle of the plane, 2 of 3, not the two on the side as we had requested. Now before I left for the airport, I had checked on the website and noted that our seats had been confirmed, so why were we moved. No real answer, only that they don't confirm seats and that the plane is full and these are the only two seats left, basically - take them or leave them!
Were we angry? You bet we were. Once, maybe, but twice? Not on.
 
We asked to see the purser and told her what and how we felt. She came back later and told us she had written up a report and had been in contact with Hong Kong and we would be given our 2 seats on the side as we had requested to Sydney. The flight so far had been ok, the seats aren't overly comfortable and don't  recline as far as others, the food was crap.The woman next to me hardly touched hers and when asked if all was ok, she said apart from there being little content, the content that was there, was tasteless! Apart from that  - nothing!

Disembark in Hong Kong, wander, re-register, check the tickets - still piggy -in -the-middle, but one row further forward, the front row. How exactly was this going to help me? I told the attendant, there had been a mistake as we were assured by the purser on the last flight all had been sorted. No, no mistake. He had asked everybody if they wanted to swap seats and everybody had said No. There were new people on this flight who had only joined in Hong Kong, at least 8 of them in the side seats, some not even travelling together! How did they get priority over us? I can not fathom the seating allocation of Virgin but it stinks. This time I got to sit next to an old man with a persistent cough.
You can imagine the letter that is presently being composed by himself and will be shot off with a bullet.
Virgin Atlantic.......our premium economy seats......economy seats at a premium charge.
Probably not again.

Time for off....

Last drinks ladies and gentlemen.
Time to say our good byes to the pub dogs Jo and Tom and farewell to my baby sheeps who have faithfully kept me entertained.

Packing complete and the rain has come
Time to leave, our play is done...

The big plane awaits.....Heathrow here we come.....groan.
Kids....here we come....YAY.

Bateman's - Home of Rudyard Kipling

On the way to say farewell to Aunty Kay in Eastbourne, we stopped off at Bateman's, the home of Rudyard Kipling from the age of 36, who was by that time one of the most famous writers in the English speaking world. His success was enormous.

Bateman's was built in 1634, was bought by Kipling for 9300 pounds and came with 33 acres. He added to this as land became available and now there are 300 acres of rolling countryside to explore.
Apart from the gardens and walks you can tour inside the house where much of the original furniture remains. Some of the features include an Edison Phonograph which still works, and was played for us,

Kipling's Nobel prize certificate, daughter Josephine's Alphabet necklace from the Just So Story of the same name.
His study remains set up just the way he might have walked out of it the previous day. A delightful setting in which to create his stories.

He had a fascination with the automobile throughout his life and was asked to trial many experimental vehicles.

His 1928 Rolls Royce Phantom I remains in the garage where he left it. It was his favourite and he took the family on many trips. However, in the 36 years of touring, he never once drove himself!

Caroline better known as Carrie

Kipling married a bossy American named Caroline who kept his life in check. You would not be able to visit Rudyard if she didn't want you to. She was intelligent and gifted in her own way, writing poetry, and running the household with an iron fist. There was a good deal of tragedy in their lives as well as success.
On a boat trip back to America, both Kipling and his young daughter became gravely ill with pneumonia. Rudyard recovered, but sadly Josephine did not and died aged 6. He didn't get over the little girl's death and afterwards formed a close relationship with his son John. WW1 had broken out and Kipling encouraged his son to enlist. John's eyesight was poor, like his father's, and was turned down repeatedly. Kipling pulled a few strings with people he knew and got John enlisted into the Irish Guard. In 1915 John went missing and his body was never recovered, despite Rudyard going to France to search for him.
As well as losing these 2 children, they had another still born child, leaving them only with their remaining daughter Elsie. She married and lived a long and happy life, but had no children of her own, so the Kiplings never became grandparents which I find very sad, as I think Rudyard would have made such a fine grandfather. It was Elsie who gave the house to the National Trust, a true legacy.
At the bottom of the garden there is a watermill which still operates  today and sells its own stone-ground flour in the shop. Very fine and tasty too, John was disappointed to discover this too late to do anything about it. The frustrations of a would be baker..... 

 

Marle Place

We did drive out here 2 weeks ago nearly, probably a 30 min drive, only to find it was shut on Thursday. Today being Monday we try again. It's a garden originally designed in 1890, that we have been to before and were very happy to revisit.

Back of the House

Pergola covered with Wisteria

It also has the old house as part of it, still inhabited, but in this case the owners Gerald and Lindel Williams do a lot of work in the garden themselves. It's more of a wandering and wondering garden than a showy flower garden with tall hedges, a lawn tennis court in prime condition, a swimming pool and a sunken Italian garden with a lily pond.

 

Italian Garden

 

My memory told me we had stood on a little red bridge last time we were here, and sure enough we found it, sadly, not so red now.

The way it used to be...

The way it is now

There is a large lake at the bottom of the garden, relaxing and peaceful.
The garden has been in possession of the same family for 45 years now and where they used to have 20 gardeners in the previous centuries, today they only have 2 and 1 part-timer as well as the owners. In 1987 the Great Storm, or as they call it the hurricane, destroyed most of the trees on the property, with the exception of the large       in the main lawn. Since then they have planted 7000 replacements. A labour of love.

Happy Debra...

The Post Office

As we near the end of our trip and we look at how much we've accumulated, there is always the inevitable trip or trips to the Post Office to send excess stuff back so we're not hit with excess baggage costs. There is a trick to this so you're not hit with excessive postage costs either. Parcels need to weigh less than 2kg each, including the box they are packed in.
And so off I go with all my items in hand, clothes, cds, books and stuff and proceed to play box tetris to get them all balanced.
This PO is not user friendly. It's housed in a mini market which is responsible for the sale of anything used to pack goods, ie boxes, bubble wrap and tape. However, you don't know what you need to pay for, until it's all packed. So I wander to the back of the shop, to the PO area, laden with all my stuff, pack it all up and then have to take it all back to the front of the shop to pay for boxes etc, then lug it all back down to the PO area.
Packages sent, tick. Cards sent, tick.
Now the boxes need to be taped shut. As with nearly every other PO I have played this game, the girl behind the screen is happy to tape them for me. This is a service they are pleased to provide.....usually. Not this one.
 Misery just looks at me......
"What? Tape? Oh no dear. 'aven't got any tape"
And so, move all the boxes, find a roll of tape, storm up to the front counter, pay for it, storm back to the rear of the shop and proceed to tape all the boxes.
By this time, Misery has gone on her break, and a cheerful lass has come to take her place...
"Oh you have been busy...."
Three boxes all packed and taped...1.7kg, 1.795kg and 1.985kg.
SCORE. High five to me!
Now, one small parcel to go, but they don't sell smaller boxes do they. I have to leave the mini market, find a stationery shop, purchase a smaller box, go back to the PO, pack it up, tape it up and line up again, behind a woman who can't find the card she needs to withdraw money. She has every other bloody card in her wallet, but not the one to withdraw money...
 "Don't know what's wrong with me this morning," she rattles, "I know I had it here, but I just can't seem to find it now. Oh dear...."
Ten minutes later I'm out of there with another roll of bubble wrap for later, that I have to line up to pay for. Who should I be behind in the queue? Yep, and she's still wondering what's wrong with her this morning.
One more box to despatch on Friday morning....the all important beer glass purchased from The Castle Hotel in Inverness. At least I have the box, tape and bubble wrap secured. Posting should be a doddle.
I wish I hadn't said that........

Chops

Back in Frittenden, Kent.
A trip to the Butcher and new discovery. Not only do we purchase another Pork Pie, but we discover a new cut of meat. It's a lamb loin chop, from a rather large lamb, I might add, but a double one. They call them Barnsley Chops and they are yummy. You can have them halved if you wish, as you can see.
We also bought a round of Boerewors a South African type of sausage that this butcher has made himself. It must be good cause there was a South African chap in there buying up big. We were lucky there were any left. He said he thought they were pretty authentic, so we let you know......