Friday photo

Pebble Angels

Although quite unplanned we found ourselves eating chips on the Kent coast today.

Just after Daughter and Friend made these pebble angels I had a 'phone call to say that two further years have been confirmed for us in Bangkok.

I like to think these propitious angels had something to do with it.

Pardon?

Yesterday I took my Dad to the hearing clinic to see about a hearing aid. There are still many pockets of Kent I don’t know and although I know many of the hospitals (my Dad is a retired doctor) I didn't know the one we needed - Preston Hall.

Before long I was instructed to turn left and immediately right into the entrance of Preston Hall. Just look at this fabulous building:

And of course Dad knew a bit about its history too and how it came into the hands of the National Health Service.

He told me that the owner, a railway magnate had boasted that he owned everything he could see from the hall. My research suggests that the father, Thomas Brassey was the railway magnate and that he bought Preston Hall for his second son Henry Arthur Brassey sometime after 1850. Much of the original property dates back to the 12^th century and the reign of King John when it remained in the Culpeper family.

Later owners let the Hall to the Red Cross during the First World War for use as a convalescent home for servicemen with TB and then the British Legion took over in 1925 followed by the NHS in 1948. A village was built in the area around it to provide homes and workshops for the convalescing men. One famous patient was George Orwell who received treatment at Preston Hall between 15 March - 1 September 1938.

Feeding time all the time

I’m a very bad blogger when I’m in the UK. Husband (still in Bangkok) has complained.

Mostly I have been sous chef to my father and my sister. The problem with having lots of people in the house (we are ten if everyone is home) is that as soon as one meal is finished you have to start thinking about the next one. Staples such as milk and bread have to be closely monitored. We have to contend with vegetarians, pescetarians, carnivores, wheat intolerances, strawberry allergies and diabetics as well as the usual childhood likes and dislikes.

The table is in a constant state of rotation: clearing or laying. The cats don’t help. Peanut is pictured, holding court over the table. He's lovely as long as you don't try to touch his tummy, or in fact, do anything he doesn't want you to do. See those demon eyes?

Quintessentially English

After Pimms, a BBQ and a late night yesterday I've found myself on English time very quickly.

Today we went to a summer fete.

There were strawberries, Victoria sponges, face painting, a BBQ, a tombola, a welly wanging competition, Pimms and beer, live music, country dancing, singing, fish a duck, raffles, decorate a cookie, bouncy castles and lots more.

My sister was on the face painting stall which meant for the second year running, so was I.

Friday Photo from Kent, England

The view from my window

When I woke up this morning this was the view from my window.

We were still a thousand kilometres from London's Heathrow airport but outside was a dreamy, other worldly landscape: a fitting sort of inbetweenyness.

So we're home now; our other home.