Quick march

If you'd like a cup of tea

at a National Trust property after an afternoon walk,

you'd better look sharpish 

because they stop serving on the dot of 4.30.

Thus it was, as an antidote to too much sitting around 
watching television yesterday,

we set off after a very early luncheon for 

the start (and finish) of our walk at Ightham Mote,

'one of the oldest and loveliest of 

medieval manor houses to survive in England.'

It's all a bit of a blur.

Are those hares? 

They look too big to be rabbits.

Fast fading bluebells, but English not Spanish,

you can tell because the bells all hang from the 

drooping underside of the stem

rather than rotating round the thicker upright stem.

I had never realised that the white horse-chestnut 

flower is flecked with yellow, pink and even orange.

The scrutiny of a sheep at some point on a walk is

inevitable but unnerving. 

By the time we reached the house our time was nearly up 

and we were gently shepherded from room to room by

accumulating volunteer guides, 

so that the house could be closed up behind us.  

This 16th century stained glass was brought to the chapel from 

Germany and installed in the early 19th century.

Furniture and fittings dating from the Middle Ages 
and the 18th century were probably brought 
gradually and haphazardly to create an antiquarian look.

The gardens were open for a little longer,

but the house deserves a more leisurely visit.

You can't rush through 670 years of history.

That went well

Flowers.

Best china. 

Foliage.

Passionfruit and lemon meringue pie.

Champagne (not shown).

Meanwhile back at the ranch 2

Paul the decorator disappeared off the face of the earth

despite being booked in yonks ago to paint the kitchen,

in order to make good the depredations of

Lloyd the electrician who also went awol.

It was supposed to happen while we were

conveniently out of the way in Japan/ Paris.

I didn't much relish the thought of a week without a kitchen

or having to find a new decorator.

But then Danny appeared.

He visited to estimate,

produced a detailed written quote by 6 a.m the next day,

at an astonishingly reasonable price,

arrived at 8 a.m as promised,

covered everything with clean dustsheets,

wanted no drinks,

played the radio quietly,

made no fuss,

didn't talk blokeish,

didn't need to 'pop out' for a couple of hours,

had a reliable van,

took two useful initiatives,

finished work at 4 pm,

and completed the job in two days,

one of them a Bank holiday.

He came back today to check all was well 

and noticed a couple of nearly invisible missed spots

which he cheerfully put right.

I feel as though I have stepped into an utopian world.

The one where you are not almost given a parking ticket,

and palpitations,

outside your own house for having one wheel 

on the dropped down kerb

because the bin men had left the bin blocking the driveway

and you couldn't drive in,

and you had considerately left room for the bus to pass;

by an off-duty parking attendant who has himself parked

behind you with both wheels on the kerb.

Meanwhile back at the ranch

It's late May in the garden.

Our house?

Our steps?

Our balcony?

Our plaque?

Our magnolia?

Our house?

Wisteria clad.

One step closer.

The Favourite Walk at Easter

It's a long one.

Run if you like.

I've saved the best until last.
The tea was good of course
and very welcome, but this,
(can you see it?)
is a skylark that 
sang into the wide blue yonder
then plummeted to earth

just here 
at the end of the walk.