Monday Monday!

Aside

When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces,

The mother of months in meadow or plain,

Fills the shadow and windy places

With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

1837-1909

And we have all had quite enough of it now, thank you. The rain that is.

During the last two years MTL and I have been gallivanting – staying in Inns, Country house hotels and cottages and I have always written honestly about them. Sometimes it must seem that I find everywhere ’lovely’ but we have been remarkably fortunate.

However this latest jaunt – my birthday treat - wasn’t perfect. MTL had booked a ‘superior room’ which we both found a bit bleak. The bathroom was very good but then I noticed the bedspread was stained - I opened the bed and the bottom sheet may have passed muster to an unpractised eye (I have been changing beds for decades) but it clearly had not come straight from the laundry. I don’t mind roughing it on occasion but this was not one.

I asked the receptionist first, if this was a superior room – it was. Then I told her about the bed linen and she found it difficult to believe so I persuaded her to come and look - BTW she did immediately offer me an upgrade to a ‘four poster’ at no extra charge but I knew MTL wouldn’t want the bother and asked her to just give me a couple of clean sheets and I would change it myself. She was reluctant to do that but when she came to the room and saw for herself we decide to accept her offer and trailed to the other end of the hotel to an even more superior room.

From then on all was satisfactory and I’m sure this was just a rare blip, but hopefully it won’t happen again We had only had good reports previously and as we expected, dinner was a delight and it all turned out fine – apart from the wretched weather. The next morning I was chatting to a nice man from the Isle of Wight - we were both staring – mesmerised - at the relentless down pour and I told him of the first time we had brought our French DIL here to dinner – with the same endless rain. As DIL went to get out of the car clutching a beautiful pale lemon sweater MTL took the sweater from her so she could use her brolly and there was a universal gasp of horror when MTL dropped the BPLS in the flooding gutter.

The nice man went one better; he married his wife when one had clothes coupons – in the war - and she had used her precious coupons to buy a beautiful outfit. The weather was wet- the car had a sliding roof and all their friends threw in confetti which stained her suit for ever. That is real disaster!

The taxi driver was befuddled; why would we be going to Minehead on a day like this? Going home. Why would we be staying in a hotel so close to home? We tried to explain but he clearly though we were daft as brushes. Maybe he’s right.

Oh I forgot to say; at dinner we were asked if we would accept the wine, as a gesture - to apologise for the inconvenience. We were happy to agree.

BIRTHDAY TREAT
Aside

Yes I know my birthday is well and truly over but the girls have been busy so it was time for our GDO (girl’s day out) as my birthday treat ie they treat me to lunch and I buy the wine - but in that I was forestalled.

Margaret had planned it, which usually bodes well. We had been warned that the weather would be poor but although there was a September like mist there were patches of blue and we were in high spirits. Our coffee stop was Webber’s Post which overlooks mysterious combes. We had chocolate ginger with the coffee Margaret had packed and she reminded us there was a half an hour's walk past wooden sculptures if we fancied it. To my delight Joy and Jackie, who are presently having slight mobility problems, agreed to have a go. It is on the flat and has plenty of resting places. The walk was so lovely with all the bird song, and the sculptures were fascinating.

Then we had a drive through Dunster down the very windy road towards Dulverton. Margaret is used to the top road and felt sure we must have overshot the Dulverton turning as it took so long, but we kept reassuring her we hadn’t passed it and it would soon appear. Then, in spite of our warnings she overshot and turned rather violently left to our screams of protest. But the minx had been having us on and we were actually going north of the road to Dulverton to Pulhams Mill on the road to Wimbleball Lake. PM is one of the oldest sites on Exmoor (1086). A thousand years ago the mill was standing on the banks of the Pulham River and grinding locally grown wheat.

An English couple now run it as a show case for high quality local and British arts and crafts. The husband told us in 1979, just back from living in Australia, they were inspired to renovate the ruin of the mill. He showed us photographs of the gradual renovation which still continues. There is now a shop and café. The husband Ian Mawby makes superb quality furniture and Pauline Clements is an illustrator for the National Trust and places such as Chatsworth House and York Minster. She also paints bone china mugs and tea sets for the shop.

We could have had lunch in the garden by the stream but the slight chill kept us indoors. We were allowed to bring our own wine which Margaret provided in spite of my protests and I wasn’t allowed to contribute at all. I’m a little hazy about what we did after lunch. We certainly wandered round the shop and the garden, sat briefly in the sunshine and drove home.