Her Beauty and her Terror

The UK adventure wound up with two days at our head office in Maidenhead, also the site of another newish division of our group. I looked after the finance and admin integration for this division earlier this year when we acquired them, so had a few colleagues to meet in person. One of the team made me traditional Latvian soup for lunch - red broth with vegetables, cabbage and ham. Delicious! 

We did also manage to fit in a final pub meal at a five hundred year old pub at Windsor, the Fox and Crown. As we were driving there, we could see Windsor castle in the distance. 

Meetings and planning sessions took up most of the work time. The final board proposal had to be put together and submitted. I ended up working till 6pm on my last night to run a few more scenarios on my model for responses to board questions. I regret not putting more time into the model in the first place to make it “tweak” proof but I had no idea I would be needing a Rolls Royce model rather than something just functional. That analogy seems particularly pertinent since Flynn bought a car while I was away - at the cheapest end of the spectrum so I’m hoping that the repair bills don’t eclipse the car price.

I should have wrapped up the blog on the weekend, as the work parts don’t lend themselves to many stories, but since the reason I’m travelling at all is for work…a few reflections:

I tasted loneliness on this trip. Not a lot, and not often, but in a few tough moments. The blog was a way to  connect with “my people” - please accept my thanks to you for reading. Every comment, every like on Facebook, every messenger or WhatsApp message was a connection, a touch of home. I almost called this post “You’ve got a friend” but I wanted something about Australia and Carol didn’t fit. You may or may not have noticed but references to music or books in the titles are almost strictly UK sourced.

I went into this adventure without really recognising the magnitude of the task - show up at a business, learn how it works, build relationships, make a plan to set up in Aus, put together a proposal, then go do it. Well. I recognise it now. I’m humbled by their faith in me and grateful for the opportunity. I’m excited, but I’m terrified too.  The terror is mitigated by the support and assistance I’ve experienced from everyone involved, and also by a quiet, sure confidence that only came to me on my last day at the facility. I can do this. 

I’ve loved England - the history, the beauty, the people, but I’m SO looking forward to being home… the wide brown land for me. 

Mind your ‘manors’

I hesitated to post this - it’s been a very quiet time in terms of interaction with people, which is really the part that adds richness and fun to travel stories. 

I stayed Saturday night at Buckland, a manor house dating back to the 13th Century. Its very luxurious and creaking with history (as are the wooden floors in the upstairs hallways which might drive some people crazy.) On the subject of floors, the bathroom floor was heated - It was lovely and I was wishing  we had that at home.

Like all the houses entitled to be called a  “manor” house, Buckland was originally part of a manor, with a church, farmlands, and a village with the usual services (blacksmith, bakery etc). Nowadays, the church is functional and the 10 or so ‘village’ houses nearby are all occupied but there are no shops or services.  It’s set in 10 acres of grounds with a little stream running through it and it’s incredibly tranquil. You walk to the churchyard next door through a very old wooden gate with a fancy iron latch - very “secret garden”

The restaurant was packed at dinner time due to crowds attending the nearby Cheltenham races (steeplechase, not flat) so they couldn’t fit me in.  I had a quiet dinner in the bar, with a crackling fire and a couple of glasses of wine. It would have been nice to have a companion there to chat about the day. I did have a good conversation with the waiter who was planning to go to Australia to work just before we pulled up the drawbridge for Covid protection. During my tour I was thinking that I was fortunate to come at the best possible time of year, with the autumn foliage was a riot of red and orange and yellow, but apparently in spring the ground is covered with bluebells and daffodils, and in winter the snow and frost make it a winter wonderland.

I’m not sure who the owners of these boots are, but I loved seeing them in the foyer.

The breakfast room was particularly lovely and I spent about an hour over breakfast on Sunday morning, enjoying a few cups of coffee while I read the Times, feeling very lady-of-the-manor. before heading off to the train station. 

There was time to have a quick wander around Moreton in Marsh, although most places were closed. Look at the cute free range eggs for sale in the coffee shop. I was also fascinated with the council sign on the community notice board about the gravestones.

I’m back at Heathrow now which is a huge comedown after Buckland. Typical airport hotel surrounds -  grotty, busy roads with limited food options, although there is “Airport Bowl” across the road if I’m tempted to go bowling (very unlikely). I walked down the road a bit to order a late lunch at the Marriott Italian restaurant, which had good reviews. I waited 40 minutes for my food , and then found a piece of metal in it after only a few bites. I may have been rude to the waiter about it… I gave it up as a bad job and waited till dinner for a meal. I’m sitting here over a questionable pepperoni pizza and a nice Shiraz feeling uncharacteristically sorry for myself. 

Thou art more lovely and more temperate

An unpreposessing start to the day with undoubtedly the worst coffee I’ve had in the UK and a late, silent, blinker agnostic driver who liked to use all lanes of the road. The day could only get better and it definitely did.

I had booked a town car to take me to the Cotswolds, prior to a private tour starting from Moreton in Marsh. It was dark till we reached Oxford and then the sun came up just as we reached the good bits. We drove through Burford and I fell in love, only to promptly cheat on that love as we passed through the next village and then the next. I have never been anywhere so heartbreakingly lovely. The beauty of the autumn foliage, the limestone cottages and the rolling hills is impossible to capture in photos, but I did my best.

I had enough time in Moreton in Marsh to grab a coffee and a raspberry croissant (yum!), before being picked up by Richard, my guide. He was excellent - blending information and local knowledge with a great personality and some pretty good driving on the small lanes, where reversing skills are clearly a requirement. We stopped in six villages, each time he gave me a brief rundown on the sights, a little laminated map with a walking path on it, and a set time to be back at the car. Depending on the village I had between 20 minutes and 2 hours to explore each one. I’m going to let the pictures speak for themselves, with just a few highlight stories.

One of my favourite moments was in Upper Slaughter, where I was dropped off just down the hill from a little church. By the time I reached the house next to the church, an older gent was waiting at his gate there and said to me “So where are you from?”. He was clearly up for a chat and I found out he had lived in the village since he was 4, in this current house for 45 years after moving from one just a few doors down. He never married (“the other lads were too quick and took all the girls”) but wished he had because it’s very lonely at night. Here’s his house. 

In Snowshill we looked at a house that was given to Catherine Parr as part of her dowry, and was eventually owned by a “collector” (hoarder) with the motto “let nothing perish”  who collected more than 22000 items there. I also saw a fabulous older couple in a vintage convertible complete with leather luggage strapped to a rack on the back and leather driving hats and goggles. SO wanted to get a photo from the front but wasn’t quick enough. 

Lunch was a pie and a cider at a little thatched roof pub in Broadway that had the fire going. I suspect it was for atmosphere, as the weather here is positively balmy compared to Yorkshire. I understand that roof thatching costs about $250 a square meter and needs doing every ten years or so. It’s ironic that they were originally a poor mans roof, installed because the material was waste and labour was cheap. Now the material is still cheap but the labour makes it the most expensive roof you can get.  

At Stanway, after looking at the Earl’s residence including a 16th century gatehouse, we climbed over a style to look at the cricket ground with the clubhouse funded by JM Barry (of Peter Pan fame) who played cricket there with Arthur Conan Doyle, HG Wells and AA Milne. I’m kind of wondering about how and why two children’s authors, a Sci Fi writer and Detective fiction writer all ended up friends and intend to do some research. Here’s the house.

 A couple of final photos because I can’t bear to leave them off. An 85 year old model village tourist attraction that’s an exact 1/9th copy of the High Street and surrounds of Bourton on the Water (£4.50 entry), and a couple of gorgeous landscape/ house photos. 

Sithee Yorkshire

Well… you can put the Yorkshire into the girl, even if she’s a blow-in from Aus. I headed out very early to walk to the train station to buy the Christmas Toastie (more about that later). As I walked around the corner, I saw a girl with her head down looking at her phone, about to step onto the road into the path of a bus. Startled, I yelled “Watch out Love”. Clearly I need to go home soon. As well as Luv, there are a number of barnyard animal names that people call ladies here. The Scottish crew use “hen” and the Sheffield guys use “duck”. A lot of others call me “Hanna” but I’m not sure if that’s the accent or a wrong name. 

So- on to the sandwich. Very disappointing actually. Too dry and dominated by the cranberry sauce. I’m quite inclined to try my own version at home with some improvements, because the concept is fun. 

Thursday night  I packed up my things ready to leave the apartment tomorrow morning. I’ve really enjoyed being here and am sorry to go back to hotels for the last week. I’ve posted a photo of the view out my window. The building two blocks over is all windows on the side facing me and they never have blinds down. It’s like a live dollhouse or a theatre that’s there whenever I turn my head to look out my window. I’m pretty sure all three floors are one apartment. 

The work crew here all made a huge effort (hour+ travel) to come to dinner on our last night. We tried a Spanish Tappas place that was good not great. We may not have given them the best chance to showcase their wares as we needed to order “safe” options. Let’s just say heavy on the patatas bravas and jamon and cheese croquettes, and light (invisible) on anything like octopus or artichoke. 

Just to make sure that we remember how friendly they are up here, there was a parade of well wishers coming to say goodbye, and a few final questions about the likelihood of encountering a spider if they come to visit (arachnophobia central here). My favourite comment was from one of the ten Marks (I never did figure out what last name matched with what person) who said “who would have known five weeks ago that I would have made two new wonderful friends”. 

I’ve taken a few photos of the boxes that we build - it’s hard to get an idea of the scale without standing next to them but they are huge. I tried to get one of the team to pose, but she was reluctant. She’s been with the business for about 15 years and was originally one of the cleaners, but now works in the “snagging team” cleaning up the boxes and checking for flaws. Her co-snagger, “Nobby” wanted to try out some Australian on me…. He was hopelessly wrong, with efforts like “How’s your wife Sheila” and “How you goin blue”. God knows where those phrases came from. He trotted them out again in the lunchroom where I tried to explain that “blue” was for redheads. They were a bit perplexed so I suggested that another example was that Nobby, who is huge, would be called “Tiny”. They roared with laughter and I think he might now have a new nickname. 

In the last week, I’ve been under a bit of pressure- it was looking like we would lose the warehouse we want to lease. It’s the only property of the right size available right now and the loss would tank the whole project. Another tenant was making increasingly attractive offers to the landlord and we didn’t have a lot of extra to play with. Thankfully we won the property, so it’s all systems go. Very relieving to get that settled before we headed off for the SOUTH.  The drive to our London hotel took just over four hours and I’m exhausted (and hungry!). More tomorrow. 

The rain it raineth every day

No blue sky for two weeks now…I don’t know how how people do it. It’s dark at 4.30 in the afternoon which tricks me into thinking it’s bedtime at 6.30. I’ve tried to get out and about around my apartment, but it’s hard to get motivated to rug up and go out in the cold. I’m leaving for the SOUTH this Friday - work demands (plus apathy) have limited my travel adventures so will make this post a grab bag of bits and pieces that happened during the week. There’s a Cotswolds adventure coming on the weekend so I promise more entertaining stories then.

We had a road trip to County Durham this week, to look at a new supplier. They design “ plug and play” modular electrical systems that reduce the need for qualified electricians to do individual wiring on every unit. The owners are two brothers, both very engaging (one with a Mr Rogers style cardigan on) who plied us with tea and digestive biscuits before giving a tour of their factory. In one area of the factory they have built the frame of a two bedroom apartment (no walls) and they run verified testing to show the speed an electrician can wire it up, vs the speed of the modular installation. Very very interesting. The timing was perfect to stop for lunch on the way home at one of the many old pubs on the roadway. The beef and pepper pie and a cider went down very nicely and when we came outside after lunch there was a brief glimpse of blue. Unfortunately it disappeared as we drove back towards Leeds.

There have been a couple of social opportunities to stave off potential loneliness. My team back in Aus sent me a 5.30am meeting request and it turned out to be a virtual birthday catch up, complete with a happy birthday banner and a few committed souls donning a party hat or a rainbow wig. I’ve also managed two dinners out with various senior people in the business, a nice break from cooking for one, and I have finally perfected the layering technique to be warm outside but not broil when I go back inside. Here’s me off to dinner with full outer layers 

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The Christmas decorations have started to come out and I walked around the city one afternoon and evening to see them. There are a few mystery designs. Does anyone have ANY idea what a crown and a heart have to do with Christmas. I also found a Christmas toastie sandwich with turkey, cranberry, potato, cabbage, brussel sprout and leek hash. I’m not sure a Brussel sprout sandwich sounds like a Christmas treat. 

Yorkshire is full of owls and white flowers (the white rose of York I assume) in odd places - carved onto buildings, tiles on the ground and  fence detailing. My walking has been at a very ambling pace as I don’t have anywhere particular to be, so I try and spot them as I take a stroll. I was out walking when the garbage collectors were doing their rounds, and they had keys, to go into the locked courtyards in the middle of the blocks and wheel out the giant bins. It seemed really odd, but I guess if there are 30 apartments in a building and two big skips, it’s unlikely that anyone in particular would roll them out to the street, and you might not want the footpaths blocked with big bins? 

Workwise it’s a bit hectic trying to tie up loose ends and make all the plans that benefit from live face to face chats, but I’m still making time to sit in the lunchroom and get to know the crew. The casual conversations are all about the weather - the workshop guys have all asked separately how cold it gets at home and then scoffed a bit at the answer. Also lots of conversations and questions about “all them things that can kill ya”, probably brought on my a shark attack in Perth that was reported in the news here.  I brought in a huge batch of  chocolate chip cookies that I made on the weekend and those were a hit. Finally an update on the cleaners and the northern exposure problem (or is it southern….) that occurs when they clean the gents toilets. The safety barrier was only partially successful in keeping people out during cleaning, so I’ve suggested the cleaning time changes to about 10 minutes after the siren goes off for the shop floor  to start work. Let’s hope that does the trick. 

Ticket to Ride

 I woke up early to the sound of the indomitable rain, to scroll through a mountain of lovely birthday messages and take a few calls. The concierge who sorted my dinner booking last night was on the ball and turned up at breakfast to ask if it was too early for a birthday champagne. The answer is below.

He really did pull out all stops to get me a dinner booking last night. To give the full story, it was so cold and horrible and I was feeling uncertain about walking around on my own at night. He tried twice to get me into the hotel restaurant and when he came back the second time shaking his head, I may have been a bit teary…. he said “Don’t worry - you WILL go to the ball. I’ll sort something out”. Anyway, I was seated in alcove that I suspect did not normally have a table in it. It fit one chair and a tiny table. The black shutter is half of the entry and my chair was touching the walls - maybe just over a meter squared. York is packed to the rafters and I have been unable to get tickets to many of the sights - York Minster, the Castle Museum and the Merchant Hall were booked out all weekend. 

Back to this morning: Whilst in a warm dry building, the rain seemed manageable, but once I left the shelter of the hotel to walk to the Viking museum it was nasty. I had to deal with the wind blowing my brolly inside out repeatedly. It did make for an absence of crowds and some very pretty photos around the shambles.

We lined up in the pouring rain, as the door guard, in full Viking fancy dress, was unwilling to let anyone in a minute early. I did have a good chat to the couple next to me, and discovered that the girl, like many others I have spoken to, has never left the North. She said she had never had an opportunity to go to London, as it was expensive and very far away, and people from the South didn’t interest her. They had lots of good advice about local sights to see. Everyone has been so earnest about wanting me to like their home. It’s an interesting but subtle difference to the US. The US seems to have a different level of confidence- they know their home is good, ergo you will like it. Here, they are unsure. They HOPE you will like it, and then are very pleased when you say you do. I’ve had so many questions at work in the style of “So do you laike our country then?”

The Viking museum turned out to be a ride in a little cart around a Viking village with animatronic characters, complete with sounds and smells (yes really). It was completely lame but kind of interesting and when the ride stopped there were good displays of the actual artefacts they found in the dig nearby, including skeletons. I’ve taken a photo (with the boys in mind) of a fossilised human coprolite and will let you google what that is.

I had a ticket to a medieval house valid for later in the morning, but after wandering around in the rain for an hour, with another hour still to wait, wet feet and cold hands, I called it a day for York and headed to the train station. There I found that my train ticket for first class would be a non event- all trains were replaced by busses till the afternoon. Forty five minutes later I dragged myself back to the apartment for down time.  The heated towel rail is festooned with clothing drying out. A photo from the bus, blurry from the water running down the window gives you a feel for how dreary the weather is.

I booked an early dinner at an Indian street food restaurant, Mowgli. I sat on a swing, which is not conducive to multiple cocktails, so I stuck to one only. They did a birthday dessert for me, which was a nice treat.