Duck Your Nut

I got up yesterday feeling strangely hungry, considering the elaborate meal we'd had the night before. I guess with tasting menus, though, you don't necessarily get a significant quantity of food. Everything is artfully prepared down to the tiniest morsel, but some of the courses are only a tiny morsel. In other words, calorically, I was at a deficit.

Dave took care of that by cooking up an English breakfast using the supplies that came with our cottage.

We had beans, eggs, bacon, sliced tomatoes and buttered toast with jam. Olga watched from the couch, eagerly awaiting her own piece of morning bacon.

See how low that doorway is? "Duck your nut" indeed! (In the photo it looks like "youre," which would obviously be grammatically incorrect, but that last e is actually just a flourish on the lettering -- not an e at all.)

After breakfast and some reading, Olga and I set out on a walk. We headed through town (top photo) to Braywick Park, where we went almost exactly three years ago.

To get there, we walked a long, raised sidewalk called The Causeway, through pastures and over a bridge across The Cut, a canal. Olga watched the squirrels intently, chasing them in her imagination.

The bridge was made by Tubewrights Ltd. of Newport, Monmouthshire (Wales). I've found an identical bridge in London. I guess pedestrian bridges were a Tubewrights specialty.

I wasn't sure how far Olga would want (or be able) to go, but we got to the park and walked part of its interior loop. Eventually I turned around and took her home again and she did not protest. It was a healthy walk for the old girl.

I, however, felt like I still needed some exercise. Walking Olga these days is just a slow amble. So after dropping her back at the cottage I set out myself for a longer, brisker walk around the park and some nearby neighborhoods. I came across a wedding at St. Michael's Church, and although I didn't linger it was fun to see the bride and groom emerge from the church, to be greeted by all the well-dressed guests.

Then I settled in with some New Yorkers and read until dinner, when Dave and I went to the Hind's Head, the pub that is attached to our cottage. It's also run by Heston Blumenthal, the chef at The Fat Duck, but its style is more casual and traditionally pub-like. A gastropub, I guess. I had fish pie and took it easy on the alcohol.

One downside of this cottage, like Clamato Cottage a few years ago, is the staircase. This one isn't as steep as Clamato's, but Olga is older and frailer, and reluctant to go up and down stairs. (And I'm reluctant to allow her to try.) So I carry her up to bed and then down again in the morning.

Well, last night she got kind of agitated around 1 a.m., squirming around and panting. At first we covered her with her blanket, thinking she was just cold, but that didn't work -- so at 3:30 a.m. I carried her downstairs to let her out. That didn't appear to be the problem either.

I decided I wasn't going to lug this 40-pound dog up and down the stairs all night, so she and I squeezed onto the two-seater couch, which required me to curl up like a cannonball. She was much calmer downstairs and, miraculously, we were both able to sleep.

Fortunately our cabin in Whitstable is only one story, so we won't have this staircase issue during Christmas!