A mammoth undertaking

As I mentioned on Sunday, Gillian’s sister (J) and her boyfriend (P) came to visit this weekend. We had a fairly quiet Saturday, and in the evening I cooked a chicken Véronique with locally grown asparagus, which was delicious. It’s a very light, summery dish that I’ve grown quite fond of. The grapes soften and cool the sauce, but provide some interesting texture.

J+P had to go home the following day, so we decided to travel separately to a local stately home, Croome Court. It has only recently been opened to visitors, although its Park has been open for quite a few years now, and we’re fairly familiar with it. We arrived in time to take a leisurely, but direct, stroll from the entrance to the Court itself, which we looked around before lunch. Before it was acquired by the National Trust it was owned by the Hare Krishna organisation, who had painted the plaster mouldings in one of the rooms in bright colours. They had picked out every fruit and leaf in different colours, and the whole effect was really quite garish.

We carried on around the house and looked at the other rooms that were open on the ground floor. The most imposing was the Gallery, which seemed even grander because it was empty of all furniture. In fact, the whole house was presented without any furniture at all, not even period furniture, which is quite unusual for a National Trust property. I quite liked the effect, as it allowed me to see the rooms more easily for their own intrinisic merits. For example, I liked the eagle on one of the mantlepieces.

We were also able to see the basements, and the remains of the time when the house had been used as a boys Catholic school. There was a small display showing the nuns teaching, and the lockers where the boys’ kit had been stored were still in situ.

After we finished looking around the house, we found a little tent outside it, where they were selling rather good freshly made sandwiches and flapjacks, which made finding lunch easy and and eating it tasty. It was definitely getting cold, as the wind was really quite strong, so I was glad I brought my sweater with me. We didn’t linger over lunch, so that we could carry on walking and get warm. The wind provided some moments of hilarity, at least for the others if not for me, as it kept blowing my hat off whenever I tried to take a photo. I couldn’t fit the camera under the brim without lifting the hat off my head, which made its fit much less secure. I lost it more than a few times, luckily never in the river along which we walked after we left the house.

We made our way the long way, past a fake Greek pavilion and a grotto, to the Temple Greenhouse, beyond which we could see the Malvern Hills.

From there we walked back through a shrubbery towards the church, which was also built at the time the grounds were laid out. This picture was taken, however, from the path to the Court rather than the path through the shrubbery.

J+P left at that point, in order to visit another stately home on their way back to London, and we returned home to await the visit of another of Gillian’s friends, who brought her two newborn twins to visit.

Rather than sit inside on such a lovely day, we drove into Malvern town centre, and walked around the local park, eventually stopping for an ice cream and to listen to the brass band playing in the bandstand. That was quite fun, and I was impressed with how beautifully the two babies slept through all the new and different sensations. I was grateful too, as I know very little about dealing with babies, and have no inclination to learn.

The babies did eventually wake up hungry, so they were taken home and we drove, very tired, back to our own home for a quick evening meal and an early night.

The following day was a Bank Holiday, but Gillian was determined not to let me rest, no matter how  busy a time we had had the previous two days. She says that she wanted me to explore my limits before we go on holiday next week. We drove for about 45 minutes to a local Welsh Borders castle called Goodrich. We’ve been visiting it for many years now, ever since Gillian was learning to drive, so I didn’t feel the need to go up every staircase and down into every cellar. Gillian was determined to miss nothing, so clambered to the top of the keep, up the darkest and narrowest staircase in the place. She looked a little wobbly once she came back down again, so I was glad I had declined. Moreover, she complains of a sore leg every time she sits down or gets up again today, confirming me in my decision. I have no sympathy… after all, she was the one who said that we should explore our limits. In fact, I think both of us exceeded them this weekend, as we could hardly keep our eyes open yesterday evening, and I spent most of the evening flat on my back, having returned to the sofa to rest. Everything has turned out OK today, apart from Gillian’s aching legs, so I guess it was a good idea to have pushed ourselves as hard as we did. I think we’ll probably be worked harder than that next week, and we need to be ready.

All in all it was a good weekend, if hard work. That I was able to do as much as I did is testament to how much better I am now that the chemotherapy is over.