A little more to life, somewhere else
NS May 10th, 2007
Pardon my absenteeism. A week is a long time in the blogosphere, I’ve probably been all but forgotten and written off for dead. But I assure you, I haven’t run off with the circus or been abducted by the toothless guy from the bus. Nothing as dramatic as that. Though the week has brought a fair bit of excitement.
We left early Saturday morning for Paul’s aunt and uncle’s abode in the West Country. Somerset to be a bit more exact. They live in a nice, big house (well, big by our shoebox/sardine can standards) in a lovely little village, next door to a 13th century church and graveyard. It doesn’t get much more English than that. All around are sprawling green pastures and rolling hills, and burial mounds thousands of years old. There are fence posts there older than the US. That can be kind of mind blowing.
I’m not usually one to get all wrapped up in things deemed to be ‘quaint’ (in fact, I usually puke at the mere mention of the word as its overuse by American tourists in the UK has nauseated me more than once — people, Big Ben and double decker buses are not quaint. Gift shops that sell scones and tea for US$20 are not quaint. So shut up already) but when we went there two years ago for Christmas and I looked out the guest bedroom window to see snowflakes falling gently over the gravestones as I sipped mulled wine before attending the candlelit midnight mass at the 800 year-old church and then tromped through the snow with the entire family, arms linked and cheeks aglow with yuletide cheer, to the nearly-as-equally-old pub with a roaring fire, red-faced publican and requisite dog with a bone at his feet, a pint of cask conditioned English ale resting before me on a table in a cozy alcove — well, let’s just say that the word quaint MAY have entered my head once or twice. Maybe.
Needless to say, I was ready for more quaintness to wash over me as we approached. I’d never been there in the warmer months so it was nice to see the landscape with the more vivid, vibrant hues than I had experienced on my last visit. Bluebells and those oh-so-English hedges lined the motorway, making for a very pleasant drive. On either side were rolling, green pastures, grazing sheep and horses, and tiny villages reminiscent of the Shire from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, set deep within hills that practically groan with age and history. Oh, the stories they could tell. Where I’m from, a six hour drive in any direction will be the same as where you started — corn, cows, flat fields, barbed wire and the odd tacky housing development. Oh, and broken down cars and tossed McDonald’s bags, of course. Needless to say, I enjoyed this drive much, much more.
We had a great time with N&J, they were very hospitable and generous. They drove us to the seaside the day we arrived and we got to hold The Noble Child’s hands as she walked along the beach. Trouser legs rolled up, she got her feet wet in the ocean and watched the waves in fascination. She also had her first ice cream cone. Chocolate, of course. The following day we went to visit Wells Cathedral, which was a nice way to spend a somewhat chilly, drizzly day. The medieval clock was especially cool to see. We arrived back home on Monday afternoon and did the usual unpacking/food shopping/catching up with friends that is necessary after a weekend spent with older relatives.
I felt so refreshed after being out in the country, just being out of London. It did me a world of good. It was so good, in fact, that when my sister mentioned that she’d seen a cheap fare for London to Chicago, departing a week later, the 14th (as in this coming Monday!), I jumped at the opportunity. My parents have kindly offered to help pay for the sproglet’s ticket and my sister will be putting us up for the duration. After a flurry of activity and phone calls and fare searching, I booked tickets yesterday. I’m leaving in less than four days now. I’ve never planned a trip so spontaneously before (at least an overseas one). It feels great to do something rash, impulsive, carefree. My days are usually regimented by naps, meal times and nappy changes. No more, my friends, no more. For the next two weeks we will rise and retire at odd hours, nap as the whim takes us, and wherever suits, and meals might not be hot and homemade. But I’ll get to see my family and a couple friends and that’s what matters. That my parents get to see Amelia at such a fantastic, beautiful, precious time in her young life means so much.
A little R&R. Just what the doctor ordered. No house hunting, no play dates, no housework, no deadlines. Just me, my girl, and a much deserved break.
Photos from the trip in my Flickr badge, top left corner
