Denis Lipman's Blog, page 9

Set in Stonehenge

Haven't made it out to Stonehenge yet, but as the old Prodigal Wife is always on the trail of Merlin and all things Druid, I'm sure we will someday! In the meantime, Mary Ellen at mefoley sent us this great shot of this mysterious monument, which has apparently stood in place for millennia (must talk to our fixit man about that!).
Mary Ellen says that she likes this photo because "the clouds were outstanding that day," but in my opinion, the best thing about this photo is—no tourists like us! ...

The Grand Old Duke of York—uncensored

Along the way, Jessie and Lew entertained Kate with old nursery rhymes.
"Oh, the Grand old Duke of York, he had ten thousand men—"
The second verse surprised us: they sang about putting the fox in a box and never letting him go. Quite unlike the version we played for Kate, where the fox is freed and nothing nasty happens. Times change. Kate liked her grandparents' version and applauded. It certainly made more sense.

Catch of the day

At the end of the harbor we saw a couple of chefs in white smocks and blue checkered trousers deep in conversation. Suddenly they stopped talking and made their way to the wooden stairs, something had caught their attention, all we could hear was the soft soggy swish of gold brown seaweed that clung to the underside of the stairs, then from around the sea wall, we heard what they must have heard, a soft hum and popping gurgle of an engine. A moment later, a small red hulled tug-like fishing b...

Roast lamb worth the gambol

We have a wonderful variety of seafood and meats here in the States. For instance, beef here is so good, I used to pack a rib roast and bring it to Blighty to share with my folks. They just loved it! That being said, I must confess, I do miss English or Welsh lamb. Sadly, Americans are not big lamb eaters. And no wonder. Most American lamb is derived from sheep that ceased to gambol a long time past. The lamb here is a bit long in the tooth, a bit tough, and it smells gamey. The other lamb wi...

This bit's too tour-guidey...

Kent has some dramatically rocky and jagged coastline, punctuated by a few Victorian seaside resorts seemingly preserved in briny aspic. Here, in this southeasterly part of England, a visitor can easily discover oyster beds laid down by the Romans, forts with crumbling battlements, the grassy foundations and outlines of Roman temples and soldiers' barracks, and part of a road that runs as straight and true as the shadow Caesar once cast over this part of Britain.

No milk in your tea?

"And you never have milk in your tea?" Mum said it sympathetically, finding it hard to believe.
"Never. Tastes better. Really. You should try it," said Frances.
"At my age! Tea without milk." She laughed, then tried one more time. "Frances, you never had milk in your tea? Not ever?"
Frances confessed to drinking her coffee black too.
"Oh, well, coffee, yes, but tea? Funny, really. Oh, well."

Daggers in America

Those of you who've been following this blog for a while know we lost our handsome and well-loved Oscar Wilde earlier this year. Well, Prodigal Wife's birthday came around, bringing along a lovely new kitten. We've named him Daggers (see last post). It's the perfect name for him--he's a tough little lad, even though he's not much bigger than my hand. He's friendly though and, at least so far, we haven't seen any English-style reticence (a little bit of demure wouldn't be so bad!). So join me ...

Dagenham? You come from ... where?

"Dagenham? You can't possibly come from Dagenham!" a flamboyant acquaintance in the West End of London once told me. "You simply must tell people you come from 'Darn-em' and you must place your hand over your mouth as you say it, just in case."
Just in case? In case of what? I felt an urge to defend the place, but then thought better of it.
Dagenham. "Call it Daggers," said another wag. Well, I called it home.

Random meanderings

"Let's order some wine?" I said.
"Thought you'd never ask! God, it's hot, isn't it? Or is it me?"
"No air conditioning," I said.
"Oh, I'm used to it now. Well, I should be. I've lived in England, what – twenty years?" Adelard was originally from Canada. "You have to get used to it. But I've come prepared. I'm Roget-Gallaired from stem to stern. And, as Bette Davis would say—" Adelard puffed on an imaginary cigarette and whisked the air with his paw. "Body odor offends me!" Adelard emitted a long...

And the award goes to...

We have been hoarding wonderful awards like squirrels hide nuts before winter, but now it's time to reveal all...

The lovely Helen, A.K.A. The Machinist's Wife, awarded me the "Honest Scrap" award, which really made me smile. You're supposed to list ten honest things about yourself, then pass it on to ten other deserving souls. Well, the reason it made me smile is, since we're being honest, I've already revealed quite a bit about myself on this blog and anyone who wants to get in deeper is g...