More Adventures in England

Swaffham is an historic market town with an active weekenl outdoor market. The Peddars Way sign designates the 2,000 yer old Roman Road, a footpath connecting area towns which travelers and peddlers used. Now it is part of the National Trail System network for horses, walkers and cyclists. A town-to-town walk on these footpaths is in our plans. As Bob described it, a pub-to-pub walk sounds more accurate (and attractive).

Perhaps the most interesting bit of history relates to my family. The man depicted in the Swaffham sign (photo above) is named John Chapman. He was a local business man who supposedly found buried treasure in his garden and used the money to build part of the town church in the 1500s. My grandfather was named Clyde Chapman, a descendant of the John Chapman who was Johnny Appleseed in the US. I wonder how close the connection is between the Chapman families?


Swaffham has a terrific little gym, which we hope survives the onslaught of Bob. It is in an old converted barn. When I say old, I mean a few hundred years. Check out the ceiling beams.

The low ceiling beams are generously wrapped in foam and provide a home for displaced primates. Bob feels right at home here. He bought a month's membership immediately.

We had lunch at The George Hotel and Pub and watched a car pull up at the the light. Do you recognize (recognise) the contraption on the roof of the car (above)? I didn't either, until Bob noticed the Google sticker on the car. We surmised this is how Google Maps gets their "street view" shots on Google Maps online. Did you know a photo of your house might be online on Google Maps Streetview? Be careful about nude gardening.


After lunch we walked over to visit Win's older sister, Rene. She's a young 83 and her husband, Jack is 84. Rene apologized for her garden being "completely gone". As the photo above shows, she has a different set of standards. I'd say it has a bit of life left in it.

The next day I attended my first professional soccer game. Luton (Bob's home team) vs Tamworth (a small town south of Luton). In brief, Luton had been in the premier league until this year, but atrocious losses resulting in their relegation to the next lower league, much to the shame of Lutonites.
Happily the team won today in spite of poor playing. It was a bittersweet victory to Bob since they have fallen so low. I enjoyed trying to decipher what the fans were singing. They sang well, loudly and cleverly. I only caught ever tenth word, which sounds the same in every language.

Before the game I was so hungry I didn't have time to photograph my curried vegetable lunch at the Rising Sun pub south of Luton. It was perfectly spicy and disappeared way too fast.

See the tap on the left? That was a good half pint of Wells Bombardier I had with lunch.

I've seen a lot of these signs outside pubs fo Greene King, a brewery in this region. This sign is on the outside Three Tuns pub in Ashwell. Of course, Bob knew what a "tun" is. Do you?

Bob has educated me about how to select a good pub. Evidently many of the pubs have been purchased by big companies such as Pubmaster. A Pubmaster sign means that pub is right out. Not acceptable. Another unacceptable indicator is a listing of foreign beers such as Stella Artois. I'm learning. Slowly.

This thatched roof is in Ashwell. Thatched roofs are more common in Devon, where I visited last trip to England. The roof seems unfinished because one end of ridgecap looks as though it needs thatching. It also needs to be covered in netting to keep birds from nesting and to keep the thatch in place.

The Three Tuns in Ashwell.

A terrific dinner of a baked potato, baked beans and veg (the locals don't say "vegetables". It cost 4.95 (British Pounds), What a deal! Paired with cider AND a half pint of ale, much to the horror of the bar maid and Bob. Faux pas number one. My next post will have an even greater faux pas.

England, October 2009

I landed at Heathrow at noon, unrested and hungry. Bob Palin, my "significant other" (what a horrid title for someone who is practically family) had made all the arrangements for this trip.... car, airlines, logistics.


The fact that United Airlines cancelled our direct flight shortly after we booked it didn't lighten Bob's mood. Neither did their refusal to change the booking from inconvenient Denver (the recently departed departure point) to Salt Lake City.... the airline also made check-in a fiasco. I couldn't resist snapping a shot of the grump in character. He claims to be just " messing around" in this photo.


Our trip is for his mum who is turning 80 next week. She has planned the whole party for 60 guests herself, right down to buying the cases of wine, writing and mailing the invitations, choosing the flowers and booking the venue. She has an impressive energetic style about her, which would wear most people out.

This is my second trip to England, this time with a native. It's going to be the trip of a lifetime. I plan to write a magazine article covering my quest to find a place that meets the "Janet test". A pub with authentic ambience, excellent dark locally brewed stout and fabulous vegetarian food. It's a quest.



We launched out of the airport carpark on the wrong side of the road with Bob behind the wheel of a puke green Ford Fiesta. He skillfully whisked us toward Swaffham onto the M25, direction of "The North", a dual carriageway. How British.


But first, we made a quick stop in Luton to see Bob's childhood home. I snapped a shot out the window as Bob cast a brief glance at number 13 Saint Luke's Close. He sped around the cul-de-sac and drove on. Did I miss something or is that considered a visit?

I have to admit I didn't complain much because it was way past lunchtime and I needed to start my quest for the ultimate vegetarian pub experience immediately. Bob knew just the place.

The Millstream Pub in Hitchin is a classic country pub. Classy, but old. Clean but full of character. Not fancied up too much. A selection of ales and porters on tap, and a chalkboard covered wth today's specials hovered over the bar. Jessica the barmaid took our order and served us promptly. I opted for the locally-brewed McMullan AK ale, a dark amber, slightly sweet beer. Paired with a black bean burger, hot English mustard and a perfect baked potato (jacketed) the entire experience cast a shadow of suspicion on my quest. Had I already found the perfect pub experience? Was my quest going to be so simple it would cease to be a quest at all?


The exterior of Millstream was nothing special, lending credence to the authenticity of the place. I can't say I've ever had a better black bean burger. Crisp on the outside, but not charred, served on a flour "bap" which is a soft white roll. Nothing exists quite like it in the US. "What's a bap?" I asked Bob, after I scanned the menu. He must have considered the question inane. "It's white, always." The rest I figured out myself, once the burger and bap were in front of me. Bob is helping me become smarter that way.

Down the street was a more photogenic pub. No time to stop.
On the way to Swaffham we passed dozens of pubs, all beckoning to me, like the Castle Anthrax in Monty Python's Holy Grail. Sometime in the next three weeks, I imagine I'll find a reason to complain about British food.... but so far I'm embarrassed about the general quality of US restaurants. Thank goodness my niece is going to the Culinary Institute of America. She needs to come to England before she graduates and get a taste of this incredibly underappreciated culinary experience. Cheers!