We arrived at Harlaxton Manor last night. The students have been prompt at the refectory, and it is lovely to have three hot meals a day at regular intervals. It just as lovely to have someone else wash the dishes afterwards. It is positively, deliriously wonderful. And what makes it all the more wonderful, if that is possible, Debbie and I have been relegated to the Gregory Cottage since the faculty state rooms are full. Oh, woe is us, and we rub our hands with glee. No need for plush blue starred carpets and gilded ceilings for us. Give us a little cottage with a parlor, a kitchen with a kettle, a sea of daffodils, and we are happier than Wordsworth in Cumbria. Here is our cottage door under the blooming dogwood trees:
And then when we thought it could not get any better, we found the tub. A deep, prop tub. A tub that a lady of a certain age recognizes as the truest way to appreciate the panacea that hot water can be.
But it would not be the cottage of Shangrila if it did not have Digestive Biscuits. Ah, and I hear Debbie on the step, and look, here she comes in with an enormous bag of digestive biscuits, chocolate and plain. Oh, is life good? Resounding yes. :-)
1 comment:
Greetings, Ladies of the Posh Cottage! You do not sound like the grandees of the Fabulous Faculty Awardees but rather like Grandes Dames Taking the Waters Somewhere healthy in the bowls of Britain. Mahvalous! Dear Professor Ruth I have attempted clever appreciative replies x3 since Sunday when the little coloured pets gave a mother's day message but computer, Google and server have conspired against it. Maybe you will see this and know that I saw the lovely photo of the Visitation in the misty atmosphere behind the scholar photographer and also the fine medieval meal with the curling red something atop 3 identifiable vegetables beside the Knuckle. More, More! Love, Priscilla
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