More news from the jet-setting, high rolling, limelit existence of your friendly host - Lord Pudding of Holderness.
Yesterday, the silver South Korean chariot Sir Clint kindly carried Lord and Lady Pudding eastward - along the M180 motorway before cutting south on the A18 towards Louth - beyond The Lincolnshire Wolds.
It was a perfect day. Crystal clear beneath a blue canopy and at Shepherd's Crook Farm near Covenham Reservoir we met old friends Tony and Pauline where they had set up their caravan (American: trailer) for the weekend. In celebration of our arrival Tony prepared a fine brunch of bacon, eggs and mushrooms with the obligatory English breakfast tea.
Naturally I boasted about my yacht, my stocks and shares, the racehorses I have just purchased from Saudi Arabia and my intention to replace Clint with a banana-coloured Lamborghini. When Tony and Pauline began yawning with jealousy. I knew it was time to set off on our country walk.
Down by the side of The Louth Canal to Austen Fen and then across to Covenham St Mary and its sister village Covenham St Bartholomew before taking a look at the blue waters of a mini-Pacific Ocean - Covenham Reservoir.
The other three were utterly knackered by the time we got back to the caravan though I remained as strong as an ox and as fresh as a daisy. I could have easily walked another six miles. We had only been plodding for three hours.
After dousing him with a bucket of canal water, I instructed Young Tony to prepare a barbecue meal of pork loins, kebabs and sausages with green salad, coleslaw, French bread, tomatoes and suchlike. I checked the wine list but there was nothing that appealed to me and besides - at just after seven o'clock I knew that I would be steering Sir Clint back to our luxurious home - Sheffield Castle which stands proudly on a suburban hill overlooking the humble dwelling houses of the peasantry.
It had been a grand day out in unfamiliar territory with familiar friends. And this morning, as I survey my realm from the west turret, I realise that I caught the sun in spite of the factor 30 cream I applied. My legal team have already been informed.
A good day out indeed. The sort of thing we Island dwellers just can't do. Not, please understand, that I'm complaining.
ReplyDeleteAre you from the Isle of Lewis
DeleteOr is it the hills of Harris?
Are you from the North of Uist
Or is it the Isle of Skye?
Are you from the Isle of Barra, Eigg, Muck, Rhum or Canna?
Are you from the rocky waters of the Hebrides?
Oh, this is my island
Oh, this is my island
From the Port of Nis right through the Minch until the end of time
Oh, this is my island
Oh, this is my island
We feed the sheep and cut the peats until the day we die.
You are in a very poetic frame of mind today, YP.
DeleteOh yes! That was a Bute.
DeleteYou made me laugh this morning Mr. Pudding and I thank you for that. The photos are lovely but it's your humbleness that I most appreciate.
ReplyDeleteI prefer to call it humility you little pixie!
DeleteYour end-of-May post is like a green book from long ago:
ReplyDeleteBevis by Richard Jefferies, or Swallows and Amazons, or Wind in the Willows.
There is even a feast. Sausages and green salad. Years since I ate sausages !
I like the idea of Covenham St. Mary and its sister village, Covenham Bartholomew.
In Scotland we don't have sister villages, our loss.
The Navigation Warehouse on Louth Canal would have been operational in the 1920s.
I can imagine a girl or boy whose father navigated those canal barges.
Austen Fen and the Lincolnshire Wolds are the stuff of poetry.
Christina Rossetti, Walter de la Mare, John Masefield, Eleanor Farjeon ...
I wish children read them today.
Haggerty
Books are overrated. Kids get all they need from their smartphones and favoured websites. This is not the nineteenth century you know Great Uncle John!
DeleteIf you ever come visit me, Mr. P., we shall take a stroll to Apalachicola. It should only take us a few days.
ReplyDeleteThat would be nice but I would need Glen's permission to escort you.
DeleteSuper photos YP.
ReplyDeleteThanks Dave.
DeleteThat sounds like a fun time with friends! I like the sound of "caravan", it's nicer than "trailer". The food sounds great, too!
ReplyDeleteTo us a trailer is normally something that a tractor would pull on a farm - carrying bales of straw or hundreds of turnips for example.
DeleteNow here, something that you pull with a tractor is called a wagon. This is actually pretty fascinating, these small differences. What do you call the boxes you hook up to big semi trucks to be pulled down the road? We call those trailers too.
DeleteBooks overrated, ye say? Begob, I wasted me life Sir.
ReplyDeleteI used to spook my big brother. *Our day is done,* I'd say.
At Art School he read a ton: Koestler, Camus, Spengler, De Beauvoir, Joyce.
Then he went to the National Film School in Beaconsfield.
Only indie films really interested him: Hollywood just did *products*.
He would have rushed to see the film by your son's partner.
His widow is still alive, in Los Angeles, she was a film editor.
Haggerty
Old Man, Soon History.
The Haggerty clan were/are a gifted lot! Is there a Haggerty tartan? Possibly in a mixture of red (anger) and green (envy) with black lines running through.
DeleteWell you are evidently in good spirits this morning, YP! Looks like a great outing. And for once, Clint didn't complain! At least not audibly.
ReplyDeleteGood spirits? Blame the cocaine we snorted at the barbecue. Clint snorted some too.
DeleteAs usual excellent photos, YP, but don't let all this praise go to your head! We rely on you, and your humble ways, to keep us all firmly anchored to the ground! It's your "tell it as it is" gritty dialogues that we really appreciate - the reason we eagerly log on to your blog each day.
ReplyDeleteSheffield Castle? Is that the one next to the abattoir? Sir Clint? - oh no! - now you've really given him ideas above his humble South Korean origins. Only yourself to blame when he throws the next hissy fit.
Thanks for keeping me grounded CG. To tell you the truth I am fed up of calling you CG, so if you do not tell me your real first name I am going to call you Dolly from now on - after Dolly Parton.
DeleteWell YP, I'm certainly not a Dolly - I don't have the big hair, or er.... any of the other big attributes Miss Parton has, and I can't sing! My name is Carol.
DeleteOkay - Carol it is then. Hello!
DeleteHere, it looks as if summer is just around the corner, with a promise of frequent barbeques, bottles of rosé wine and late night G&Ts on O.K.‘s balcony under star-studded skies.
ReplyDeleteYour outing sounds like it had it all - beautiful countryside, a good walk, excellent food and most importantly, good friends for company.
Many days are ordinary but this was indeed a special one Meike.
Deletelol
ReplyDeleteGlad you had a nice time :)
And I am glad you took some amusement from this Jenny.
DeleteWhat a lovely day you had with friends and Clint. The dappled sun in the graveyard where Pauline sits on a bench is just lovely. Do those wind turbines sit in the water or are they on land?
ReplyDeleteThey are on land Donna and I am pleased you liked the picture of Pauline. I am going to make a print of it for her.
DeleteI really need to get out and explore this beautiful county further.
ReplyDeleteWith Kat leading the way on her bike you will see most of Lincolnshire in an afternoon.
DeleteNow this was good for a giggle!
ReplyDeleteNot to go all out Ursula on you, but I will point out an error. Caravan = camper. A trailer is a home on wheels that is pulled into a place and generally left for years until it begins to fall apart. Then it is hauled out and a new trailer pulled in to replace it. A trailer is mobile, but only as far as pulling it from one site to another where it is installed for long term living.
Thanks for the explanation Ursula...err, I mean Debby.
DeleteFor some inexplicable reason, I suddenly find I can leave comments on blogs once more, so here goes. (BTW this comment does not relate to the above post: it is about something entirely different). On the radio a couple of days ago, I heard an interview with an English Literature teacher. It reminded me of you. He is Brendan James Murray and he has just published a book entitled "The School". (Picador Australia). Check it out. I think you might like it.
ReplyDeleteWell thanks for that tip Margaret. Glad that you are no longer barred by Blogger! You must have used some salty language!
DeleteWell you all feasted well on this lovely day. Happy days.
ReplyDeleteEat drink and be merry - though I could not get too merry as I was driving home.
DeleteVery clever post!
ReplyDelete