E is for ...

 

... is for

England

Which is where Your Correspondent has lately been. It had been nearly twenty—count them—twenty years since the Pipistrellos' last visit in the dead of a winter past and haven't things changed?

Of course, Excellent Company (for which we can thank friends and family) is always a given, so no surprises there, but making debuts in the E-is-for-Excellent Department, we had Weather, viz. blue skies, no wind, deliciously warm (30 degrees one day!) and whatnot, Food*, and Coffee, wherein solemn baristas now reign supreme, even outside the Capital. 

Green Park looking more parched Australian summertime yellow

Speaking of reigning supreme, you will no doubt be delighted to read that we bumped into the Windsors. Our arrival to London was celebrated with the Opening of Parliament and since we were staying in a club** just up from St. James's Palace, we skipped down to The Mall and a few minutes later, lo! Charles & Camilla, the dears, rode past in all their regalia in their gold coach. I gave Cams a hearty wave but I don't think she saw me. But the holiday was anyways off to a cracking start.

'Ullo 'ullo! What 'ave we 'ere?

For all the visits and spells living in London, this was, surprisingly, only the second time I have clocked any Royalty. The first time was when I was working there in the 90's, at the polo, cough, when ERII popped into view at the end of a pair of binoculars I was scanning from the stadium seating. Even though she was obviously there to watch the Prince of Wales play for the Cartier Queen's Cup, I still got a surprise when I found her and an involuntary, "Oh, my goodness! The Queen!" fell out of my mouth. And whereupon some withering commentary about yokel-Colonials fell out of the mouths of my fellow merchant bankers, hem hem. Of course, the PoW's team did win and there was an amusing moment to witness ERII present him with the cup and wonder what transpired between them. Something along the lines, "Gosh! Thanks, Mummy!", methinks.

Anyhoo, back to Merrie Olde England in 2024, hasn't the recent embrace of vehicles Electric made a welcome change to the air? Electric buses and cabs and cars galore. Mind, the Pipistrellos do like a bit of vintage in the Transport Department and we got to satisfy our taste there with a couple of vintage train rides. So fun, so smart, so comfy, and so worth doing if you like a bit of trainspotting.

Nota bene: An Excessively long slide show follows, Dear Reader, but who else is there to show?

There were crooners on board!

Poirot would expect nothing less on a train ride

Stunning marquetry within

Each carriage features distinctive decor

We had the good fortune to stay with neighbours from Sydney who live half of each year in Devon, and had several days of these sorts of views:

Thatched roofs with decorative critters atop - owls, pheasants and whatnot

The Eagle-Eyed will recognise Burgh Island,
the setting for Agatha Christie murder mysteries

 

One of England's Avon Rivers

There was a bit of merriment to be had during our Devonian sojourn, what with an 85th birthday to be celebrated with a village summer party, capped off with dancing a maypole in the bottom of the garden! Of course, the Wise Reader knows that choice nuggets about Maypoles can already be found about these pages, so no more needs to be said about them, save that even in miniature, they're jolly good fun.

Then away to Bath for a couple of days, where there was rather a bit of this to be seen:

Another River Avon

The most Excellent Holburne Museum,
a.k.a Lady Danbury's house in a Netflix Excrescence

We lovers of Vintage Transports had the added delight of a new Agatha Christie series filming outside our hotel whilst there. The street was blocked to traffic while it filled with all manner of vehicles and, later on, actors haring up and down, crunching gears and bunny-hopping and generally turning the owners' hairs white as they got to grips with the cars. Such larks!

Propmakers shaved around 100 years off the streetscape

In other Excitements, ol' Pipistrello squeezed in a couple of ballet classes in the busy schedule, one in the De Valois rehearsal studio at the Royal Opera House, no less! Through the stage door, sign in and then up the lift and a walk through corridors strung out with costumes on rails, and there you are.

Dame Ninette de Valois
gracing the cafe at the National Portrait Gallery

And finally, E-is-for-Eye-Wateringly-Expensive, for that is how we generally found things. I had the most expensive haircut in my life as an impulsive treat before flying home, but managed to soothe the sting by buying some wellies on sale, yay!

So that's it for E. You may exclaim, "Robbed! We were promised England but only got served a bit of the South! Where's the rest??"

To which I might draw a literary parallel as Excuse, courtesy of Knightsbridge-dwelling Edwardian couple, Bruce & Edith Ottley:

"'Bruce,' said Edith, 'you won't forget we're dining with your people tonight?'

    'It's a great nuisance.'

    'Oh, Bruce!'

    'It's such an infernally long way.'

    'It's only to Kensington.'

    'West Kensington. It's off the map. I'm not an explorer - I don't pretend to be.'"

Ada Leverson, Love's Shadow, 1908

* Despite the unlikeliness of the Great British Afternoon Tea guiding a couple of carnivorous carb-phobics as a holiday culinary theme, a roll call of delicious fishes follows: Dover sole, Cornish monkfish, mackerel, turbot, salmon poached and smoked, potted shrimps & oysters, not all on the same plate, obv. 

** No, not My Club from the olden days but a new one.

Image credits: 1: Rijksmuseum; all else: Flying With Hands