Author: Leslie Kimel

Ludlow

Ludlow

On Wednesday we took the train to Ludlow, another little town in Shropshire, close to the Welsh border. Ludlow was probably the most beautiful and perfect town we visited in England–because its medieval street plan, castle, and church were all still intact.   The first 

Mom’s Christmas Pecan Balls

Mom’s Christmas Pecan Balls

I’d like to take time out from my England-trip posts to say how happy I was to be home this weekend. I got to do all my favorite things: play with the cats, garden, and bake cookies!

Warwick

Warwick

A man standing in front of an old Norman gate in Warwick, England
Rob in front of Lord Leycester Hospital in Warwick

I told you a bit about Warwick Castle, and now I have to tell you a little about the tiny town, Warwick, that was nestled all around it.

I don’t think there was anything ugly in Warwick. No, the town was almost maddeningly cute and perfect, with lots of little brick houses and walled gardens and very narrow streets. One of the most interesting spots in town was Lord Leycester Hospital, a collection of topsy-turvy 14th-century timber-framed buildings clustered around the old Norman gateway into Warwick. It was once home to Warwick’s medieval guilds, but now it’s a sort of retirement home for ex-soldiers.
 
The day we were in Warwick was frigid and crystal clear. We explored Warwick Castle for hours, climbing to the tops of towers and standing in the freezing dungeon reading messages scribbled by prisoners long ago. By the time we started making our way to our hotel, I was stiff with cold and lumbered along on numb, block-like feet.
 
I was so relieved when we finally reached Charter House, a bed and breakfast situated in a tiny, lovely Tudor cottage on West Street. The house was timber-framed and charmingly crooked, with window boxes full of frost-covered geraniums. And it was so cozy and warm inside!
 
The proprietress, Sheila, showed us to our room. I followed her in a sort of frozen daze.
 
The cottage really seemed to me like a little Hobbit dwelling; the stairs were so, so narrow and steep and winding, and the interior walls weren’t straight at all–they billowed and bulged in the most intriguing way. Rob had to duck to enter our room (the doorway was so short). There were large, dark exposed beams in the ceiling, and the floors were wonderfully creaky and slanted–hilly! I tried to take everything in and absorb the fact that we were staying in a 600-year-old house.
 
Sheila started fussing with the radiator. She was probably about 65 and very grandmotherly and kind. (She kept calling me “dear,” which I love.)
 
“Is it warm enough?” she asked. “Shall we bump it up a bit here?”
 
The room was so cozy. I was standing just inside the doorway, still in a sort of delirium. There were so many little lamps–six–and there were tea cups by the bed, along with a little pot for boiling water. There were “cakes,” too, to go with our tea (well, actually they were blueberry muffins).
 
“We keep a little sherry in the dining room,” Sheila told us. “Please help yourselves. It might help you sleep in a strange bed.”
 
I knew I wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping. This was probably the most comfortable room I’d ever been in. The bed was big and soft, layered deep with blankets and covered in a brocade bedspread. There were loads of pillows, and lots of rugs on the floor.
 
I just felt so well taken care of. So sleepy. We said good night to Sheila in a sort of haze.
 
It was only about four in the afternoon, but it was completely dark outside. I went around admiring all the room’s homey little touches. There were pretty flower-shaped soaps in the bathroom, and the towels were hanging on a warming rack.
 
“Hey Rob,” I called, “the towels are warm! They’re heated!” I’d never seen the like.
 
We were starving, but none of the restaurants in town were open yet. So we just waited, sitting in the lamplight by the miraculous radiator, reading about Warwick Castle in the souvenir book we’d bought at the castle gift shop. (Rob was reading aloud from it.) I ate my blueberry muffin. Then I fell asleep. And then it was five and time to go wandering around in the cold dark again searching for a place that served something vegan. Luckily we found a great little Thai restaurant! (The owner was so nice; she took our coats and arranged a little space heater at our feet. With a big smile she talked about how homesick she was, in winter, for Thailand. “I want to go home,” she said, saying something sad but smiling so sweetly.)
 
When we got back to our room we had the best time watching a nice, soothing, very British documentary on Victorian carpet gardens. (One fellow filled his up entirely with different kinds of lettuces.) We also got to watch a little segment about door mice nesting in a wooded highway median. I kept hoping we’d find a show about hedgehogs (the most English things I could of), but we didn’t.
 
Still, it was the best night. The room was so snug, and the bed was so soft, and I was so, so thankful to be warm.
 
The town of Warwick
No eyesores in Warwick. Everything is pretty.
A man sitting in a cozy bedroom
Rob in our delightful room
Warwick Castle

Warwick Castle

On Tuesday we took a train from London to Warwick, a tiny Tudor town in Shropshire, in order to see Warwick Castle, one of the best, most famous castles in England. I did not want to get up that morning because our room in London 

London: Day Two

London: Day Two

On day two we took the tour bus to Westminster Abbey. It was so cold–I mean, brutally cold. We went on a guided tour of the abbey. Our guide was a verger in a long black cassock–a rather prissy, persnickety fellow who didn’t put up 

First Day in London

First Day in London


Prince Albert Memorial

Rob and I just got back from England! It was my first trip to Europe (Rob’s second), so it was a really big deal and very exciting!

We were in London for three days and out in the countryside the rest of the time. In London, we stayed near Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. The park and gardens were so big, we only saw tiny parts of them. And we learned just a little bit about their long history: In 1536 Henry VIII seized the land that is now Hyde Park from the Westminster Abbey monks for use as a private hunting ground (it was forest then, perfect for deer and boar hunting), and it wasn’t until 1637 that Charles I opened the park to the public. I’ll tell you just a few of the things we saw in the park and gardens: ornate Victorian fountains in the Italian Gardens; rows and rows of London planetrees (sycamores) along the Broad Walk; and, near the Queen’s Gate, the Prince Albert Memorial (a gilded pavilion containing a golden statue of the prince). White swans sailed about on the Round Pond, and there were pigeons perched on the heads of all the statues.

We spent our first morning in London running around in the freezing cold, taking pictures of stone dolphins and goddesses in Kensington Gardens. We oohed and ah-ed over the beautiful Victorian buildings in the surrounding neighborhoods–including the cathedral-like Natural History Museum, and Royal Albert Hall with its magnificent dome and friezes.
 
We kept having the same dumb conversation over and over again:
 
Leslie: “Oh, look, isn’t that neat?”
 
Rob: “Oh yeah, that is neat.”
 
The things we were seeing were so famous and so awesome, we didn’t know quite how to talk about them. As Rob put it, “When you’re looking at all this great stuff, you feel like everything you say is completely inadequate and totally stupid.”

Around mid-morning we had a weird breakfast at Pret a Manger. Rob got a “cheese toastie” (grilled cheese sandwich), and I had some icy veggie sushi. (A traveling vegan always has a tough time of it.)

Later we took a tour bus to Trafalgar Square, where all the fountains were blowing in the cold wind, splashing the stone paving of the plaza. It was about 3:00 and nearly dark. We walked around in the freezing gloom and fountain mist and admired the huge but gentle-looking bronze lions at the base of Nelson’s Column; we later learned that the reason the lions look so tame is that the sculptor used his dogs as models.

We spent some time in the National Gallery, where we got to see the Leonardo Cartoon, a beautiful unfinished drawing by Leonardo da Vinci; it shows Mary and the baby Jesus with St. Anne.
 
After that we went on a freezing ghost tour of old London, strolling through dark tunnels and dimly lit alleys, under shadowy gargoyles, and past the scary dragon statue in front of the Royal Courts of Justice. Our guide, Phil, was a real card. He turned all his ghost stories into jokes. For example, he led us to an old stone building, once the studio of a Victorian portrait painter, and he told us the place was said to be haunted. It was haunted, he explained, by the ghost of one of the painter’s nude models. Then he added with a sly grin, “The ghost of a naked lady. So what, should we wait here for the next 40 minutes and see if she appears?” Then he laughed in a devilish sort of way, did a gleeful little jig, and skipped off into the darkness ahead of us; he was on to the next stop!
 
A fancy hotel in London
A fancy hotel close to our not-so-fancy hotel
Leslie standing in Trafalgar Square in London
At Trafalgar Square. By the way, I’m not a big fan of that hat. Photo by Rob MacGrogan
A Potpourri

A Potpourri

I’ve got kind of a mixed bag of pictures here from the weekend. And this time I think I’ll actually talk about some them–instead of just ignoring them. …

Mule Day and More

Mule Day and More

On Saturday Mom, Kris, Bun, Rob, and I went to Mule Day in Calvary, Georgia, a tiny town (population: 200) just about half an hour north of Quincy. Mule Day is one of my favorite festivals.

During the Benevolent Reign of Baby Sophie

During the Benevolent Reign of Baby Sophie

Last night I was reading an old journal from 2004 and I realized how different our lives used to be when Kris’s kids were very young. The preschool-age Sophie really put us through our paces! We played imagination games with her all the time, and it was so much fun–and so exhausting!

Saturday, February 21, 2004

Sophie loves to pretend that she is a Pink Twiddlebug and I am her friend the Good Witch and Bunny is the Bad Witch. Sophie and I run away and hide under bushes and behind trees while Bunny hunts us, hunched over, hump-backed, with her snarfly witch-face on, one eye squeezed shut. “I smell them,” Bunny will say in a gravelly old voice, creeping through the Secret Garden. “And I know I could see them if only I had my good eye. But I left that at home.” Bunny is quite scary as the witch. She creeps around sniffing, trying to find the Pink Twiddlebug by smell. She sets “spiderweb traps” and summons the hawks to swoop down and capture the Twiddlebug. Sophie runs through the yard screaming and squealing, truly terrified.

A little girl wearing fairy wings