call just to hear you breathe

The backyard of the estate

I don't remember the last time I had a proper vacation where I wasn't necessarily obliged to do anything.  This might actually be the first.  Tom's family has been gracious and extremely welcoming and I am in a great debt to them.  Our manor/castle/vacation estate is located very close to Wales, but still resides in England.  It is absolutely beautiful.  So much so that I am not even going to attempt to describe it here.  I would not do it justice.

The kitchen holds an old-timey hob/oven called an Aga.  It is distinctly British, although it is rare to find one still in use.  Rob, Tom's dad, asked me if I had ever heard of it before.  I said that I would have to take a picture to even describe it.  The appliance is constantly on and burns oil to stay hot.  There are two hobs, one hotter than the other, that have lids to close when not in use.  The roasting oven did a good job cooking the christmas turkey.  As a funny side note, Tony Blair came under fire for attempting to "write off" an Aga service as a work related expense.

 La-Z-Boy

I have yet to experience such a thing called a meat raffle, but Rob and Sue assures me that they exist.  I don't think they are as common as they once were. To my understanding, one is expected to spend some time on a Friday evening at the local pub socializing with neighbors and colleagues.  At some point during the evening a raffle is held for the prized meat.  Should you be lucky enough to win, you have the honor of taking home the Sunday joint.  As Rob put it, "This country used to know how to live..."

Thumbs up for wet feet

  Sometimes I tire of the "capital city" tours.  When traveling Europe, it is very easy to get sucked into the convenience of tourist infrastructure which only large cities can provide.  Hereforeshire is not a large city.
While in Hereford we stumbled into an amazingly stereotypical British lounge for lunch.  If you were to ask an American to describe a typical English dining scenario, it would be very similar to the Green Dragon Inn.  It was a very stuffy drawing room populated by a crotchety old woman spewing tea on herself, a man in a matching green tweed suit making indistinguishable comments and a cranky group that contained a member with the most boisterous (and annoying) British laughs I have ever heard.  Even my adoptive English family commented on the hilarity of the situation.  It was so surreal I looked for hidden cameras.