It was 14 months since my last visit to the UK, specifically England, and I really hadn't missed anything very much. Not the vile state of the roads and always being on the look out for potholes, not the traffic jams, nor the non-traffic jams to the British, which were for me a nightmare as well, not the prices, nor really most of the things on the supermarket shelves. Favourite shops had gone, cashpoint machines were hard to find, while talcum powder and Caramac were gone it seemed!
But what I had missed, and what I was able to stock up on was time with friends. The joy of chatting into the night with people I have known for over 30 years in some cases, was immense. Catching up with old friends and making a few new ones is time well spent. Even time with my accountant, who I have worked with for 20 years, was great, and nice to be greeted with a hug and a kiss too! A highlight of my first evening, which was up in the West Midlands, was going out for an Indian meal "just round the corner" - yes, somewhere we could walk to after a civilised G&T in their garden! I was particularly impressed by the pickle tray that arrived with the poppadoms.
The following day, there was a depressing visit to my old home town, Worcester, before an even more depressing 3 hours on the M25, but when you get to East Sussex and a view like this over green fields, it makes up for it!
The next day was London and the primary reason for my visit. I will write in more detail about the show in my other blog, but suffice it to say that while there was no publicity beforehand, on Friday 28 June, the Tate finally launched this page about a fascinating exhibition.
From the Tate, a relatively short taxi ride took my brother and me to The George at Southwark for a restorative drink and light lunch. I follow The Gentle Author, who writes mainly about east London, and frequently has engravings and old photos of coaching inns from the past, so walking into their courtyard was for me like walking into a piece of the Bishopsgate Institute picture library.
Once appetites had been dealt with, it was a short walk to London Bridge station for a train back to the relative civilisation of Kent. The Shard dominates that area of London now, but the Station itself has a nice bit of modern art for those looking up rather than at their smart phones.
Tonbridge High Street is as unlovely as I remember it from my childhood, but does at least have a branch of Poundland (other similar brands are available). They didn't have any of the final bars of Caramac available to purchase - a truly sad moment for me! There are a couple of points of interest however - Tonbridge Castle and also The Chequers Inn with its noose where Wat Tyler's brother was hanged many years ago. The Chequers is of course named for the tree, also known as Common Service, which has berries that can be used for brewing beer if other, more palatable, ingredients are not available.
Saturday was spent travelling, arriving home in the early hours of Sunday, I was fit for little more than hammock time during the day, before the shock, or rather shocking, results of the first round of French parliamentary elections. The second round is this Sunday, and I fear I will need to write a blog to explain how that all pans out after that.
And no, that isn't me in the hammock being tended to by Spooky Cat. I have a hammock chair which I find bizarrely comfortable, and was wallowing in that instead.
This blog is being written in advance, as we are being social this weekend, and I won't have time to wrestle with the internet. By the time you read this, the UK election results will be out, and France will be voting. Enjoy what you can!
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