Bray

We survived our odyssey to Bray, via tube, train and taxi. Olga coped well except for the cab, when she had to ride in the "wayback" (as we used to call it when riding in station wagons as kids) and she didn't like that very much. She wanted to sit with us in the back seat.

We're staying in a little house called Clematis Cottage, which is just steps from the Thames. We have a view of both the river and the fancy Waterside Inn, where we stayed the last time we were here, from our upstairs bedroom window.

In keeping with the clematis theme, the inside of the cottage is decorated in shades of purple, with gilded wall sconces, fluffy rugs and velvety furnishings. It may sound like a bordello but it doesn't come across that way at all. It's surprisingly nice. There's even a little Christmas tree, precariously perched on an end table. (It barely fits.)

We have a butler, though he can't seem to hold my drink level. I think maybe he's been imbibing himself. Jeeves!

Our hosts provided us with complimentary gin! Two kinds!

And there is indeed a functioning fireplace, which Olga loves.

Here's the downside -- the staircase. It is incredibly steep and the treads are very narrow. We have to help Olga both up and down it, and last night when we went to dinner we closed the inside door to keep her in the living room so she wouldn't attempt it by herself. All I need is an elderly dog falling down the stairs.

There are also no mugs in the kitchen -- only tiny, thin, delicate little cups that hold about two-thirds of an ounce. They do not work for my morning coffee. This morning I'm drinking it out of a bowl, French-style.

Dave posted to Facebook that we were staying here, and in doing so he misspelled clematis as "clamatis," which reminded me of Clamato, that clam juice/tomato drink often seen on store shelves in the states. So now we call our dwelling place Clamato Cottage.

In the afternoon Olga and I followed some walking trails which led out of the village to a nearby wilderness park. Maybe we'll explore it more today. There's a path along the Thames, too, but it's on the other side of the river, and darned if I can figure out how to get over there without swimming.

We also walked through the St. Michael's churchyard, where the "Buglins at Bray" insect hotel still exists! When I blogged about it more than seven years ago it was brand new. It has now settled into the landscape and I'm guessing it contains more bugs than ever. (But I didn't look closely.)

The Buglins name, incidentally, must be a play on Butlin's, a well-known chain of British holiday resorts. I don't think I knew that when I first saw it.

This is where Dave and I had dinner last night -- The Hind's Head, part of chef Heston Blumenthal's collection of restaurants. We both started with green pea soup, followed by a delicious halibut main course for me and oxtail & kidney pudding for Dave. A non-traditional Thanksgiving meal, but a satisfying one! The servers, detecting our accents, were careful to wish us a Happy Thanksgiving, even though it is not a thing here in England.

The village of Bray contains at least three Michelin-starred restaurants and there are others in nearby communities, so it's the perfect place for someone with Dave's culinary expertise and training. (He's a graduate of the French Culinary Institute in New York, a fact I don't mention much here anymore, now that we have devoted our lives to educating middle- and high-schoolers.)

We had clear skies and a pink sunset yesterday evening, but I think our weather is supposed to become less ideal today.