THE FINAL DAYS

September 3, Monday

We took the 10:30 local bus into Bury again, and walked through town to Syd and Marian's house. Syd had the computer all set up for shows. Marian made a spot of tea, and we all sat together and looked at photos of Syd's trip to South Africa in August. He left for Africa the day we and our kids left Bury for Cornwall. It's always fun to take a vicarious trip somewhere and since he and Marian had been to South Africa several times, they could give us background beyond what the photos showed.

After the picture show we put on our jackets and strolled down the street and around the corner to the Rose and Crown pub. We'd never been there before, didn't even know it existed. It was a quaint little old-fashioned neighborhood pub, small and intimate. There we enjoyed a relaxing lunch together.

A very old man sat at a table next to the bar, all alone, and sipped a brandy. He listened to us, and every now and then he'd interject a comment. He was ninety-nine years old, he told us. Did we think he'd make one hundred? He had another brandy; we entertained him so much. He had been alone in the pub when we came in. Apparently he came to the pub every day, sat for a while, had his brandy, and socialized.

On our way back to Syd and Marian's home, we stopped into a wine merchant's shop, Peatlings. The ground floor store had wines, wine glasses, and other merchandise relating to wine. We wandered around, and Marian told me that you could rent wine glasses from Peatlings. She had done so on occasion. I never heard of that, but what a help that would be! Syd went down the stairs to the basement cellars, and one by one, we all straggled down after him. The cellars were such fun! There were wooden cases of wines stacked in rows. There were elaborate and expensive gift boxes of special wines. There was a small arched cubicle with a barred gate on it. The bottles racked behind that gate were covered with dust and bore price tags that made my eyes water. I took a picture. That's the closest I'd ever get to wine of that class.

Back at the Rutlands, we gathered around the computer again. This time we relived and relaughed a trip the four of had made together in 2003. We had rented an apartment together in Florence, Italy, that summer, under the Tuscan sun. We delved into the arts and lived on wine, olives, cheese, and daily fresh bread for a week.

Then it was time to say good-bye. They took us back to Sandlappers in Tostock. We watched their red car disappear down the road. Who knows when we'll see each other again.

We climbed the stairs to “our” room at Sandlappers, did some packing, and freshened up. Margaret and Lionel were freshened up, too, and we four set out for an evening. We had thought to go back to the pub in Hesset, but then Margaret suggested the Pykkerell Inn in Ixworth. It was a good choice.

There was an ancient fireplace next to the bar with horse brasses along the timber mantel and a stuffed deer head above. One of the dining rooms I peeked into looked like the library. The walls were lined with wooden shelves full of books. We were seated next to an old wall oven. A line of copper saucepans hung above. The warm woods and traditional furniture made for what I call, “homey elegance.” We had white linen on our table and a smiling lady to serve us.

The food was good and the company was good. We joshed and told stories, laughed and chatted the hours away. But we did have to watch the time, as we had a date back in Tostock.

The Tostock History Society was meeting that night, and the speaker was going to talk about airbases in Suffolk during World War Two. Bob and I always enjoy joining in on local events. Jean, the Church Warden, also led this meeting. She was a busy lady. We and Lionel were a bit disappointed in the speaker; it wasn't what we had expected. Bob and I enjoyed meeting and talking to the local folk, anyway.

The rest of the evening was spent in the family room watching TV, reading the papers, and chatting with Margaret and Lionel. We had spent most of our evenings at Sandlappers that way, homelike and relaxed.

September 4, Tuesday

Tuesday morning we were faced with another good-bye to good friends. Perhaps I should say “au revoir,” instead. We invite all our British friends to Florida, and some of them have taken us up on it and come over for a visit.

After breakfast we climbed into Lionel's car in the front drive of Sandlappers, and left Tostock for Bury St. Edmunds and points west.

We took a National Express coach for our last six-hour ride from Bury St. Edmunds back to Manchester and Moss Deepings Bed and Breakfast. Greg Banks of Moss Deepings picked us up at the airport as usual. We spent the evening going through our luggage one more time, discarding clothes, maps, and brochures we would no longer need. We had to work into our luggage a bag of books and souvenirs we had left at Moss Deeping in July when we came back to the B&B to meet Lisa and Gordy's flight.

September 5, Wednesday

Low clouds covered the sky when we walked into the village of Bramhall from Moss Deeping to run last-minute errands and have some lunch. It had rained all during breakfast and half the morning. I wrote Postcards on the computer, and Bob read until the rain let up.

We went back to the little café where we had eaten when in Manchester in June. I had got some wonderful home made soup in June. There was no soup that day. So we each had a pannini, which was good, too. We did our errands, can't remember what they were, now, but we were busy right up until four in the afternoon, tea time.

When we were in England some years ago, we met and visited the son, Tim Miller, of one of our English friends, Tim's wife Gill and daughters Jenna and Rachel. They live in a Manchester suburb within walking distance of Moss Deepings. It was they, in fact, who found Moss Deepings for us. We had hoped to spend an evening with them this trip, but the timing was wrong. Tim had to be out of town and the others were busy.

However, Gill and Jenna met us after school at a coffee house in Bramhall. We sat there and chatted for almost two hours, catching up on the years and the family, until they had to leave for Jenna's dance lessons. It was great to have at least made contact with them, and to see them again.

We had a tea in our room for supper, read a bit, and climbed into bed.

September 6, Thursday.

The Banks set out an early breakfast for us, then Greg took us to the airport.

We flew with Virgin Air, the British airline. If nothing else, Virgin feeds you well. It was an eight-hour flight from Manchester, England, to Orlando, Florida. Shortly after getting on the plane, we were served pretzels and a choice of drink, including wine.

A couple of hours later we got our main meal of the day. I ordered a vegetarian casserole, and Bob had chicken tikka. We also were given pasta salad with feta cheese, a roll, chocolate pudding, a bottle of water and a glass of wine, crackers and cheese. A true English dinner.

In mid-afternoon, so to speak, we had an ice cream bar. Time is relative when you're going backwards five hours.

Then, before we landed, we had a light supper of a sandwich, a big cookie, and coffee or tea.

With our dinner wine, we turned to what we thought was the east, raised our glasses of wine, and toasted a merry summer in Merrie Olde Greate Britaine.