It’s been a splendid week. The weather has been pretty much excellent – clear(ish) blue skies and warm temperatures with lots of lovely sunshine. As my alter ego Larry David would say, it’s been pretty, pretty, pretty good.
So good that Tuesday saw the first “real” bike ride since last December. (What was I doing cycling in December last year? The weather must have been pretty decent, that’s all I can conclude).
Tuesday’s ride was lovely and the bike showed no signs of being out of shape after its long winter rest. The weather, as I say, was gorgeous but I still wasn’t taking any chances – I wore my cooler-weather cycling gear. But I have to say I was over dressed and had to roll up the sleeves on my Arrogant Bastard jersey to reduce the risk of overheating. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, I was smacked in the face only occasionally by the odd large buzzing insect and, at one point, a red kite swooped down and hovered about 10 metres above me as I cycled up the hill from Weston to Helmdon. I think he was eyeing me up as a bit of lunch but after about fifty metres or so flew off elsewhere in search of something tasty. Thank goodness I’ve been cycling on the exercise bike all winter – still, the “real” hills seemed pretty steep to me.
Sadly, no photos of the bike ride but Penelope and I did get out for a lovely walk on Monday and ran across these beauties who had just been put out in the fields – proud mama on the left appears to have produced three little sproglets. They can’t be much more than a day old.
On Wednesday we took further advantage of the great weather and ventured out to Waddesdon Manor, a stately home about an hour from here. We’d never been before and I’m not sure I can work out why not? It is stunning.
It was built in the late 19th century by Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild as a weekend residence for entertaining and as a place to house his astonishing collection of arts and antiquities. He bought the estate in 1874 from the Duke of Marlborough and, at the time, there was no house, parkland or garden but it did include a cone-shaped barren hill with magnificent views over the surrounding countryside. The summit of the hill was levelled and building commenced in 1877. Baron de Rothschild wanted a country manor in the style of a grand French chateau and employed a French architect to design and build it. And it is something! Quite astonishing to come across this elaborately decorated French chateau on the top of a hill in the English countryside.
We first toured the house which was, to say the least, somewhat overwhelming. Of course, it’s big with lots and lots of very large rooms. But also, there are so many extraordinary pieces of furniture, porcelain, paintings, clocks, sculptures, tables, chairs – all of them exquisite. I think there’s only so much a peasant such as me can take in one outing.
The highlight for me, not surprisingly, was the wine cellars which hold a mere 15,000 bottles (of various sizes) of the finest Rothschild wine – Château Lafite, Château Mouton Rothschild, Château Clerc Milon and Château d’Armailhac amongst others. Just to give you a “taste,” I can let you have a 1982 bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild, 1er Cru Classé, Pauillac for a mere £3,572.
We even found some portraits of a few of our “ancestors.”
As some of you know, I dabble in genealogy and often take some little delight in finding connections to “famous” people or royalty. One of my mother’s lineages is the Joy family, one of whom, Thomas Joy (1610 to 1678), my nine-times great grandfather, was one of the very early settlers in Boston. He came from Norfolk and his mother was Frances Paulet, a descendant of the aristocratic Paulet family who intermingled and intermarried with royalty and aristocracy of a variety of descriptions. Through her we can trace connections to all sorts of folks, including the four in the portraits below.
Sir Amias Paulet was the second cousin, twice removed of our Frances Paulet. He was Governor of Jersey and, for a time, responsible for keeping guard over Mary Queen of Scots prior to her execution.
Of course, if you keep digging long enough you can find a connection between just about anyone and just about anyone else.
After the house tour we collapsed in the Manor Restaurant where I had pre-booked afternoon tea. Once again, it was exquisite – quite pricey for what it was, I suppose, but one is paying for the experience as well as the food and the whole experience was very nice indeed. I needn’t have worried that I might be feeling just a bit peckish after the little bites. Sorry that I didn’t “Instagram” the savouries but it was all excellent.
After our refuelling we wandered around the garden which was lovely in the warm sunshine. The trees, of course, are still not quite in leaf but the Daffodil Valley, in particular, was sensational. Of course, my photos don’t do the place justice so you should look at the National Trust site to see some of its beauty and grandeur.
A splendid day out!
Including the real mileage I clocked up on Tuesday, I’ve made my way from Amboy through the delightful towns of Ludlow, Newberry Springs, Barstow, Oro Grande finally arriving in the splendid metropolis of Victorville on the virtual journey along Route 66. Along the way I visited the Bottle Tree Ranch in Oro Grande before visiting one of the great highlights of the tour, Lane’s Crossing just outside Victorville.
In 1859 Aaron G. Lane, a veteran of the Mexican War and a Forty-niner, established a ranch and store for travellers on the road from Fort Mohave at this point where it crossed the Mojave River, the first (white) settlement on the Mojave River.
The plaque here was erected in May 2014 by the Billy Holcomb Chapter of the Ancient and Honorable Order of E Clampus Vitus, an organisation dear to my heart. My father was a very active member when I was a boy and I believe he served as the Noble Grand Humbug of the Platrix Chapter for a time. He regularly used to disappear for weekends on camping excursions with a group of fellow reprobates to erect plaques to commemorate some of the more obscure aspects of western history. In truth, of course, these excursions were often more about drinking and carousing with friends than commemorating historical achievements or artefacts. My brother Steph became a member as did a few of my friends.
No YCNMIU this week because you really could not make it up!
Oh, all right then – there was a photo of our millionaire Chancellor of the Exchequer (whose billionaire wife is richer than the Queen) pretending to be a “man of the people” filling up his car with petrol following Wednesday’s spring budget announcement.
Only thing is, it’s a photo op for the media and he had to borrow the car from a worker at Sainsbury’s (where the photo was taken) as a photo of his chauffeur filling up his Bentley might have been a bad look. I love the way he has his sleeves rolled up – just a casual, ordinary guy. Pity he forgot to take off the microphone he was wearing (towards the top of his tie) before his taxpayer-funded official photographer took the photo.
And finally, Happy Mothering Sunday to all the stupendous mothers out there – where would we be without you? And especially to my wonderful mother who was one of a kind.
Miss you every day.
Meanwhile, keep happy, keep smiling, be careful, wear a f**king facemask in crowded places and keep your distance. And keep safe.
Lots of love to you all,
Greg
Just reading about William Morris’s Kelmscot in Oxfordshire in The Guardian. Not quite on the scale of the Rothschild pile, but looks well worth a visit.
Thanks, Gregory, for continuing to lighten my Sunday mornings!
Yes, I just read about it as well. It’s not too far away so we’ll try to get there soon. Lots of love.