Cup cakes with jelly babies.

We always think of my niece Chris as Action Girl.  She has always been an enthusiastic climber, hiker, and runner - lives in Chamonix and is married to a mountain guide.  She also has a first-class brain - apart from the odd blonde moment which I think she inherits from her aunt.

 Having just returned from climbing with her husband in America; Yosemite, Oregon and the Grand Canyon were mentioned, we were delighted to hear she was walking with Paula - an old climbing friend - through Somerset and would pop in for a cuppa.

 When, would be decided nearer the time and Chris gave me her UK mobile number.  Unfortunately Chris - suffering from jet lag - no wonder - gave me an old defunct number. I had visions of her lying in a ditch until I finally heard from her.  She and Paula had been to Glastonbury and thence to Watchet where they found an excellent B&B.  They liked Watchet and had dinner at The Star - liked it so much they booked dinner for the following evening.

 

After a hearty breakfast they walked along the coast to Minehead and loved the harbour – fascinated to see the cottages with sandbags at the ready and flood boards at the door.  They had refused the offer of lunch as the hearty breakfast was more than they are used to, but by the time they had wandered past the shops and up the hill they were more than ready for gallons of tea and water, lashings of strawberries and cream and cupcakes with jelly babies.

 I really enjoyed catching up with Chris and getting to know Paula – in fact I was so caught up I forgot my duties as a hostess and suddenly realised Chris was refilling the kettle for more tea.  We watched a bit of tennis - with the sound off, and carried on chatting.  There was some hilarious confusion as Christine’s husband is called Paul and Chris calls Pauline Paul.  All too soon it was time for them to leave.  They planned to walk part of the way to Watchet and then get the steam train.  The next day they were off to Derbyshire where Paula lives, then Hartlepool where Christine’s mother and sister live and back on Monday to Chamonix.  Life in the fast lane in my bookJ

 Chris has taught me how to text, Murray is in the Championship Finals this afternoon and Daphne expected on Tuesday.  How much excitement can one gel have?

Photos below

Cup cakes with Jelly babies

 Hi!  Chris on left and Paula

 Bye!

Spot the Birdie

 Left of the fat balls
 Tit on the nuts
 Ditto
 Still there.

Peonies and favourite eating places with Australian family.

 The Royal Oak Luxborough

 The Smugglers Inn at Blue Anchor
 The Crown at Exford

Our Visitors

They spent two nights in Bath and fell in love with it.  They visited the Pump room where they had a late lunch and an early tea so managed to enjoy the celebrated, quaintly dressed string quartet - the sublime Jane’s spirit hovering over all.

 They were impressed with the architecture of the Royal Crescent and the Royal Circus and the beautiful art collection in the Holbourne Museum.  At some stage they were accosted by a guide dressed in Georgian costume and decided to do his tour which they thoroughly enjoyed.  He was extremely knowledgeable and gave a lively commentary throughout and dismissed any impression of the Georgians as elegant and refined; they over indulged in food and drink and behaved more like louts than gentlemen.  How horrid.

 They were surprised to find how hilly Bath was and were quite tired after the tour which included tasting the waters at the Spa which tasted as these waters always do - foul.  James said - eyes open wide,

 ‘We weren’t allowed to even TOUCH the water in the pool.’

Later my DIL enjoyed a swim in the magnificent new pool where you can see the roof tops of Bath.

 

As a little girl in Cheshire she used to be teased by a shop keeper when she went to buy ‘Sally Lunns (rhyming slang for Bath buns) so a visit to the Sally Lunns’ shop and Museum was a must.  But she was a little disappointed to discover the Bath Sally Lunns bore little resemblance to the ones she remembered - the only ones I remember clearly were Eccles Cakes and Bakewell Tart.

 

On the way home they digressed to Yeovilton with its plane Museum and - was it there - they were astonished at the cramped quarters of the Concorde.  No wonder Joan Collins was constantly having Martini spilled down her bosom.

Bath