Tramping tales for February 2010

“ GRANDPARENT TICKET FOR 2 -
Alpine Treat in Vaujany, France
Once in a lifetime alpine break to watch your grandchildren
master skiing, have snow fights...
Mostly enjoy the wondrous beauty of the ALPS!
29 January – 7 February 2010 ”

So read the card we received as a Christmas present... we were more than astonished.

Seven up in The Green Beast for almost twelve hours had to be the means to an end!
Barely a peep out of our little trio Otto, Roo and Kiki as they were kept engrossed by a laptop video or pocket sized Nintendo games. The highlight of this long road journey was crossing the channel on a train via the Euro-tunnel for the first time. This made for a 45 minute, slick and easy crossing with a chance to stretch legs standing outside the vehicle.

We stopped overnight in Dijon. After a long day in the car we didn’t fancy climbing back in to find dinner. Fortunately the big bowls of Moules et Frites proved well worth it!

As we began the final leg next day, a call came in to warn us of heavy snow falling which made our passage through Grenoble slow and even slower going up the mountain. Being a Saturday – chalet change over day, it was startling to see the long chain of traffic wending its way down.

On cue, the curtain rose to produce a superb scene on entry to Vaujany

On the outskirts of this delightful alpine village we found our south facing chalet
“La Maitreya” with incredible views directly onto the Massif des Grandes Rousses.
It had been a somewhat disconcerting thought for both of us to think of joining a party of mostly unknown people in a chalet for a week, all sorts of connotations ran through our head. Having hesitantly made our way down a steep pathway, thickly covered in snow with icy patches into the front door we somehow knew we had arrived at a special place. A laid back homely setting with log fire burning belied the luxurious time we were in for.
La Maitreya, owned by Anna and Pascall, ran as a catered chalet with the help of a most charming young Dutch couple, who told us they were there to ensure we all enjoyed a well earned winter break and present the very best of Alpine hospitality. This was certainly no idle boast.

Every morning we’d draw back the curtains to this view from our bed.

Our first afternoon was spent roaming around the little village spellbound by the views while the skiers sorted out equipment, confirmed ski lessons and arranged lift passes. When all was done and dusted we returned to our new home to find delicious freshly baked cakes and hot drinks awaiting us – this was a mere ‘start’ to the wonderful pattern that was to end each day. Later, as 5 children ate their dinner the rest of the party relaxed upstairs enjoying icy drinks with a variety of anti-pasti, local cheeses or exciting tapas served in front of the fire, outside the setting sun progressively colouring different peaks before our eyes. Once the children were tucked up in bed we’d be summoned down into the candlelit ambiance of the 500 year old wine cellar in the base of the house.

Our chef Lesley and hostess Hilde were an element that lifted our holiday into the sublime!

Here, we revelled in leisurely cuisine, served up plate by plate by Hilde before Lesley announced what imaginative and tasty course he had prepared before us. Not for one minute had we imagined dining in such pleasurable style. This perfect match of informal relaxation tweaked by luxury quickly melded a group of unknown folk into a very contented bunch chatting effortlessly about amusing incidents of the day.
Peaceful nights passed in deep comfort until we became sleepily aware that the rest of the house, were up and about. It was the final noisy departure of all the skiers that served as the signal for the two of us to arise and start our day with a quiet breakfast!
We’d plan our day with help from Lesley and Hilde, informed by weather forecasts, as we took in the lofty scenes beyond the French-doors. Mostly, we were fulfilled spending the first couple of hours of our day writing up our January blog before dressing up in our Mr Blobby outfits, being taken up to the village, provided with relevant passes and put on the bubble cars up to Montfrais. Such personal service!

This extraordinary week was made possible and further embroidered by our family –
Otto, Daniel, Roo, Kiki and Justine up on the slopes of Montfrais (1650m) a perfect snow park for beginners.

Close to the cable car a ‘magic carpet’ transported us to another level where we’d meet up with our group of skiers as the children were finishing their Ski School lunch in the centrally situated traditional wooden restaurant, one of three tucked carefully into a landscape of beautifully groomed piste in every direction. We’d have no inclination to eat lunch having expended little energy instead we delighted in watching the children polish skills learnt that morning as we walked up and around the piste tracks, warm as toast in the outfits and big snow boots, Daniel had acquired for us.

Mrs Blobby spellbound by the awesome wonders – we often had to pinch ourselves in disbelief at all we beheld...

Perfect day after perfect day followed. Mid-week is chalet staff time-off and we were given a change of pace with Pascal and Anna coming in to provide dinner on the Tuesday night. The following morning over breakfast Pascal proposed that before the weather changed we take an all-encompassing ski-pass to visit the full extent of one of the world’s most prestigious ski areas that make up Les Grandes Rousse. Justine and Daniel’s attention to detail to our every enjoyment in the Alps once again came to the fore as Pascal produced our passes and put us on the massive 160 person Cable Car up to L’Alpette. So began a magical trip that took us over and through astonishing landscapes with majestic glaciers, spruce woodlands and snowy slopes as far as our eyes could see. That wonderful hymn Oh Lord my God, in awesome wonder... reverberated through Lea’s head as we peered down from dizzy heights at tiny tracks of man, machine and animal amidst all that glistening whiteness. Oz en Oisans captured our attention as an easy access ski resort with snow to apartment doorsteps along with a group of three year olds having a ski lesson down a gentle, snow covered road in the centre of this village. The instructor pulled the sledge, laden with their skis back up the slope, while they toddled behind holding assistants hands.

As we criss-crossed snowfields and climbed ever higher via the different ski-lifts we were enthralled by the ever unrolling and most beautiful snowbound landscapes we have ever seen. An ominous bank of cloud closing in on the highest peak we were steadily making our way towards, had us anxiously pulling scarves a little tighter and wondering if we’d make the summit in time...

We failed! Freezing cold we could see no further than a couples of metres and made do with a photograph below the only point of reference that we’d reached the top.

We struggled down a stairway covered in snow hoping to get a chairlift down. In our ignorance we didn’t realise they were one way - to the top only and the controller on duty certainly made no effort to come out of his observation box to advise us. Fortunately it soon became obvious we’d not manage a ride down and we clambered all the way back up the slippery stairs with faces well chilled that we didn’t loiter up there too long.

We returned to 2700 only to be amazed to find many people sprawled across the snow enjoying a well earned rest no doubt from their snowboarding or skiing exertions. While others, happily ate and sunbathed on a massive terrace amidst all this spectacular scenery.

George enjoying a warming Chartreuse verte et chocolat chaud at 2700.

It was while we were indulging in a hot chocolate with a “dop” of chartreuse that we noticed the heavy cloud on Pic Blanc had miraculously moved off and we rapidly made our way back to the ski lift with many like minded folk and returned to the summit. Squeezed into a cable car Lea became aware of a familiar accent that seemed to stand out from the rest of the gabble going on. With George drawing her attention to The Tunnel that was now visible, she heard the man remark – “a South African” giving her the opening to turn round and say not really... “Zimbabweans by birth but we spent twenty years there”... They were from Somerset West and like us, making their second trip up Pic Blanc that day hoping to catch the breathtaking panoramic views from the top of the world


3,330m we could see forever... giving us views across France, Italy and Switzerland towards some of the most beautiful mountain ranges in the region- Mont Blanc, Grand Paradis, Massif Central, Meije, Ecrins... as we looked around.

The Alpine village of Vaujany is one of eight resorts in the Isere region of the southern France Alps that make up the ski area of Les Grandes Rousse. The more famous resort of all is Alpe d’Huez and we continued on our way to visit there. Obviously the most popular, as for the first time we found queues everywhere and although there were huge expanses of piste – we certainly were not taken by the crowds and the scary whooshing sound of ski and snowboards arriving from all directions that we made a fast getaway... A bird’s eye view of Formules Promeneur stood out with its 30km of paths, clearly marked and packed especially for walkers and we had to smile at seeing a few dogs out walking with their owners on all that coldness. Even benches to catch your breath or to consider a wondrous outlook! We fancied taking a part of that walk but as usual time had marched on and we began retracing our steps back to L’Alpette observing all the activity going on beneath us or around us on some of the 240km of piste available - not to mention quite a few adventurous adrenalin junkies doing some hair raising things in what seemed inaccessible places.

The sheer joy of snow!

After an incredible day out at high altitudes we were more than happy to baby-sit that night. Pizzas were ordered in for the children, always exhausted after their strenuous day of activity on the ski slopes, ice rink or swimming pool. And once those little heads touched pillows – all was calm for the night. The rest of the gang went into Vaujany for dinner and had a good night out.

Another glorious day dawned. Lea was horrified when George declared we wouldn’t need our blobby suits for going up the mountain that day! Taking no notice she donned her kit leaving her jacket zip open to acknowledge the good day. Fortunately he had a change of heart and slung his jacket over his shoulder and Lesley took us up to the bubble cars for Montfrais. Aware this unbelievable holiday was drawing to an end we found ourselves desperate to soak in this compelling scenery.

La Maitreya’s gang joined up in force to salute a successful day over lunch. All the beginners had turned the ‘corner’ and the children were now such confident skiers - there was much to celebrate.

Our Ramsden Family
A striking reminder of their amazing competence gained
in a matter of days along with the joyousness of skiing together.
Families that play together stay together

Did this photo bag the exultation of an alpine holiday that surpassed all expectations?

Returning to the village that evening we found the snow was ALL GONE! With all the dripping going on from rooftops and slushy dirt along the roadsides a kind of drabness was setting in. How could we be ending on this slightly depressing note? Fortunately Chef Lesley’s divine abilities within the kitchen proved the best distraction and Bananarama took care of the rest of the night.

The skiers were all up on the slopes for their final day as snow began falling. Over breakfast we delightedly watched the dance of snowflakes, observing the steady re-creation of another wonderland. By lunch time the white-out made us a little uneasy about our skiers out there. Chains had to be affixed to the wheels for the first time when the call to collect our crowd from the village eventually came through. In the meantime Hilde and Lesley insisted we join them for lunch. These two amazing young people had such a natural poise and connection to hospitality that contradicted their youth.

Our curtain fell ... We’d had it all and more!
THANK YOU Daniel and Justine we had the time of our lives

On Justine’s birthday we had our La Maitreya group over for Sunday lunch. Despite best efforts we didn’t quite match up to Lesley’s cooking but it SNOWED on our African Summer child’s birthday setting a perfect scene for the reunion lunch.

George made her a frog and Justine insisted it go up on her wall immediately- never mind the weather!

Tramping tales for January 2010

Snow, snow glorious snow began falling again on New Years Day and we loved it especially when we could go “snow crunching” around the paddock after each fresh fall. Blue skies, no wind and the amazing dazzle of snow clad fields stretching for ever for the likes of us folk brought up in Africa was a treat. Thus when every one was concerned about the Big Freeze in the UK and headlines proclaimed we were in the coldest winter in over thirty years we were relishing it.

Snow falling thick and fast forced us all to make a quick visit to The Rope Gallery in Barton on Humber! Talea captured the thrill of snowflakes for three sisters while Justine dashed into a supermarket!

A compulsive game took firm hold on the family. Leecy, introduced to Bananagrams in Australia, knew instantly it would make good Christmas presents for the Rubber Tramps and the Ramsden family – she was so right! Totally hooked, the rapid rattle of tiles and the shrill defence of words became a fast and furious nightly ritual. Easily drawing in passing friends and relatives with the noise it generated.

“Cow tipping” is Leecy & Holly’s forte. Incredibly, Carmen produced delightful cow stoppers for all members at the induction of Justine, Carmen and Talea. Lea is a temporary member on occasion. More especially if icy margaritas are on tap!

Combating non stop eating with daily exercise and plenty of family high- jinx in Moat Farm’s heated pool.

Time flies when you are having fun and all too soon our two weeks with Holly and Talya were almost up. Time in London was booked for a Female Finale! Finding the best priced train tickets to London for the five of us had ended up with two trains an hour apart... Yet, The Big Freeze upset British Rail time tables and five exuberant women hopped aboard the Cleethorpes train together.

Train change at Doncaster- Not even delays on a bitterly cold platform with snow flakes drifting in upon us was able to dampen our spirits.

From Kings Cross Station we made our way to Jesmond Dene Hotel, a mere block away. It couldn’t have suited us more perfectly. Dropping off our luggage we promptly caught the tube to Victoria and met up with Carmen over early dinner. On making our way across the road to the theatre – icy conditions had Lea and Leecy hanging on to each other fearfully when a splat on the pavement had them realise one of their number was down!

I know my heart,
I know my mind
I know that I...
Stick out behind – OUR HOLLY!

Fortunately the man at whose feet Holly had fallen helped her back onto her weak pins as her family became a helpless gaggle of giggling Gerties. The mention of the above chant to Holly had us all rocking with mirth in our seats that it was as well we were in the very back row. Soaring seats - miles away from the stage had us hire one pair of binoculars between us. As the lights dimmed we were surprised by an unexpected stampede as savvy folk left their cheap seats for better pickings. Virtually leading the charge was Justine.... It took a good few nervous twitches and fumbling in the dark before we spotted the younger generation holding down upgrades for their old aunts! WICKED proved to be a wonderfully frothy musical.

Our basic family room made a warm, comfortable and blissful dormitory for us despite a chorus of purring!

An excellent English breakfast sent us charging out the door ready to shop ‘til we dropped.... D R O P taken literally, when Holly promptly bowled herself over onto the ice in the middle of the road. By the end of the day she had added a few more dislocations to her spine and no doubt would require her chiropractor the moment she set foot back in Cape Town. We walked our feet off between glorious shops and galleries eventually limping our way to the Dinner and Theatre special we had picked up for £20 p.p. Our meal at The International was upmarket and excellent. The seats in The Coliseum were another story. Straight up and cramped – making it very uncomfortable for our weary bodies and long legs, it spoilt our enjoyment of The Snow Queen. We also came to the conclusion that programmes such as “So you think you can dance” both in Australia and England have raised the bar so high when it comes to imaginative dance that the choreography of this ballet was not quite as fulfilling. Although it was Holly and Talya last night, the oomph had been taken out of us all that we were only too happy to wend our way back to the tube and our beds.

Jesmond Dene Hotel kindly stored our luggage while we made the most of the remaining hours in London. Chilly winds with snow brewing made it difficult to enjoy being outdoors in Camden Markets and eventually we retreated into a restaurant for a last meal together before returning to the hotel to collect our luggage and subject ourselves to the misery of goodbyes as Holly and Talea departed for Heathrow and we headed home.

Despite the sadness of ‘when next will we be together’ we’d garnered many memories and Tom Yum garnished with groundnuts, helped perk us up.

We made a train change in Newark for Grimsby. Soon after stopping in Lincoln we became aware of a young girl with four tiny children in our carriage. We were all drawn to watching a four year old girl - not a day more, caring for two younger siblings, while her Mum saw to the baby. All were ill-equipped to cope with a wintry night let alone dressed for snow. It was a most sobering end to our trip, helping the pregnant mother by taking the pram, baby and three little mites off the train and across the rail lines only to watch them walk home across the ice, at a late hour for little mites. What a predicament. It haunted us and had us count our blessings, one by one.

We had but a few days to repack our bags while keeping an anxious eye on weather reports as we prepared for our twelve day jaunt around England in our little “noddy” car with Leecy. Heavy snowfalls were once again cutting off roads and isolating communities. Dan suggested we take his father’s 4X4 and armed us with emergency equipment. Hearts in mouths we hit the road, across to Wales. The Green Brute gave us a tremendous sense of security in a foggy land of white with snow banked up around us. Thanks to the invaluable help of Sat-Nav we were freed of navigational disputes and covered the journey to Hereford ahead of our schedule. We marked time in the warmth of a Tesco until Pippa returned from school. We spent two nights with her as the ties of friendship between our mothers cemented lasting childhood bonds between the Howman sisters, Pippa and her brother Charles.

Lea, Leecy & Pippa with “PD”, the deaf old dog who kept us entertained almost beyond sanity.... with toe-nails clicking on the wooden floors like castanets!

Moving south to Devizes we spent an amazing two nights in the servant quarters of “Broadleas“– Not below stairs but tucked away at the back of the mansion. Our bedroom with interconnecting doors overlooked a delightful walled fruit and vegetable garden within the magnificent estate of the Late Lady Anne Cowdray. Leecy’s friend from school days – Lesley arrived from Zimbabwe last year, to care for Lady Anne in what proved to be the final three months of her life. Lesley and her husband Peter have stayed on as a “presence” renting their section, while the Estate is wound up. We felt as if we had fallen into a Charlotte Bronte story in the likes of Jane Eyre. Overly narrow winding staircases, not only creaky but well worn over the centuries by staff feet, required special care in negotiating. The warren of inter-leading levels led down to the heart of the main house - the kitchen. From there, the grandeur of the main house symmetrically spread out. Lesley took us on a guided tour, beginning down in the cellars – a chilly plethora of rooms, recently cleared out sent our imaginations in riotous directions that Lea nipped up the steep wooden steps, turned off lights as she closed the door plunging the two friends into fearful darkness. This caused a major tour delay as Leecy and Les required a massive dose of calming fluid back in the kitchen.

Broadleas built in 1816 and extended from a 12 roomed house over the years until bought by Lady Cowdray in 1946. Over sixty years of love and enduring enthusiasm for her garden followed. In 1984 Lady Anne established a charitable trust with a view to maintaining and developing the garden for the benefit of the general public.

Lea was drawn to the recipe books and was fascinated to find the backs of envelopes listing Lady Anne’s favourite recipes and page numbers written in her own hand, within books she opened.
Equilibrium restored, we peeped into the many living rooms before ascending the sweeping staircase to find elegant bedrooms ready for guests, as if the beat of life hadn’t changed! In the “children’s wing” we could not only hear but feel the intense vibrations of a band in practice taking place below in the old schoolroom. Opening that door to a deafening intensity of sound, we found the Estate Horticulturist’s son and friends in oblivious Nevada...
It was the odd piece of paper attached to an item with a name scrawled upon it or boxes stacked within a room in unexpected disarray that signalled the sadness of a life no longer lived, as sentiments were sorted and a history packed away or sold.

Over thirty years since Leecy last saw Les so they had much to chat over. While George and Peter discovered they had much in common that beers were cracked and they talked themselves out very happily....

Leaving Leecy to enjoy reminiscing time with Les and Peter Grieve – we used Sat-Nav to take us to Bradford-on-Avon, where we caught up with Di and Theo Bingham. We first met them in Kariba when they were up from Bulawayo staying with Di’s sister, Jean Junor. Reacquainted in 1976 the Bingham, Junor and Begg families holidayed together in Port Alfred, our friendship strengthened and in time our Rhodesian fates had us all end up helping and supporting each other from homes in close proximity to each other in Durban North. It was good to find these two well settled and in fine fettle after torrid times in which both battled cancer. Our conversations raced in different directions throughout the day yet entrenched in our memory now lies Theo’s job as an odour detector in a company that analyses air quality. His mid seventy year old nose has become a valuable asset.

Theo and Di took us for a pub-lunch at ‘The Canal Inn’ overlooking locks, iced up water and narrow- boats that looked far from inviting in winter!

A close eye had to be kept on the clock to stay on schedule simply because it was extremely difficult to drag ourselves away from the pleasure of old friendships. Sat-Nav took us on to Devon and the little village of East Budleigh where the “voice” said we’d reached destination yet we could see no sign “Penlees”. Voice “recalculating” began irritating as we searched one narrow lane after another making manoeuvring in The Brute very tricky. And, just as George was about to throw toys out of his cot, the sign was spied, hidden in an overgrown hedge. Chez Cousin Roger! Decades have passed since we spent quality time with Roger and he took time off work to ensure this time round would be even better...

No sooner out of the car than we were tramping across fields, hills and dales of England’s ‘pleasant land’ to have a pub lunch in Otterton.

On foot, we were to enjoy many pleasurable hours with Roger as he explained or added snippets of history to an area he has spent a good part of his life in. Favourite galleries- one set within an old fashioned flour mills were added to the agenda and we also joined a large fraternity of twitchers in a bird hide on the Clyst estuary. Not sure which was the most interesting to observe - the water fowl or the twitchers? Taking Goats walk into the picturesque village of Topsham we found many inspiring views as prospective subjects for Leecy and George to paint – these set their cameras off, clicking madly!

Roger, a most knowledgeable hostelry man took us to dinner in Woodbury pub for our last night.

Sacrilege! Roger had Bananagrams! We were stunned to discover it was an unused Christmas present from a previous year. Despite the late hour we insisted on teaching him to play in retaliation for the tiny Q20 machine he’d introduced us to the previous evening, which had astounded us with its astuteness.

We took leave of Roger as soon as breakfast was over and made our way through rain and fog to have a quick hour in Yeovil with our friends Chris and Moira Carver (ex Kariba BSAP) before joining Cousin Nicholas and wife Sue Howman for lunch in their delightful ‘Old Mill’ home, in the little village of Queen Camel, just outside Yeovil. In the past when we have been near Yeovil we have always sprung a surprise on the Carvers, knocking on their door. This time round Lea had phoned and e-mailed our plans a week ahead... So much for that! On ringing the bell, Moira opened the door curiously puzzled followed by an expression of aghast, as the penny dropped. Chris had to be recalled home. As a result of this little upset we forgot to record the visit on camera.

Nick and Sue were ready and waiting! This fleeting visit wasn’t long enough... as we reluctantly dragged ourselves from wonderful old photo albums Nick pulled out, as we needed to reach Reading before dark.

The marvels of Sat-Nav had us pull into Tanners Farmhouse on the expected hour to find cousin Jeremy waiting to settle us into our rooms before his wife Heather arrived home from a day in London, minutes later. A master of organisation, Heather slipped into her natural role of hostess and our finely tuned two days slipped by effortlessly as we celebrated the engagements of their younger sons Tim and Nick; showed Keith’s film Honey Hunters of Niassa; walked dogs across the melting snow fields and talked and talked.

Jeremy & Heather Spencer with two, of the many relatives from all over the world, who gather in the comfort zone of Tanners Farmhouse.

Taking the M25 on the south side of London we turned up in time for lunch with our eldest English cousin Anthea in her snug little home in Whitstable. George, always wary of the icy Siberian winds that blow around here, happily turned to his computer while the women togged up and set off for a walking tour of Whitstable. History unfolded when our passionate, registered Blue Guide Anthea took Leecy and Lea on marvellous walkabouts of her little seaside village and nearby Canterbury. Yet, the absolute highlight of our visit with her turned out to be an arrangement she had made to briefly pop into Kent College where the three Bourdillon sons were practicing for a forthcoming gig! On checking we were in the right place, peeping through a glass panel in the door we promptly recognised Paul and Anton. Last seen at Justine and Dan’s wedding, with mother Jenny, when the three had performed the marimba based music for the church service. Recognizable was Jono although more years had passed since he’d been seen in his grandparent’s garden. The other unexpected face was strangely familiar and as soon as we were introduced to Trevor, Lea knew he was Cousin Penny Mill’s youngest son. Meeting Paul’s equally talented wife Karen for the first time completed the quintet. Although we soon picked up that Penny’s eldest son Martin is part of the band too. The next generation of Zimbabwean cousins, scattered around England working in their respective jobs yet coming together whenever they can to do what they do best - make music! We were absolutely enchanted and didn’t want them to ever stop but they needed a break. Amazing people giving us a very special experience.

Recording the joyous meeting with the band “Dhindhindi”
From left to right:- Lea, Anton, Jono, Anthea, Karen and George.
Leecy, Paul and Trevor in the foreground

On the homeward run we turned off to Norfolk, as Leecy had never been to the county of our ancestors and we were keen to show her the places where our parent’s ashes were scattered. We arrived in Southrepps over the lunch hour and decided to find a bite to eat in the local pub – only to find their kitchens closed. The inn-keeper sent us through to Northrepps where we found that little pub inundated with people. Never the less, a most obliging couple fitted us into a corner until we could be made more comfortable. As the clock moved round we decided we’d best have the roast of the day and find a B& B for the night rather than be pushed for time. Again, our hosts went out of their way to advise us of suitable accommodation and we finally settled on a Farm- Stay, a mere stones throw away which they kindly arranged - impressive service. Well into the afternoon, our fine lunch consumed, we made for Southrepps Hall and were somewhat stunned to find a row of cars parked outside the manor house. Hovering at the gateway wondering what to do next, the front door opened and an elderly figure beckon us down the driveway. We were somewhat startled to find a stranger and a priest meet us at the door but we were soon assured a luncheon party was almost over. Reluctant to intrude we decided to take Leecy on the walk down Southern Rhodesia Avenue and round to the replica Cecil Square Garden only to be summoned into the dining room. Leecy, overcome with emotion, was only too happy as we made a quick exit to catch the last of decent light, with promises to return for coffee.

Two sisters in a quiet moment of reflection, beside the tree planted for our pioneering grandfather EG Howman at the foot of which lie the headstones to the memory of our parents Roger and Stella. At last, all four daughters have visited this place of rest.

Shoes soaked through, feeling pretty chilled we happily returned for a coffee in Southrepps Hall with our dear most robust and hospitable Peter and the frail remnants of the vivacious Eve Sladden. She charmingly perked up for this photo when her husband aroused her with his pet name “Egglet”

We retraced the byways to Northrepps and easily found the really delightful B&B we had been booked into - “Shrublands”. What a wonderful place to totally relax and bring to an end, our jaunt around England, with Leecy. We begged a late lie-in and slept in deep comfort before arising to a marvellous breakfast – quite the finest any of us could recall from our days tripping around British B&B’s. With no pressure we set off for home going via Salle.

We introduced Leecy to Salle Church wherein lies the remains of Howman ancestors. Amongst whom, was Rev. Roger Howman, a rector here in 1637. We fittingly scattered the ashes of his name sake, our dad along with our mum, beneath the oak tree engulfed in a Holly bush on the far right of this photo and directly opposite the chancel inside which is Rev. Roger’s tombstone.

We end this blog on the 28 January as our wonderful six weeks with Leecy drew to a close. She returned to London for her flight back to Australia two days later. Before we put her on the train we had a birthday lunch for Lea in Val’s Café, Cleethorpes. Thankfully, little time to dwell on Lea’s new status as an OAP, as we busily prepared for a departure to France next day.