My friend, Mary, and I went to what is called a Prom in England. For some reason I thought it would be dressy and formal but it turned out to be very casual, rather like the Pops in the States with mainly classical music being played and two light operatic singers. We took a dinner and wine and joined the others on the grass for some live music.

Here is where the audience sat, eating and drinking while waiting for the music to start.

The crowd really got into it when they played Rule Brittania! It was like hearing a patriotic song in America. They even played a song by a German (I think) composer which is what is the traditional song used by French Can Can dancers. A few women formed a line and did an inpromtu dance to go with the music.

There were fireworks afterwards. It was really a great time.

The next morning we went to a boot sale, a flea market type of happening. Notice the really gray sky. About ten minutes after I took this photo it started pouring. We still managed to get a few really good deals. I wanted a few toys for my grandchildren when they visit and found a little boy selling his collection of dinasaurs. He told me they were 1 pound fifty for the large ones. I told him it was a little expensive for a rainy day. I ended up with a big bag of them for five pounds with a few toy cars thrown in. (He seemed happy with the deal.)

There are all sorts of what are called fetes here in England, along with flower shows and boot sales. My friend, Mary, and I tried to get as many in as we could in the short time I was in the Cotswolds (which is one reason Maurice didn’t come here with me). On this particular day we were going along with a lady who lives in the same complex as Mary is staying, where she is cat sitting. The lady was one of those English ladies with an exquisite, upper class accent and she had a bit of an attitude to go along with it. She was driving. We all got into her beautiful red Jaquar, me in the back seat. From behind I could see her beautifully manicured nails and some magnificant diamond rings on her fingers. We took off, zooming through the forests up and over and around curves, she driving like the Queen with a secret service car in front of her clearing the way. I could see the speedometer from the back seat and saw that she was going 50 which didn’t seem too bad until I remembered that the English don’t use kilometer per hour, but miles per hour. She raced along talking to Mary in that cultured accent telling us of another lady who had insulted her once by saying at a dinner, “Shall we get out the good china for …, (the Queen).
At any rate we arrived safely at the flower show which turned out to be at a splendid Manor house, if that is the correct term.

Just a humble little abode.

There were white tents all over the lawn selling tea and cakes and also a small band which played to entertain us.

A first prize winner in quilt making. This is, I guess, the flower show portion of the fete. People had entered their flowers to be judged, along with food, photos, fruit and vegetables. The Queen and her late husband had a trophy for one of the winners. She had once lived in the village that the people attending the fete, and entering their various items, came from and I think she missed it. As I was strolling around I remembered so many scenes from English books I have read about fetes and jealousies over someone who always manages to win first prize for her roses or cake. It is such an English thing, rather like the great markets in Paris.

This guy was there to whip up excitement about various events going on, such as welly tossing, and telling us when someone had won a prize in the many little raffles going on.

Some lovely flowers in the garden. A man in the gardens, perhaps the manager of the estate, was telling us that he once got to meet the Queen of England (not my Queen but the real one) and as he was leaving to return to Oxford she asked him how he was returning and he told her by the Oxford bus and she said, “What is that like?” Just think of all of the things in life that she has missed out on. Not all of them good but just the things in life that we find common and ordinary.
Anyway, the Queen returned us safely after giving us a driving tour of the village where she and her husband had once lived.

Well,not really, but I did visit an Inn where several scenes were filmed in the TV series, Inspector Morse. Morse, the cranky detective, is shown having a beer usually bought by his detective, Lewis, along side the river where water is rushing over a spillway. It is a beautiful setting and was the spot for a great late lunch with a friend. Did I mention I am in England? My friend is cat sitting two spoiled but cute cats in a gorgeous place in the Cotswolds. I was invited for a few days and, as soon as I bought my Eurostar tickets, took the train, then the London Underground, and then a bus, here I was. We are having a great time.

The sign for The Trout Inn, a really wonderful place.

The front of the Inn. Isn’t the architecture great?

A lovely bridge spanning the river.

The spillway.

Our delicious lunch with the spillway in the background.

A view downstream.

Several people have left comments wondering how I got my grandchildren to lie still for the photo of their feet. Believe me, it wasn’t easy. Here are some examples:

Micah has his hands up and Holden is pointing his toes.

Michah put up one hand and Holden is still pointing his toes.

Holden put his head up and I don’t like the babies feet that way.

The baby moves his feet and Holden bends his knee.

Finally I got everyone with their feet still. Do a little cropping and Voila, as they say in France or, Bob’s your uncle, as they say in England.

Well, it’s over. They’re gone. It was fun and I have to say I am totally worn out but had such a good time. I had the three oldest grandchildren for four days while their parents went for a short trip to Paris with the baby. I think they all had a good time and got to watch way more TV than they ever have. They played some children’s video games that I found online and because we didn’t have enough books I ended up reading books to them from the Internet, or a voice read the book while pictures were shown. One they especially liked was one called Enemy Pie. The two year old like Tommy the Train which I had more than enough of.

Number one is serious and sensitive and he told me some things that he worried about, especially the coming school year as his Italian isn’t fluent yet. He watched out for the other two and told me if they were doing something they shouldn’t have. He is six and can read books at the third and fourth grade level. Maurice is always teasing me when he sees me eating a snack or a piece or candy and will say, “Is it good? Is it very good?” It drives me crazy. Anyway, he started saying the same thing to the kids. Jackson came up to me in private and said, “Can you make Maurice stop saying that to me? It really bothers me.” Of course once Maurice heard this, he said it even more. Number one also said, “You know what? Sometimes when Maurice talks, I don’t understand what he is saying.” I just told him, “Sometimes, I don’t either.”

Number two is four years old with white blond hair and dark green eyes. He likes to cuddle and often sat on my lap whenever I sat down, usually at the computer. I took them all on a walk to the nearby village cemetery. They asked where the people were buried and I explained that they were in the ground under the grave markers in coffins. Number two said, “They cough in there?” I think of the three, he likes my chocolate chip cookies the best and even asks if he can have one after breakfast.

Number three is the comedian at age two. He has no trouble keeping up with the older two although he does fall occasionally. He apparantly heard our discussions about Maurice asking about how we liked our food. One day he had his mouth full chewing while he seriously looked at Maurice. When his food was all chewed up and swallowed he said, “It is really good, Maurice?” He can drive older brother number two crazy when he tell him that he, Number 3, is Number 2. He’s learned exactly how to make his brother mad and he is very good at it.

Number three is the watermelon kid. He couldn’t eat enough and I had to stop him from eating the rind.