Bookeys, Bloodymindedness, and Blenheim
Back in England, I am!
Bookeys,
Bloodymindedness, and Blenheim
On
Tuesday I met up with the Bernard and Beryl combo and we drove to Blenheim, a
magnificent and overdone yellow stone palace built by the Duke of Marlborough.
Queen Anne and Parliament gave the Duke much acreage and money and said, "build
yourself a suitable house." It's quite a place, but everything was a la carte.
Want to see the Duke's private residence, "only possible today?" Four pounds, on
top of the 8.50 pounds paid at the gate. They force you to exit through a gift
shop. There are also the Pleasure Gardens, also extra. The Duke and Duchess
pretty ancient, and the photo says it all. It's circa 1974. Big hair, Burbury
jacket, etc. It's something of a fashion nightmare and a drag queen's
dream.
Bernard is a determined fellow
(fairly bloodyminded, actually), and insisted we visit a pub in Noke. Noke is a
town that is basically a road lined by 12 houses and a church at the end of the
road. There was no pub, and no one in sight. It's hard to feel like you've
invaded when the entire town has gone to work for the day. We turned the car
around and invaded another pub, where the Bookeys outnumbered the pubmaster 3 to
1.
After that, we went to Oxford, which
was also overrun by tourists of many nations. After walking around a bit,
Bernard and I returned to the car park to find Beryl. It started raining,
finally. We visited my cousin and her two children. Daniel refrained from
pointing out how fat I am, calling me burly, or asking me why I don't have
children. I couldn't very well tell him, "Because no bloke'll have me, sweetie."
But I got through the visit without interrogation, although imparting the notion
of America to a four-year-old boy in a London suburb was not easy. We got into
the "yes, the Earth is round" thing. Galileo
Bookey.
Bernard told me that the younger
one recently approached a woman on the street who was wearing a tres chic black
rubber raincoat and told her, "You're lucky. Your bin liner's got
pockets!"
While the boys finally wound
down from trying to do each other in with hula hoops, we three Bookeys left and
returned to Radlett for dinner. Beryl cut me some flowers from her garden to
bring to Lindsay. I had never seen lavender before (now that's rich irony), and
Bernard said, "Lad, you are divorced from
nature!"
Well of course I am. I'm a
native New Yorker. I was born here. I live here. And there's an excellent chance
I will be found dead here.
Posted: Tue - July 13, 1999 at 02:49 AM