A Foggy Day with Mags

A heavy, dewy mist settled over Salisbury yesterday, obscuring the tower of the cathedral. It made for some interesting photos and an atmospheric walk through the "water meadows," a system of man-made channels surrounding pastures and farmland.

But I'm getting ahead of myself -- because before Dave and I took that walk, we had breakfast at our hotel. And just as we sat down to eat, who should show up but Margaret Thatcher! Again!

(Not the REAL Margaret Thatcher, obviously. See yesterday's post if you're confused.)

With impeccable hair and timing she appeared just as we were about to get food, and wound up talking to (at?) us for another half an hour, at least. This time we mostly steered clear of politics, thank God. We heard about innocuous subjects like breeds of chickens (which she knows from her family's farm) and extinct varieties of pheasant. (Ditto.) We heard more about her husband's CBE and her illustrious family.

The conversation was more pleasant than yesterday, but I still wanted her to go away.

Finally we stood, leashed up Olga and went back to our room to freshen up. Then we set out across a nearby park to get to the path into town through the water meadows.

We enjoyed the foggy morning, the sheep in the fields, the old mill beside the river and the dew-soaked spider webs on the bridge. And then Dave looked behind us, and who should be following but Mags! She was stalking us!

We tried to walk faster but she finally caught up with us -- "You can't get away from this crazy Welsh woman!" she said. I guess this time we gave off positively hostile vibes because she eventually kept walking, bound for communion at the cathedral.

After Mags departed we were able to relax once again. We wandered the park and found little knitted artworks decorating some of the benches, such as this tea set, complete with knitted cookies! (It was fastened to the bench with a subtly placed zip tie.)

We walked into town and settled into a Cafe Nero for coffee:

We found a prime window seat with wonderful people-watching opportunities. We got a kick out of listening to the ladies sitting beside Dave, who were complaining about the results of "Strictly Come Dancing" and making their own amusing comments about passing pedestrians. ("His mother loves him," they said about one man.)

Finally we collected our bags from our hotel, ate some take-out Thai food at an unpretentious pub near the train station, and caught our train back to London. Traveling went smoothly and we were home by about 4:30 p.m. I think Olga was happier to get home than any of us. She spent the entire evening asleep on the couch, under her pink blanket.