But for now I'll stay in the moment, and the moment is pretty good. Tea and blogging after Pam and I take a morning constitutional through the nearby wood. Griffin is watching minecraft videos and Rowan and Berit getting ready. For it is Saturday, and today we go to Arundel Castle.
On Thursday we sped East through Lavant and Singleton to climb Cocking Hill for a walk on the South Downs. I pulled the car prematurely into roadside parking that looked like the likely trailhead as it was dotted with vehicles, but it turned out to be merely a turn-off and the business location of a Scottish family's snack truck. Two middle-aged parents and a teenage daughter sat at table outside the truck, the daughter looking fairly sullen. Da gave us directions to the actual trailhead just a bit up the way and we left firmly decisive about the Scottish accent being the best in the world.
Walking on the South Downs yielded some initial complaining as we climbed a hill in full sun, but once we turned South into the West Dean forest, our conversation became enlivened with discussion that included descriptions of our dream days and of our dream rooms. We picnicked, as we are wont to do, on baguette sandwiches and apples, before heading back out of the wood and down to the Weald and Downland Open Air Museum.
I'm not a big fan of walking around old buildings and living history museums. Mom and Dad dragged us through enough of that sort of stuff in New England when we were growing up. But this was a big one for Pam, and I was happy to accompany as we walked through all of these homes that had been rescued from some other part of England and reconstructed here, each one a little older than the last until we ended up in the 13th century.
For me the best part was at the mill, where a waterwheel turned millstones that actually ground the wheat that was used to make the baked goods sold on the premises. The volunteer there that Griffin and I met explained how the grooves in the millstones were cut at angles to each other to facilitate the crushing of the hull that would release the white flour inside. This prompted an interesting discussion about the origins of white flour baked goods versus whole wheat - as that was at one time an advancement led by the French, who (though the English volunteer was loathe to admit it) - had invented millstones that would separate the hulls from the flour without having to do the usual sifting afterwards, which is why, while the peasants had to settle for the (nutritionally superior) whole wheat bread, the French aristocracy were enjoying the wonders of white bread (see what I did there). This was all very fascinating for me as, moments before that discussion, I actually had no flippin' idea what it meant for something to be whole wheat / whole grain / whole meal.
Yesterday was Friday, and though I poo-pooed the idea of biking in England, we drove westward along the coast to Brockenhurst and the New Forest where we hired five bikes and set out on a 15 mile ride among wild horses! It was a great adventure during which we had our picnic amidst several of the ponies grazing in a Rivendell-like grove. There were also Shetland ponies the size of Great Danes and steer the size Volkswagon buses wandering about.
After the riding, we found ourselves down the road in Lyndhurst where, after a choice selection of meat pasties (bacon and cheese, chicken curry, and mince meat, potato and carrot - who says the English don't have great food?!), we settled in a hip and airy tea shop called Tea Total, where Kelly, the proprietor, and Josh, the barista, engaed us in conversation as it was Kelly and her golf pro husband's ultimate goal to make their way back to Arizona and set up a similar shop in Scottsdale.
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