When we went out to our car to head off on a long scenic drive from Kent to the Cotswolds, we noticed that one of our tires looked a bit low. As we headed out of town we looked for a service station to put some air in. Well, we really didn’t come across a station as we left town and and quite oddly we didn’t find one the whole way to Hastings. But by that time, we realized that our tire was more than a little low on air. We had a full-fledged flat tire. With nowhere to pull over we finally managed to make our way to a residential street so we could call for help. Thankfully John needed his work Blackberry to work while were in the UK so we had a working mobile phone. We called the emergency number for Hertz who then dispatched an Automobile Association van that showed up in about 45 minutes and changed the flat tire. But the very nice AA technician also told us that the tire was in shameful condition and that two of the other tires were in a similarly bad shape and shouldn’t be driven on. So we got back on the phone with Hertz who directed us to call ATS, one of their service providers to look at the other two tires.

We made our way to the nearest ATS which was only 4 miles away. The very helpful people there fixed up the other two tires. Their report indicated that 3 of the 4 tires on the car were in illegal condition and would not pass an inspection. In the UK, the tire tread has to be at least 1.6 mm deep to be legal for driving. On three of our tires the tread was a whopping 0.0 mm. I even overheard one of the techs say that some of the treads were less than zero. Essentially Hertz had us hurtling down the motorway in a deathtrap.

When all was said and done the whole process put us about six hours behind schedule. Gone was our chance to see Wherwell, a pretty village along the river Test. Gone was our reservation for lunch at Marco-Pierre White’s Yew Tree Inn. But in the end we made our way our wonderful B&B just outside of Winchcomb in Gloucesterhire. With the long English evening, a bit of Victoria Sponge I had picked up at M&S, and nothing but the sound of bleating sheep we couldn’t have been happier.

(And by the way, when we returned the car to Hertz, the first thing the agent said was that they wouldn’t charge us for the new tires! Then she told me that since the car was fixed on Wednesday, they would only charge me for the rental from Wednesday to Sunday. I guess she thought that we should pay for every day that Hertz wasn’t actively putting our lives in danger. When I very firmly, but politely told her “No, I won’t pay anything for this rental.” She seemed perplexed. I went on to explain the gravity of Hertz’s negligence in giving us a car that was illegal and not roadworthy. Finally, after explaining the UK law to them and uttering a few words about endangering our lives in this illegal vehicle she finally went off to speak to a manager before agreeing not to charge us anything.  Now I just need to get our money back from the prepaid portion that was paid to AutoEurope.)

[6/21/12 UPDATE: The Area Operations Manager from Hertz tracked me down to apologize for my experience. He not only noted that steps were being taken to ensure the same kind of thing didn’t happen again but he also acknowledged that his team’s customer serviced approach could use some improvement. His simple acknowledgement of the challenges we faced goes a long way to restore my confidence in Hertz.]

Our B&B is the house on the left in the clump of trees.

Believe it or not, these narrow roads don’t scare me half as much as the narrow ones with the lines down the middle. At least on these everyone admits it is narrow and pulls over as necessary.

Our home for three nights. With only the sound of sheep to lull us to sleep.

Every B&B should have a Saxon church next door.

As you have already seen, our penguin-filled hotel in Rye was absolutely charming. I could have easily plopped down on the bed and taken a nice long nap. But the charm of Rye beckoned. We were lucky enough to be in town on one of the two days that Lamb House–the home of Henry James, E.F. Benson, and other literary lions (and lionesses)–was open. There isn’t a whole lot to see at Lamb House but with our National Trust membership, we didn’t have to pay so I wasn’t too disappointed.

I had been to Rye once before in 1992 when I was working in London. The town was even more charming then I remembered. Rye is almost coastal, and one can glimpse the sea across the estuary and marshes. The oldest part of town centers on the 1100 year old church and the compactness of the area, the cobbled streets, the way small lanes meet up with other small lanes, and the remnants of an ancient castle really make the place feel like a wonderful film set. It is a little hard to explain the feeling this gives one, but it really allowed me to step back in time. I loved seeing it again.

For those who don’t know, the great Mapp and Lucia by E.F. Benson was set in Rye (aka the fictional town of Tilling). If you haven’t seen the 1980s TV adaptation of that book you really must. It was filmed in Rye to great effect and had an amazing cast that included Prunella Scales, Geraldine McEwan, and Nigel Hawthorne. Seriously, anyone who is interested in my blog will love this series.

One of the great things about staying in the heart of an old place like this is relishing your insider status, and the quiet, that descends when the tour buses leave for the day. After dinner we had one final stroll through the quiet streets around the church. It was just lovely.

I found the juxtaposition of this marriage equality sign on this ancient building pretty touching. Marriage equality seemed like an alien concept 10 years ago let alone 400 years ago.

Lamb House. Home of Henry James and E.F. Benson. Just not at the same time.

A James manuscript.

That’s Lamb House right at the end of that little lane.

Remember when Georgie in Mapp and Lucia paints the crooked chimney but is worried that people might think he wasn’t very skilled and couldn’t do a straight chimney, so he exaggerates the crookedness of it? Well, this has to be the chimney in question. How cool that no one has fixed it.

Me pretending this is my car in front of the house that was used as Mrs. Mapp’s (and Lucia’s rental) in the aforementioned wonderful TV adaptation of Mapp and Lucia.

This is me in 2012.

This is me twenty years ago in 1992.

This again is the Mapp/Lucia house this time in 2012.

And here it is again in 1992.

Me in 2012.

Me in 1992

 
After handing over control of the car to John, I began to enjoy myself in earnest. After a rather short and pretty drive from Sissinhurst we found overselves on the threshhold of Great Dixter, the amazing house and garden of garden god Christopher Lloyd. As you will see in the pictures the gardens are absolutely magical. As much as I enjoyed Sissinghurst the day before, there was something especially magical about Great Dixter. The house looked amazingly cozy as well, but it didn’t open until 2:00 and we wanted to be on our way to Rye by then.

 

Let’s just say I don’t like driving in the UK. I had no problem with the left side drive, and I absolutely loved the roundabouts. But I hated, and I mean hated the narrow roads. M25, no problem, the larger A roads, a breeze, then suddenly I found us in our rather wide Passat feeling like every oncoming vehicle was going to smash right into my face. To make up for it I decided to let the left side of the car meet the curb a few times. So what would it be head-on collision or to spin out wildly because my wheels were up on the curb?

By the time we got to Sissinghurst I was a basket case. And since we had to drive again the next day, and the next, and the next, I had a hard time letting go of my anxiety. And, I had planned the driving part so carefully that I felt like I had let myself (and John) down by not being able to actually drive very well in England.  I should add that I am a very good and safe driver in the US. Anyhoo, all of this had me feeling more than a little stressed. As the day wore on I started to feel a bit better about it all, but I still had this underlying feeling of just wanting the whole week to be over. Not a good way to feel about a vacation.

Not to worry, the anxiety was remedied the next day. I started off thinking I would get used to the driving and everything would be okay. But I drove for about five minute and then just pulled over and had John take over. Having driven on a lot of twisty, narrow roads in California in his youth, John was much better at it than I was. As many of you know I am someone who always wants (needs) to be in control. So giving up the control of the car was a big thing, but I was in such a bad way that it felt so good to let someone else drive. And it wasn’t too long before I actually started to enjoy myself.

But, back to Sissinghurst. We had been there once before in July of 2006 or so. The weather the day we arrived felt a lot like that hot, sunny, July day. It was great weather to be there, but the sun was so bright that it made taking pictures pretty difficult. Not to mention that the garden was only open from 11 to 5, which doesn’t give one the opportunity to take advantage of morning or evening light for photos.

For those who might not know, Sissinghurst was the home of Vita Sackville-West and her husband Harold Nicholson. The bought the place around 1937 and turned the wreck of a property into one of the most important and influential gardens in England, if not the world.

I chatted with Harvey a bit. He is cataloguing the 4,000 books at Sissinghurst. Not only indicating title, author, publisher, etc. but  also noting when there are handwritten notations and marginalia. Raise your hand if you would like this job. Plus he sits in the middle of the main, cozy library at Sissinghurst. Although I would hate to deal with tourists, unless they are informed, intelligent ones like myself.

Vita’s study is half way up the tower and is so very cool. I am the blue speck at the top right.

See, that’s me.

The orchard meadow is my favorite part.

The guy on the bench has the right idea.

The building furthest back is the B&B we spent the night in.

Reading The Flame Trees of Thika in the orchard meadow overlooking the moat.

One of the nice things about staying on the estate was having the time to walk the trails. I love, love, love, the meadows.

Although we took this walk midday. We also went this way in the evening as we walked to a pub for dinner.

We should have taken our camera to dinner to take advantage of the evening light, but sometimes you just need to leave it at home. The pub we went to was called The Three Chimneys and I had the most delicious smoked haddock on a bed of creamy leeks. Probably my best meal of the trip.

So many things going on in these meadows.

Couldn’t you just die? I felt like I was in a novel.

This was the view from our bedroom window.

Don’t you just expect to see someone in a bonnet?

During our very short time in London (just two days), we managed to meet up with bloggers Miranda and her mother at the V&A. I had met them once before at the great blogger meet-up in November 2010, but this time we really had a chance to chat. Thanks to Miranda we were able to avail ourselves of the quiet Member’s Room for a light lunch before we all headed to the ball gown exhibit. The gowns were fascinating and some were actually beautiful. For more on that check out Pen and Pencil Girls.

Since it has been at least 20 years since either of us had been to the V&A, John and I decided to spend the bulk of our day there exploring. And we did spend most of the afternoon there, but most of it was in the ceramics galleries.  They were wonderful. We just need a few more days to see the rest of the museum. From the V&A we made our way to Fleet Street for evensong at St Brides and then to dinner with ex-pat friends.

McDonalds #1 by Li Lihong I covet this piece. I don’t know where I would put it, but I love it.

Rose Border Multiple, Multiple Blue 1 by Caroline Slotte Look closely at this one (click to expand), the artist die-cut through the plates to make it three dimensional.

Ornamental Inheritance by Jo Meesters and Marije van der Park They took two commercial vases and scraped off the glaze to create these contemporary Dutch landscapes.

Signs and Wonders by Edmund de Waal High above our heads, we almost missed this wonderful red metal shelf that runs along the the inside of the base of a ceiling dome.

Signs and Wonders, detail

Girl Baptised in Gold by Kim Simonsson

tiny pots by Chun Liao

This plate is probably a metre in diameter

Trophy by Clare Twomey There are 50 of these, but in the original installation in 2006 there were 4,000 of them and viewers got to select one and take it home.

This one is actually made of glass not ceramics.

A Captive Audience by David Reekie A clone about to make a break for it.

We arrived in London early in the morning of the final day of the Chelsea Flower Show. Although the trip was planned so that John could visit some of his favorite gardens, it was only by chance that the timing of it happened to coincide with the flower show. So we dropped off our bags at our friends’ flat in Kew, freshened up a bit, ate a mid-morning Cornish pasty from a wonderful little butcher shop right by the Kew tube station, and made our way to Sloane Square. After the rainiest April in 100 years and an unseasonable cold snap, everyone seemed delighted to finally have warm sunny weather and people were everywhere. It was a bit of a mob scene. The flower show was sold out long before the nice weather arrived, but one couldn’t help thinking that the hordes of sun-starved Londoners ambling along with tall glasses of Pimm’s didn’t care as much about the flowers as they did about getting a suntan.

The main exhibition tent was so chock full of things in bloom it was like a giant sneeze fest. Happily the crowds seemed to gravitate to the more garish displays, which left us some room for John to look more closely at flower varities that were new to him.

By the time we had spent a few hours at the show the combo of the crowds, the sun, the pollen, and major jet-lag made the idea of going back to our lodgings in Kew much more attractive than to follow through on my plan to go to the Carlyles’ House. (I wonder if I will ever get there?) 

I am not really posting flower pictures today because 1) the sun was high and bright and they didn’t turn out so good, 2) there were so many people it was hard to really get any good photos, and 3) we have tons more photos of actual gardens that I don’t want you to burn out before I get to the really good stuff.

These are our tickets purchased many months in advance.Only in England would one find ticket touts for a flower show. It might as well have been a Wombles concert.  :)

Crowds annoy me. Especially when it is warm and the sun is out. They also annoy me more when I am with someone else–I end up worrying too much about a whole slew of things over which I have no control. Add jet-lag and pollen induced sneezing to the mix and you have a wonderful day out.

I did manage to keep my complaining down to a minimum, I didn’t want to detract from John’s enjoyment of his first time at the flower show. And I did enjoy discovering new plants that we want to put in our garden. We already have Astrantia in our garden, but not this lovely white variety.

John’s dream house.

I think John would have put this stone trough in his suitcase if I had let him.

I like the stamp, but this is the kind of flower display that I find dreadful. It reminds me of some tacky seaside boardwalk. One can only assume that flower show folks created this one with tongue in cheek.

 

Not only was I a lazy blogger in May, but we have been out of the country since the 25th. That last post with all the pictures was meant to fool you tide you over until we returned. And now that we have returned I have lots of fantastic pictures to share, but it is going to take a while to sort through them all.  So in the meantime I will give you a bookish teaser of what is to be culled from the 1,846 photos we took over eight days in the UK. (Although it might be a bit misleading since the vast majority of photos are not book related.)

When we make our reservation to stay at The George in Rye, I couldn’t help but notice that they had a room called “The Book Room”. Luck was with us and our room request was honored. So we got to spend the night in a room full of Penguins.

Cozy room in Rye. But when one can only stay for one night, having all these Penguins in one spot doesn’t really do one much good. To add to the charm of the setting, that little Tivoli radio seen on the nightstand was in the middle of Vaughan Williams’ Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis when we arrived. A very nice, very English, and since it was playing on the radio, a very serendipitous touch.

 

I had every intention of putting all of these in alphabetical order by author, but alas, the quaint charm of Rye and beautiful weather won out and I ended up without much time to do it. Not to mention the fact that I ended up taking a lovely hot bath and going to bed by 10:00.

 

I started to pull the ones I wanted to buy or own off the shelves. Then it dawned on me that they weren’t for sale, and unless I intended to steal them, I really needed to just put them back on the shelves.

 

After seeing others post about these great 1960s Muriel Spark editions during Muriel Spark Reading Week, it was fun (and frustrating) to see them in person.

 

I picked out a selection of titles that I knew would appeal to my readers. Not only a Miss Hargreaves and Ivy Compton-Burnett for Simon T., but a pair of Monica Dickens, a little Waugh, some Forster, a couple of Bowens and two copies of High Wages by Dorothy Whipple. I must admit, if they had had a Whipple novel that wasn’t in print with Persephone, I would have put it in my suitcase and then gone around the corner to the antiquarian bookshop that had vintage Penguins to fill in the gap. I wouldn’t have felt too bad about this either given that there was clearly no rhyme nor reason to the assemblage of Penguins and that it seemed like one vintage Penguin could just as easily take its place with no one being too upset about it. (Slippery slope, I know.)

I have been really bad about blogging lately. And I don’t really have time for a post today, so I thought I would leave you with some stuff to look at. A bit of a mixed bag, so hopefully there is something for everyone.

Lovely yellow rose next to our front door.

John just took these two photos this morning.

Back in February Lucy decided she was a cheetah and found a high point for looking for prey.

Sniffing the breeze.

Delicious devilled eggs that my friend Ron made on Easter.

Books in our old apartment.

A delicious winery stop in Sonoma in 2006.

Our friends first newborn goat was named after yours truly.

On our way over the Great Barrier Reef to Lizard Island in 2006.

Sunset from Lizard Island.

This April my parents were with us when they celebrated their 50th anniversary. Here they are opening a picture of a street sign at an intersection in St. Paul where a street with our last name intersects with a street with my mom’s maiden name.

John set a lovely table.

He did the flowers as well.

I made the food.

Rub my tummy…please.

I’m still waiting.

I’m not sure they wanted their tummies rubbed. Somewhere south of Big Sur, California.

Doesn’t get much more peaceful than a lake in the Adirondacks.

The other day I was buying a stack of books at a charity bookshop when I spied a book with a picture of books on the cover. Always a sucker for pretty pictures of books (like the one to the right which has the added bonus of having a real phone in it), I had to find out what it was. Turns out it was a book club journal. You know, one of those pretty, but probably useless journals that stationers/publishers like to dangle in front of people who like journals (more likely people who like the thought of journaling), or people who like lists. Don’t get me wrong, I love a list, but I think that a good list doesn’t need special formatting or pretty pictures. Especially when the journals are produced especially for the keeping of such list. Like once I saw a little spiral bound journal that was strictly for keeping track of wine consumed, where you were when you drank it, and who helped you. That might be interesting information to keep track of, but there is something kind of cheesy about these single purpose journals. I know what it is, they seem like journals for poseurs. Anyone with a real desire to list things just needs a blank sheet of paper or a spreadsheet. Granted those blank sheets of paper could be in a bound journal, but they don’t need to be adorned with helpful little hints. In the case of the book club journal, it has a headings like “Conclusions Reached”.  Gimme a break.

BUT, the book club journal was only $1 and it included lists of suggestions for book club books broken down by category. I don’t belong to a book club so I don’t need the helpful suggestions, but I can never pass up a book list. Especially if I can cross off (or usually for me, highlight) the books I have read. It always makes me feel so smug, both about the ones I have read as well as the ones I haven’t read (no doubt I have really good reasons for not following the crowd…)

What surprised me about these particular lists was not so much what was included and what wasn’t included, but the fact that the list that had the most titles that I have read was a category of fiction that I really don’t read much of. I know it is more coincidence than anything, it just so happened that these are the titles they included, but who’d a thunk that I would have read more SF/Horror/Future than some of these other categories?  You guys know me well enough to be surprised as well.

And for you listophiles, here you go…

Who ever would have thought that this would be my most read list with 9 of 20 books read. The only one other one I am certain I will read is Fahrenheit 451.

Between the page above, and the one below I have read 12 of the titles listed in Contemporary Fiction, but that is with twice as many to choose from, so on a percentage basis, I didn’t do as well. I will definitely read the Mitford and the Amis.

I read a chapter or two of the Barnes back in 1995, otherwise there isn’t much on this list I am drawn to.

I might feel bad about my poor showing in this category if I hadn’t read plenty of others that aren’t here. I loved Colette’s the Ripening Seed but have been stand offish about her since I saw that horrible film version of Cheri.

This is a category I should have done better in, but their list just isn’t very good.

I think this is the list I am most interested in exploring more.  I definitely don’t like formulaic mysteries. I want to like them but I just don’t. I will definitely read The Moonstone, but otherwise I don’t know if this is a good list or not. What do you think? If I want to expand my reading in this category what should I try that is, or isn’t on this list?

My worst showing of all. The only one that is on my TBR radar is the Graves.

Ah, the classics. I feel like I should get credit for reading three other Lawrences so I don’t have to read this one.  I see myself getting to the Alcott, Eliot, Austen, Hawthorne, Gaskell, and maybe the Hardy, Fielding, and Thackeray.

  
This was taken at Christmas, but I just came across it on a flash drive and couldn’t resist…