Day 174 - Hoppin' cross the pond

With Easter on the way, we're heading back to Canada tomorrow. Actually, our journey started today. We took the train to Gatwick via London Victoria during rush hour with a large suitcase filled with winter clothes. two carry-on bags and two backpacks. Not the best combination of location, time and baggage. But we made it to our hotel and soon were eating a fancy meal at the local McDonald's. Yes, this travel is one glamorous day after another.

Not really much to share in this blog. And tomorrow, it's an 8-hour plane ride, so I will go into some sort of mind-numbing haze that allows me to find myself back on the ground before I know it. So, we're going to sign off for the next few days while we visit with friends and family at home. But we will be back soon to share our adventures again.


In the meantime, sharing a few recent photos of spring.

Thanks for reading, and Happy Easter! See you soon.

Day 173 - Escape to the Country

Jane: Welcome to this week’s programme of Escape to the Country. I’m your host, Lady Jane Tanqueray, and this week I’ll be combing the UK countryside with Phil and Angela, a Canadian couple looking to escape the hustle and bustle of city life in the Greater Toronto/Hamilton Area in favour of the idyll that is the English countryside.

Now Phil and Ange, before we get started, give our viewers some insight into why you want to move from the expanse and modernity of Canada to ancient, waterclogged England.

Phil: Well, Jane. consider us “weather gamblers.” We just can’t get enough of the unpredictability of the weather here in the UK. It’s a crap shoot. We love the idea of waking up in the morning and seeing the current weather described as bright sun, when outside your window the rain is coming down like cats and dogs. It’s that great British humour to start the day … the weather forecasterers pulling your leg. You can just picture them all sitting around having a laugh over a 11 a.m. pint and a pickled egg.

Ange: And as for leaving the modern world of Toronto behind for the medieval world of the UK, well we just love the idea of being surrounded by buildings in which lots and lots of people have died over the centuries. In Canada, most people outlive the buildings before they fall quickly fall into decay. It’s that back to nature mentality we “green” Canadians have … design everything so nature can take it back as soon as possible.

Jane: As you know, the show works like this: I’ll be taking you around to view three properties. The first two will match your list of requirements, whilst the last property will be our ‘mystery property,’ chosen to take you out of your comfort zone a bit.

So, what exactly are you looking for in your new country home.

Ange: Jane, I’m hoping to have something that’s been fully renovated with an open-concept kitchen, dining room and lounge. Preferably 3 big bedrooms all with ensuites for our many guests who will be visiting.

Phil: And some land, but nothing that needs a lot of upkeep. Maybe something with lots of that pea gravel you like to put at the front of your houses here so you can park lots of cars. Oh, and the rest of the property covered in really slow-growing lawns. Maybe a few stray sheep from the neighbour's farm to keep it mowed.

Ange: … and a coastal view right on a cliff edge…

Phil: ... and within walking distance of a pub that has at least 3 local ales always on tap and a weekly rotating guest ale ...

Ange: ...oh yeah, and lots of community activities where we can immerse myself in the local culture and yet people still refer to us as 'The Americans who bought that place on the cliff'…

Phil: … and get pissed off when they find out I am allowed to vote and am pro-Brexit

Both break up laughing

Jane: Hmmmm. Yes. Well now, what is the budget we have to work with?

Phil: Jane we have 50 thousand pounds.

Jane: Coughing. Oooo…that’s a tad light for a coastal property.

Ange: Yes, but we may be able to scrap together an extra couple hundred quid if the place needs any fixing up.

Phil: Yeah, like maybe a lick of paint on the extra garden room at the back of the property that I can convert to my office.

Jane: Oh, you’re making my job a bit difficult. Most houses on this show run from 500,000 to 2 million pounds. I personally don't like to step into anything under 1.5 myself, but unfortunately I didn't read the fine print when I signed the contract for this programme, so sometimes I just have to slum it.

Phil: Come on Jane. We’ve been watching this show for years. You guys are always finding fabulous places.

Jane: mumbling and looking off camera… Bloody hell? Didn’t the producers screen these crazy foreign bastards?

[Commercial break]

Jane: Welcome back to Escape to the Country. Or as we’re now calling it “Escape from All sense of reason.” We have two Crazy Canucks with us this week who are looking to purchase a house in the gorgeous English countryside for 50,000 pounds. Lots of laughter is heard from off camera.

Phil and Ange, you really set me a challenge. As a result, we’re going to do something a bit different this week. We’re going to go straight to the Mystery Property.

[Cut to scene of Jane driving with Ange in the passenger seat and Phil in the back seat poking his head through the gap between the two front seats.]

Jane: So, at this point in the show I usually like to ask my guests what they think I have up my sleeve for the Mystery Property. Any guesses?

Phil: Perhaps a barn conversion. We know you love to show those.

Ange: Oooo... I think you've got some former chapel in an idyllic Cornish village planned. 

5 hours later. Phil and Ange are asleep in the car. Jane suddenly veers into a layby off the A16, waking her two guests.

Jane: We're here.

Phil: Seeing they're in a layby. Stopping for a sausage on a bun, are we, Jane?

Jane: Nope, this is it. Loudly, to camera as she steps gingerly out of the car and onto the muddy gravel surface. We're somewhere outside of Grimsby. Despite its 'grim' sounding name, Grimsby has excellent transport links. I mean, look: the A road we're now parked next to is just bustling with traffic. Yeah, when the fishing industry died off here in the 1990s, it left a legacy of unemployment. The upside? Numerous abandoned buildings to be had for a song. And, with a spot of imagination you could be living in this once booming metropolis.

Ange: And the place of our dreams, Jane? Where is it?

Jane: There. Jane points to a rusty white camper van resting precariously on wooden blocks. It is set on the edge of the layby, part on the gravel drive, part on the weed-filled verge. 

Yes, this former bacon bap van can be yours. It was abandoned 10 years ago, thus the door hanging off its hinges, and that, well, shall we say "rather colourful" language spray painted on the front. 

Phil: Any amenities. I mean, I was hoping not to cut grass.

Jane: That's where this property is unlike anything else I've ever shown, Phil. Twice a year, the local Council comes by to cut the weeds and uses a big air blower on the garbage people toss here. So it gets moved back toward the fence line, where it can decay a bit farther out of sight. Think of it as your own private waste disposal site. You can just toss your refuse right out what was once that side door there.

Ange: Any room for an extension?

Jane: Would I disappoint? It just so happens that my producer spotted an abandoned porta-loo in the ditch on the other side of the motorway. I'm sure you could drag that back here, gut the insides, and ... well ... as we Brits like to say, "Bob's your uncle."

Now you kids go on and take a closer look yourselves.

Ange and Phil walk toward the van.

Jane yelling loudly at the film crew over the din of the passing lorries: Get back in the bloody vehicles and get me the hell out of here before they come back.

But Jane can't resist glancing at Ange and Phil as her car veers back onto the motorway.

They're both jumping up and down so they can see over the fence that edges the layby. To this day she swears she heard them screaming: "Look honey, if you jump just right, you can see the sea! We'll take it!"

Day 172 - A walk in the park

With the promise of sun and with temperatures hitting 11, a walk was definitely on the books on this Sunday. Last night, the clocks changed to British Summer Time  (they refer to Daylight Savings Time here), but nonetheless, we were out of bed at the usual time, so managed to catch the first train that included a stop at Hanborough. This is the closest station to Blenheim Palace, and while it is still a bit of a hike to the Place (about 25-30 minutes to the gates and another 15 -20 to the ticket entrance for the Palace), it is a lovely walk we’ve enjoyed on a couple of occasions now (see our previous blogs).

Our walk today was not so much about seeing the palace, but rather to walk around the immense (and I mean that in the fullest sense of the word) grounds. The grounds consist of almost everything you could want in an English country walk: acres of pastureland for sheep; old-growth forests; formal gardens; and a lake that cascades down a waterfall to a stream.  To walk around the complete perimeter of the park would take about 3 to 4 hours, although they do keep a lot of the park private to keep the people from wandering around willy nilly … or perhaps overstaying their welcome.

Soon after entering the park by the Bladon Gate, we noticed tall posts planted across one of the sheep pastures (although the sheep had been removed), and all the posts were branded with the Land Rover logo. We could see that the posts were tracing out a path down the hill and through the river. Later we discovered a row of high-end Land Rovers parked directly in front of the palace with men keeping them shining with polishing rags. It looks like it was providing those who could afford one of these vehicles a chance to drive it through the various conditions for which they are designed. And no … we didn’t get approached about taking a spin. I am still perplexed as to why. Perhaps if Lady Jane Tanqueray of Alton Towers had been with us, we might have experienced something different.

Off in the distance, we heard music thumping and the occasional roar from an invisible crowd. As we walked further into the park we noticed that one of the main paved pathways was marked for a 5-mile run. We soon heard a louder roar and assumed that the race had set off.

You do see the ghostly face, right?

We walked up a hill through more pastureland before entering an old-growth forest. Huge ancient oaks trees were in their final throws of decay, creating the haunting images of trees you image in ghost stories. It does set the imagination on fire.

As we came to the end of the forest, the first two runners – and obviously the most professional looking – came running towards us up a hill. It seemed like we had just heard the start of this race, so we were surprised to see runners already at what was marked as the 4-mile point. Perhaps we just lost time in the ghost forest? Hmmm.

Not very nice to refer to the peasants on the road!

Soon a few more runners appeared, and then we spotted the first pack of runners. This group was made up of those whose bodies and clothing indicate they do this most days and have given in to the addiction. The next group was those you can tell are taking this seriously, but still rather new to the game. Then came those running who and work out fairly regularly, but are doing this for charity. And last came the ones who work out occasionally (or have been since they made that New Year’s resolution) or were somehow coerced into joining the company charity run team this year. You can tell this latter group because they tend to be overdressed, carrying their own water bottles (despite water being supplied on the run), and holding one or both of their sides. Sometimes they are trying desperately to chat with the fit 20-something girl from the office who’s keeping up a steady stream of conversation about what’s happening in her life while her companions wish her dead. We met up with most of this group as they were just coming into view of the long hill they had to run up between the 3- and 4-mile marks. It was like walking through a wave of sweaty disappointment as they passed us. I have to convey one observation: everyone, except the guy in the lead, looked like they were in pain. I’ll just keep walking the 5 miles – thank you very much.

Numerous buildings are scattered throughout the park, including gatehouses, lodges (including a hunting lodge for the palace), farm houses and buildings, stables, workers cottages. It is very much a community within itself. Our path took us past one set of farm buildings and houses that could have been a home of some member of the landed gentry. 

Phil (can you spot him?) looks up
to the Duke of Marlborough.

We eventually came to two double rows of trees that bordered a dead straight road which was probably the front entrance route into the palace. It lined up directly with the front door some distance away. However, blocking its continuation straight to the tower was the 13-storey high towering sculpture created to honour the first Duke of Marlborough.

The Grand Bridge in front of the palace. In the far distance
you can see the statue.

Just before the statue, the roadway veers to the left and then goes through an area that was once used as a gravel pit for the palace. It has since been covered over with trees and grass. It eventually winds its way back along the river’s edge until it is back in front of the palace where it then aligns straight again as it crosses over the grand bridge.

Churchill contemplates Phil's take
on Brexit.

We stopped into the palace for tuna and cucumber sandwiches, and managed to secure ourselves a beautiful table for two in an alcove with floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the formal gardens. It was a lovely spot, but we could dally too long as we had a train home to catch at 2 pm.  We walked through the gardens and along a path that said it led to the Churchill memorial garden, the rose garden and “the cascades.” Daffodils had been planted everywhere in the Churchill gardens, and then along the gentle slopes of a nearby creek bed. It was beautiful. 

At the cascades, we stopped to admire the sound and the view and take a few pictures. From here, we were only about 15 minutes from the entrance at which our walk had begun. However, the paths, which on our map appeared to be public, had all been marked as private. We had no choice but to head back to toward the Palace. As luck would have it, we found a trail across the back of the castle. But, once again, the palace attempted to make it difficult to get to the gate we needed without adding at least another 30 minutes of walking time. They had built a ditch across the pastureland, and at the point were a road passed through it, they had built a wall against the ditch and a locked gate. 

However, seeing no sign that said the area was private, Phil determined we could pass through the area. He jumped into the ditch then helped me down. We were soon walking along a roadway through a large field of grazing sheep who remained oblivious to us.  At the far end of the field we did come across another locked fence, but this one was just one of your typical country gates so was easily surmountable.  We did feel a bit rebellious, but then we did purchase the annual pass!

Don't worry; he was too pretty to eat for Sunday roast.

Most important: we did make it to the scheduled train and were home in time to slow roast our Sunday dinner.

Day 171 - Downhill all the way

Time to get back out there walking! My foot feels great again, so ready
to put it to the test. We opted for a primarily downhill walk from Stow on the Wold back to Moreton that was paved path or roadway all the way. I grabbed a walking stick, just in case we got suddenly sidetracked — as we are apt to do — and ended up crossing a slippery field.

The Little Stocks Coffee Shop.
Source: www.oldstocksinn.com

We worked in the morning, and then caught the local bus just after noon hour from the nearby train station down the Fosse Way and up the hill to Stow. First things first: time for lunch. Today we opted to share a bowl of butternut squash soup and a cheese sandwich at The Little Stocks Coffee Shop just off the village green.  The café is rather cute inside with two comfy arm chairs lined up to look out the window in case you want to watch the world (slowly) pass by while you sip your coffee or tea.  The lunch was nice, but not as tasty as the one we had on a previous visit when we went to Huffkins tearoom … remember that for your visit.  ;-)

Painting of Stow on the Wold by Robert Burel.

We grabbed a bottle of water from the local Co-op store … always a necessity on a walk no matter what the weather.  However, before we could officially begin our walk, we had two more stops to make. The first was at the Clarendon art gallery. We had admired a painting in the window here around Christmas, and went in to see if there was anything else by the artist. Sadly, there wasn’t. However, we did admire the work of a French artist. The piece was in the colourful, somewhat animated style we’re always drawn to, and this got us chatting with the gallery manager, Oliver. Wonderful gentleman … friendly and knowledgeable. He encouraged us to attend a couple of shows he’ll be having in the next few weeks. We’ll probably only be able to make it to one, which will be showcasing sculpture, so we’re looking forward to going back to see that.

If you’re interested, the artist we inquired about is named Robert Burel. You can view his work here. He had done one painting of Stow when he had been there for a rare visit. It was in the main shop window and depicted the classic car show that is held annually in the town. But it was his painting of a London flower market that really caught my eye.

Next stop was to Hutchkin’s for a treat to share later in the day with a cup of tea — after we earned it by completing the 6.5 mile walk. We chose the peanut butter brownie. Decadent for sure, but since we’re sharing, only half bad for you!

Phil prepares for the flood at
Broadwell's ford.

Then we began our walk. North out of town along the main road before turning right to start our decent down toward Broadwell, joining up with the Monarch Way as we did so. Once in Broadwell (about 1.5 miles northeast of Stow), we took a quick offshoot from our path to look at the Village Hall. Something was definitely going on as the car park we filled with vehicles in what is otherwise a very sleepy village.  As we approached the hall along the road, we noticed that the local creek actually crosses over the road, creating an easily drivable ford … well at least on this day. We were left wondering what it would be like on a day when the weather hit in a deluge.

Looking back toward
Stow on the Wold.

From Broadwell to Evenlode, the road descends gently except for the rise at Stock Bridge that goes over the rail line. All was relatively quiet in Evenlode except for the cars passing for the after school pick-up and those racing home early to get their weekend started. The daffodils are now bursting, and this was most evident in Evenlode where we were greeting with hundreds of their sunny, yellow faces.

The daffodils doing their best to
lure us to take a rest on the village
green.

We resisted the urge to sit on a bench in the middle of the village green and pull out our peanut butter  brownie, and continued on toward Moreton.

A lovely day, and fantastic to be doing the long walks again. Next up … to try a long walk uphill. But first, Phil has put the kettle on for a much anticipated cup of tea … and that brownie!

Day 170 - Tea (or coffee) for two

It we could have something copied en masse in Canada, it would be the tea room. In the small town of Moreton, there are about six of them and we have tried just about all of them. Today, we tried one call Martha's ... actually, Martha's is more of a coffee house, but not anything like Starbucks. It's in a beautiful old building where you have to duck a bit to get in the doorway...and inside, the decor is every inch that you would expect in a tea room.

The shop was open for breakfast so we indulged on what was otherwise going to be mostly a work day on a rainy day. We discovered that Martha was actually the name of the previous owner's dog...seems to be trend here in Moreton to name shops after dogs.

Not a big event to write about, but enough to make the day special...which we try to make happen in at least a small way every day.

Day 169 - Community “speed” date

Sometimes, if you see a problem, you have to just stop playing the blame game and take action to resolve it yourself…keeping to the law, of course. Today we witnessed just such action while returning from a morning walk (and coffee) to the Fosseway Garden Centre. On the road heading into Moreton’s town centre, we spotted three people in bright yellow vests standing behind a sign indicating they were undertaking a speed test of vehicles entering the town.

One held a radar gun aimed at incoming vehicles (many of which seemed to slow down on spotting the yellow vests). Phil had a brief chat with them asking if it was working, and they said it seemed to be! He wished them good luck, telling them he thought it was a great idea.

The county in which we are living, Gloucestershire, coordinates this volunteer community speed-monitoring program in cooperation with the local police. While the police (known here as the Gloucestershire Constabulary) would like to monitor speed in every community in the county that has a complaint, as we all know, those kinds of police resources just don’t exist anymore, if they ever did. But many people seem ever-more inclined to drive at highway speeds, even within towns, near schools, over pedestrian crossings, and the like. So, the answer was to find a way to allow communities themselves to take action.

I’ve often said I’d work for free to hand out tickets for speeding and dangerous driving, and love the story of the senior here in England who stands at the end of her front garden pointing a hairblower at oncoming cars in a successful bid to get them to slow down on her street filled with children. So, short of pulling out my own hairblower and setting up a lawn chair, this scheme here really intrigues me. So, I had to look into it more.

Here’s how the it works. Locals can volunteer to participate, advising their local area Council office and the Road Policing Unit of the Gloucestershire Constabulary that they want to do so. At least six volunteers are needed, with smaller villages encouraged to team up with other villages if numbers are an issue. These volunteers get training in how to use the radar gun and administer the program, with the cost of training, risk assessing potential monitoring sites and ongoing administration being borne by Gloucestershire Constabulary.

With three volunteers working one monitoring site, one volunteer uses the radar gun, while two confirm and record the licence plate number of any speeding vehicles (restricted to those travelling at 37 mph or more in a 30 limit (about 60 km/h in a 50 zone), or 48 mph or more in a 40 limit (about 77 in a 65 zone), and recording the time, date and location of the speeder. The information is then passed to the police, who arrange to have letters sent to the drivers (if available, another member of the volunteer community team sends the letters). A driver can receive letters for up to three speeding incidents after which time the police with intervene with a view to prosecuting the speeder.

The county has even created a brochure describing how the scheme works. It includes a humorous line about the safety of participating in the program: “It is true that some drivers wave or gesture in a less than supportive manner, but actual confrontation has been very rare and our training covers how to deal with such situations.”

Hmmmm…if I were to volunteer for such a scheme then I'd definitely have to undergo intensive training to learn to stop myself from the “waving” back that I tend to do now when I see a speeder. Perhaps best left to the more civilized members of the community.

Day 168 - At a discount

The Brits are in love with the Germans. Well, actually they're in love with the Germans' discount supermarkets. One such store recently opened in the town of Moreton in Marsh. Like the king of discount stores, WalMart, Aldi set up in space on the edge of town. In reality, Moreton isn't very big, so you don't have to go too far to find Aldi.

In a survey that came out earlier this year, Brits voted for Aldi as their favourite supermarket, taking the top spot away from a higher-end supermarket known as Waitrose (think Whole Foods in Canada, and you are getting close, while Aldi is closer to the equivalent of No Frills). In second place was Marks and Spencer (we had those for a while in Canada), with third going to another German discount retailer, Lidl. Waitrose actually fell to fourth place this year after being in first for three years. Discount shopping options are definitely on the rise.

Our friends in town are in full agreement with the love affair with the new Aldi. They see it as  much-needed shot at the stores that are too expensive and don't consider the needs of families and seniors who can't afford the high prices and don't want the fancy foods.

Phil and I have been in the new Aldi a few times as it is near the garden centre we like to go to for a walk and coffee. What's interesting about their marketing strategy is that for the most part, all of the products are their own brands. It reminds me a lot of when Loblaws came up with their No Name and President's Choice brands...you know that the products actually come from the big brands -- just the packing is different. However, what can be a bit off putting to us Canadians is that most products don't indicate their country of origin. The exceptions are meat, eggs and milk, all of which are sourced in the UK. It's the kind of store where groceries line the outer edges and down the middle are a mish mash of items some buyer obviously got a deal on. No real rhyme nor reason to what's there. On our last visit we actually saw a fake pile of poo with a face on it for sale as a kid's toy (and no, I'm not kidding).

The check-outs are similar to WalMart...usually quite long. One of the things I always admired about the British is that they have retained exceptional politeness when it comes to supermarket checkout; they don't rush you through, and wait until you have finished bagging before they begin checking out the next customer. At Aldi, you have to put your groceries back in your cart and then bag them yourself away from the till (they have a shelf along the back wall).

The prices are cheaper in many cases (but not all), so I don't begrudge families looking for deals (although when I've been in the store, the amount of pre-made processed food I see in shopping carts doesn't seem to be the answer to saving money).

The problem I have with the concept is that because we've chosen to live in somewhere as special as the Cotswolds, it's really tough for us not do what we can to support local farmers, shops and providers. We are frugal and look for bargains like anyone else, and we find them with the local suppliers. And when a local product is more expensive than that provided by its big-chain counterpart, we buy less (think meat), which isn't a bad thing either.

But no one else in town -- as far as I've noticed -- sells fake poo, so if I'm ever in the market, I'll go back to Aldi ... although I didn't noice their branding on that particular product.

Day 167 - Finding my feet

As I slowly make my way to gentle recovery from foot issues, we decided to make today an easy stroll to a movie — all flat surfaces. Not quite enough to get me back to my minimum goal of 10,000 steps a day, but close enough for now (bigger walks planned as the week progresses…yeah!).

Joanna Lumley (from Absolutely Fabulous);
Timothy Spall (Peter Pettigrew in Harry Potter);
Imelda Staunton (Dolores Umbridge, Harry Potter, and
Oscar nom for Vera Drake); Celia Imrie (Calendar Girls  and
The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel); and David Hayman (character
actor, so lots of stuff including Tailor of Panama).

Fittingly, the movie we decided to go see is titled, “Finding your feet.” It’s about a woman who is on the brink of her husband retiring after a long and glowing career that has resulted in wealth, and in him being given a title and her gaining a Ladyship in the process.  While their celebrating this pending retirement with a big party in their massive home, she finds him in a compromising position with a “friend” of hers. She goes to live with her much poorer, but worldlier sister who lives in a London flat. Her sister encourages her to join in a senior’s dance class with her, and her she learns to live, love and laugh again.

Although a somewhat predicable story with a few plot holes or awkward segues, it’s full of fabulous English actors who could make reading a phone book interesting. It’s a simple, sweet story that reminds you to make the most of life…as if any of us really need that reminder.

On the Smith/Walsh movie scale, we give it 3 out of 5.

I most particularly enjoyed watching the film in one of the “love seats” at the Regal Cinema in Evesham, sitting with a pillow behind me and nestled next to Phil drinking a lovely cup of tea that came with tea in a proper pot and separate container for the milk — as it should. Civilized cinema watching.

And…I am finding my own feet are feeling great again!

Day 166 - Moreton Rangers

We're having another bout of Canadian winter here in the U.K., and today we find ourselves staring outside at snow covering everything! It's pretty on the yellow Cotswold stone, but the accompanying wind makes you want to stay inside under a blanket and watch old movies on the telly. 

Yesterday though, with the cold wind blowing but the snow having yet started, I ventured out to the local football grounds to watch the Moreton Rangers play, leaving Ange to stay warm at home. I think the team's name comes from the reference to the Lord of the Rings for which Moreton-in-Marsh is claimed to be Tolkein's inspiration for the village of Bree, and the Prancing Pony Inn where the hobbits meet Strider (Aragorn) who is one of the Rangers of the North.

The 2017-18 Squad - The best player today was the young
lad in the front row, third from the right.

The Moreton Rangers are the local football club that plays in the Hellenic League Division Two West. To put that in perspective, the Premier League, with the likes of Manchester United and Arsenal, is the top division in the U.K. The Hellenic League Division Two is 10 divisions lower than that! Today, the game was a Hellenic League Bluefin Sport Challenge Cup game (it is like the FA Cup in its format, with teams playing against each other in single knockout games throughout the season, but it would appear limited to the three divisions within the Hellenic League) against Division One West team, Easington Sports. Easington is an area just outside Banbury in Oxfordshire, about 20 miles to the northeast, and their team was one division higher in status.

Before they put in the new clubhouse under the left end.

The Rangers play at the London Road field on the east side of Moreton in Marsh. It's about a 15-minute walk from where we live. I wasn't certain as to whether one pays to watch football at this level or not. As I walked into the parking lot, it became apparent that I would not. The pitch (that is what they refer to as the field) was in pretty good shape considering the weather we're having and the stand was a simple cinder block structure that had long since lost its wooden bench seats.  However, the club had built into the one half of the structure a club house with chairs, a large flat screen TV which was showing the Six Nations rugby match between England and Ireland when I arrived, and a snack bar (so quite civilized I must say). A tunnel runs into the back of the stand and that is the location of the change rooms. 

Of course, I had to stand outside to watch the game as it's the Canadian thing to do. I mean, the sun was still shining when the match started with temperatures hovering around 1 or 2 degrees, and even though the wind gusts out of the northeast were hitting 40 miles an hour, the windchill didn't seem too bad. The wind did wreak havoc on some of the longer kicks and passes. An early goal was scored by Easington and that turned out to be the match winner.  I lasted until half time, when suddenly it began to snow. Fortunately the wind was to my back as I headed home for a cup of tea, a biscuit, and...oh yeah, that old black and white movie on the telly!

Ale of the Day: Foundation Best Bitter, East London Brewing Co., London

Day 165 - St. Patrick's Day

Did you miss me? I've been absent from contributing to the blog due mostly to work load, but partly because I have been a bit of a lazy sod. However, now I have some time, and by sheer coincidence I get to write about St. Patrick's Day here in England.

Most of you know that my last name is Walsh, and through thorough investigation, by Angela of course, she found that my father's family emigrated to the Manchester area from County Mayo. So, today I am to celebrate my Irish heritage, but aside from the green beer and shamrocks, what do we really know about the guy who we celebrate on this day?

Well, it seems St. Patrick actually was from England, Scotland or Wales and came to Ireland in the late 4th century as a slave of Irish pirates. Imagine that; Irish pirates! He landed in County Antrim in Northern Ireland where he herded sheep and took care of pigs for his captors. His real name was Maewyn Succat, and he eventually escaped back to England and became a priest. As legend would have it, he returned to Ireland to convert his old captors. He spent the next 30 years building churches and schools, and eventually he succeeded the first Bishop of Ireland. His death was on the 17th of March in the year 461. 

Hang on.....what about the snakes?  I thought he drove the snakes from Ireland?

As it turns out, that is only a myth. The reality is that the last ice age killed off the snake population and the Irish Sea formed a barrier that restricted snakes from getting back to the island. There are other myths too about St. Pat.  He did not start the Christian movement in Ireland; there were other Christians in Ireland long before him.  He did not defeat the pagan druids; that was a story made up by his followers a couple centuries after he died. And, a few centuries after that, they made up the story that the shamrock was St. Patrick's way of explaining the holy trinity. 

Oh the lies! But there are some truths. For example, the first St. Patrick's Day parade was held in the United States in 1761 by Irish soldiers of the British Army, and the day is arguably when the most pints of Guinness are consumed (but in total, over 1.8 billion pints of Guiness are consumed each year). And finally, some of the world's greatest landmarks are turned green (use of tricky lighting) to mark the day. They include the Pyramids and Sphinx in Egypt,  Christ the Redeemer in Rio, the Sydney Opera House, and the world's tallest building in Dubai.

 Ale of the Day:  Guinness Stout Ale, Guinness Brewery, Dublin, Ireland. OF COURSE!!!!!!

Day 164 - A one horse(race) town

The window at Cotswold Grey, a lovely furnishings
store on Moreton's High Street had these beautiful
horse head scuptures made using branches.

Moreton in Marsh has gone horse mad...well, that would certainly seem the case if one just perused the window displays on the High Street. Actually, every town, village and hamlet in the Cotswold goes a bit crazy at this time of year as today was the final day of the week-long Cheltenham Festival, one of the preeminent  meetings in the National Hunt racing calendars in the UK.

Cheltenham lies about 22 miles southwest of Moreton. We wrote about our visit there in a previous blog. It's held every year, usually around St Patrick's Day, and draws many to the Cotswolds, including many people from Ireland, where this type of racing originated.

National Hunt racing is what its called when horses jump fences and ditches in a race. This is distinguished further by hurdle races, where as the name suggests the horse jump over hurdles, and steeplechase where the horses jump over fences, water, and ditches.

Cheltenham's is one of the biggest races of the year (alongside the Grand National at Aintree, a village north of Liverpool). It's actually a collection of races held over four days:

• Champion Day: This first day of races is famous for the "Cheltenham roar," an enormous cheer from the crowd that emits when the starter lifts the tape for a hurdle race.
• Ladies Day: As you might expect at some point in a British Horse Race, on this day you'll see hats and finery on display. The Queen Mother Champion Chase takes place.
• St. Patrick's Thursday: Guinness, Irish music and a few races make up this rather celebratory day.
• Gold Cup Day: The big race day. This steeplechase covers a distance of 3 miles 2½ furlongs (5,331 m), with 22 fences to be jumped. The Chelthenham roar returns as the horse come up the hill. 

Cheltenham race course. Source:www.thefestival.co.uk

The Festival got its start in 1860, initially being called the Grand National Hunt Meeting. It was run at various locations until 1911 when it went to Cheltenham where it has remained ever since. This year, 260,000 people attended the event to watch races that gave out a total of £4,590,000 in prize money over a total of 28 races. As with any horse race, a lot of money is bet: £2,300,000 was withdrawn from cash machines at The Festival in 2016.

Sounds a bit rich for me. I think I'll just stay in town and admire the window displays.

Day 163 - Country style

Being a professor of entrepreneurship (among other business things), Phil does have a natural draw toward supporting businesses that are local and run by people looking to fulfill a dream. As he always tells his students, you will be more successful if you do something you love. And I might add, you can consider yourself a success if you find yourself doing something you love.

In Moreton in Marsh, we often take what we refer to as "town walks" on days when we're working and so can't get out for a longer hike. Often on those days, we take the opportunity to slip down Oxford St to go by a shop called Henry's of Moreton and have a look in the window. Henry's is a really lovely shop selling country and coastal clothing. Think tweed and sail cloth, horses and hounds, fishing boats and shingle beaches. Ah, what lovely combinations ... I'm sure you get the idea and in your mind's you eye are now blissfully walking down a cliff-edge beach or across a windswept moor.

Today's walk was a delicate trek around town. I have self-diagnosed myself with extensor tendinitis, an inflamed tendon in the top of my foot. I don't usually like to share my aches and pains publicly, but, as this is something that usually befalls runners from overuse, I am rather chuffed to advise everyone who will listen that I HAVE A SPORTS INJURY. Well, Phil and I have been averaging about 70 km of walking a week, so something was bound to give. LOL!

Henry of Henry's of Moreton.
Souce: twitter.com/henrysmoreton 

To "rest my foot" after a few blocks of walking, I suggested we go into Henry's of Moreton to have a look around at the advertised sale items and get a closer look at all the clothing we tend to admire from the window display. Generally, when looking, we are mentally outfitting our kids, and that is exactly how today's perusal through the store started. However, we soon found ourselves looking at items for us. You just can't help it...who can resist well-mde beautiful wool coats, soft leather or suede boots, crisp linen shirts ... aah.

In true entrepreneurial fashion, Henry's was started by a couple with a love of coast and country, Neil and Debbie. They opened the Moreton store in 2015 in a Grade II listed, Cotswold-stone building just off the town's High Street.

As they say on their website: "Running a business that combined all things country, with a nod to the coast, our love of dogs and horses (and Debbie’s unashamedly desire for tweed, stripy tops & sail cloth jackets) had been a concept we had both secretly harboured for many years."

Neil was in the shop today when we went in, and was a wonderful guide through the various brands and products he carries, many of which are made in the UK. His dog, Henry, a gorgeous Golden Retriever, greeted us ... his low growl 'hello' letting us know who really runs the place, and, as Neil explained, advising Neil that he was anxious for his walk.

It didn't take long for the Neil and Phil to be talking sports, horses and pubs. All the better for me as I got a chance to take longer poking around the shop.

Phil came away with a nice jacket, while I managed, with much effort, to restrain myself from a purchase. It wasn't for a lack of finding something I wanted. I need time to step away and decide which of the many wonderful pieces I saw that I am going to get! Thank goodness the shop is just around the corner. I'm sure my foot will stay sore foot long enough for me to have to take more town walks...and, while doing so, a few more shopping rests.

PS. Remember: Shop local!

Day 162 - Pi(e) Day

My friend Brooke at the College of Nurses loves pie so much that she celebrates Pi Day with her friends every year by eating way too many pies. The benefit is that there are always pies left over from her pie-athon. This year, I am missing out on the Coconut Cream Pie she is bringing in for an office meeting. Damn.

Source: Pillsbury.com

If you're not in the know about Pi Day, here's a brief explanation. If you remember back to your math classes, as some point you learned about Pi (or “π” as it is denote by the Greek letter). You probably remember that it represents the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter. Not to bring back bad memories, but at some point you probably had to memorize the formula for the area of a circle (A = πr2) and the volume of a cylinder (V = πr2h). I'm pretty sure most of us have NEVER found a use for either of those hair-pulling formulas.

Of course, as we all know, math lovers are real party animals. So, 30 years ago, one of them decided it was time to celebrate Pi Day (in San Francisco of course). He was a physicist name Larry Shaw and he chose March 14 as the day to celebrate because March is the 3rd month...and 3.14 are the first three digits of Pi. (Still with me...WAKE UP!!!)

So, what does this have to do with our trip to the UK? Well, I could segue to the fact that theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking died today (which is also the date of Albert Einstein's birthday). Hawking was remarkable, the epitome of what it means to make the most of life and what you have.

However, I think I will segue back to pie. It is actually just a coincidence that Pi has to do with circles, and Pies are circular. The origin of the words don't have anything to do with each other..

Last week was National Pie Week here, and it had nothing to do with math either. It was simply to celebrate that wonderful creation: pie. But I can build in some stats about pie, if that will help with the seguing. While we Canadians tend to like the sweet pies as our favourites (apple pie 17%; lemon meringue 14%; pecan 10%; blueberry 10%; and, pumpkin 8% according to research done by Tenderflake), the Brits like their pies savoury (Steak & ale 22%; Steak & potato 17%; Cottage 15%; and Chicken & mushroom 13%). It takes fifth place before a sweet pie (apple 10%) makes it onto the list of British favourites.

Melton Mowbray pork pies, eaten at room temp...
generally.

Every year, the British Pie Awards are held in a town called Melton Mowbray. Melton Mowbray is, in fact, itself the name of a pork pie that has been granted Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) status (meaning unless it's made in the region around Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire, it can't use the name). Only nine producers can call their pork pies Molton Mowbrays.

Okay, back to the Pie Awards.

To the award judges, a pie is deemed to be "a filling wholly encased in pastry and baked." They've been known to get into rather heated debates about the difference between a pie and a tart and a casserole. A tart has only pastry on the bottom. So, in my friend Brooke's case, she actually made a Coconut Cream Tart. Shepherds pie is topped by potatoes and doesn't have any pastry involved, and so should be called a "potato-topped casserole." And don't even get them (or me, for that matter) started on what you call something placed into a dish and then a slice of puff pastry put on top!

The judging of the British Pie Awards takes place in St. Mary’s Church
in Melton Mowbray. What a heavenly place to celebrate pie!
Source: britishpieawards.co.uk

Do you think they need judges?
Source: britishpieawards.co.uk

On Monday, the 2018 awards were handed out. The overall champion was a Steak and Ale pie by a West Sussex family-run bakery called Turner's Pies. Their pie scored a near-perfect 99/100, beating out more than 950 other entries. They also won in the small producer category ... Phil will appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit.

The winning dessert pie was for ... surprise, surprise ... an apple pie. Kendall Rugby Club ... yes, a sports club ... won for their pie, which only goes to show you how extensively pie has made it into the cuisine of the nation.

Pie of the day: Stargazy pie, in honour of Stephen Hawking (I'll let you Google that one!)

Day 161 - Fun facts: Canada vs the UK

With Phil off to Winchester and me working (actually on my novel, finally...woo hoo!), today's blog is a return to some fun facts comparing Canada and the UK.

National dish:

In the tikka tikka tikka tikka
tikka room...

• UK: Chicken Tikka Masala -- a spicy curry dish allegedly not available in India, and created when British restaurant eaters complained they wanted more "gravy" with their Indian food, and so the chef made a sauce using a can of tomato soup.
• Canada: Poutine -- well, according to a Globe and Mail survey we apparently wanted it to be maple syrup, but we don't eat that out of the bottle...or do we?

Number of foreign-born residents as of 2016:

• UK: about 13.5% 
• Canada: about 21.9%

Food item you have to smuggle into the U.S.:

Haggis: I can only guess this is
what happens to sheep's lungs when
they refuse to give up smoking.

• UK: Haggis -- Apparently, sheep lungs just don't cut it as a sausage holder in the U.S. say the people for whom beef jerky is a delicacy.
• Canada: Kinder Eggs -- Actually, this changed in January this year, but before then Kinder Egg fans had been held at the border for hours and threatened with fines between $300 and $2,500 for this candy...because as Canadians their intention was really to choke small American children to death by forcing them to swallow the toys inside. Who needs gun laws?

Longest place name:

• UK: Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch in Wales, which translates from Welsh to “St. Mary’s Church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the Church of St. Tysilio near the cave.” How can you miss it?!
• Canada: Pekwachnamaykoskwaskwaypinwanik Lake is a lake of Manitoba. The name is Cree for "where the wild trout are caught by fishing with hooks." Its right next to the one with the similar name that translates to "where the wild trout are caught by fishing without hooks" which you'd think would be longer. Ah, the strangeness of language, eh?

Tallest habitable building:

The Shard -- or the Salt Cellar as
some Londoners refer to it.

• UK: The Shard in London (actually, also the tallest in the Europe Union) at 1,020 feet (310 metres)
• Canada: The One in Toronto at 1,005 feet (306.3 metres).
• Always begs the question: Why?

Largest body of fresh water by volume:

• Loch Ness: It has a surface area of 56 sq km (22 sq mi) and is 230 m (126 fathoms; 755 ft) at its deepest point. The Loch Ness monster has been spotted in it over 1,000 times. 
• Superior wins here for Canada, but we do share it with the U.S. It has a monster too: Mishipeshu, which is an underwater panther covered in scales. If you pick a lake that resides solely in Canada, it would be Great Bear Lake, which, despite it's name, does not have a big monster bear living it ... although they have been spotted taking the occasional dip.

Day 160 - A hint of Cologne and some Comic Relief

The old meets the new.

Today's blog post is about yesterday. That's because today is another one of those work day things that we can't seem to avoid for too long. Although we did go for a walk to the garden centre this morning and did a bit of shopping, that's about it; yesterday was much more interesting.

After a somewhat restless evening in Cologne (the hotel where we were staying had a wedding, or some sort of noisy party, echoing through the place until the wee hours), we awoke in time to take a quick walk around the Catherdral area.

Cologne is Germany's fourth largest city and the Rhine River passes through the middle of it. As goes for many major European cities, it was founded by the Romans, in this case in the 1st Century when it was known as Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium.

That first word, Colonia, is where it gets its current name from (although it's Köln in German). The word "Cologne" is, as you might guess, the French version of the city's name, who occupied the city several times. We English speakers have also chosen to use the French version of the name.

Being in a very industrial part of the country, it was bombed heavily during WWII, when almost all of the city was destroyed. Today the city has the look of one that has been rebuilt, sometime quickly as economics would demand, and other times with great thought. In some cases you can see how the remains of bombed buildings have been used as the basis for a restored building.

The Cathedral is the most visited landmark in the country. Construction on it started in 1248 and continued until 1473, although it was still incomplete at that time. Work didn't start back up again until the 18th century, when it was completed to its original design. The cathedral was originally designed to house the relics of the Three Kings which had taken from the Basilica of Sant'Eustorgio, Milan, Italy.

Phil and I didn't have a lot of time for site-seeing, but we did manage to have a morning coffee and pastry while sitting outside at a table enjoying the spring-like temperature of 15C!
The rest of our day was travel, travel, travel: a train to Dusseldorf, a plane to London Heathrow, a subway into London Paddington (which proved aggravating given that portions of several lines we needed were closed for repairs), and then a train back to Moreton in Marsh (delayed). We were hungry and exhausted by the time we finally made it back to the flat.

Rowan Atkinson seals the deal for the charity Comic Relief.

We did have one rather humorous experience. British Airways has changed up their safety video. Instead of having to watch the flight attendants (or not watch the flight attendants as is more likely to happen), they run a video of the safety features and introduces their charity. The video stars Chiwetel Ejiofor, celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay, Thandie Newton, Sir Ian McKellen, Gillian Anderson and Mr. Bean (Rowan Atkinson). You really can't help giggle when you watch it. Here you go...for your daily laugh.