May 21, 2012
Day 2: England: Powered by Pudding!
After hours of fitful sleep and a tailbone that hurt in all available positions, we flew into the sunrise and over a green and verdant land. It looked just like Southern Vancouver Island. The airport too was much like home. Any thoughts that the world maybe had ended at Montreal were squelched by this sign:
The sign, or course, was just the beginning. We asked directions of people who sounded straight out of BBC TV, and Dodie was hard pressed to stave off embarrassment by keeping me from giggling at how authentic they sounded.
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All the baggage showed up promptly and nothing was damaged. Wow, how's that for something weird and alien?
Out on the street level, cars and vans took on unfamilair shapes, and were made by companies long thought defunct in North America: Renault, Peugeot, Skoda, Fiat.
Our Renault van took us into Horley, to the guest house we booked for the first two nights. On Google street view Horley had appeared rather dull. But in person it was charming, and if not vibrant then at least active.
Our room turned out to offer only abput 6x10 feet of floor space beyond that taken by the bed. Pretty tight for setting up a bike shop, particularly when fatigue is making it hard to see straight. Still, we pulled the bikes from the cases and set about screwing them back together. It had been so long since we packed them, that we had forgotten little tricks about the configuration of the fenders, racks, cable routing and suchlike. Anytime we could put something on wrong, we did. Then our fuzzy brains looked at the result and said "whuhh". Finally we had enough done to sally out and have a quick look at where we were.
First thing we hit was a medium small grocery store. Here is all was: abundance of tea biscuits, marmalade, canned peas - mushy and otherwise,minute fresh fruit and veggie section (similar to the small bakery section found in US supermarkets), small to non-existent fresh baked goods section.
Next we sought out a 14th century pub that we had been tipped off about. The building fit the stereotype, with heavy beams and low ceilings. The food we ordered admittedly was short on green vegetables, but the preparation and quality were excellent. Not at all what we expected.
Next Dodie asked if I wanted "pudding". At the right time of year I can eat my share of Jello chocolate or butterscotch, provided it is the cooked and not the instant variety. Since this is not the right time, I indignantly refused. This led Dodie to question the wisdom of bringing me to a place like England unprepared. She of course had studied for long hours in front of the tele watching British sitcoms. "Pudding" it turns out means "dessert" in "English". It is a staple on sitcoms.
Armed with that info, I bypassed the chocolate cake, brownies, cheesecake, and suchlike on offer, and chose apple and gooseberry crumble with custard. This was a triumph of the pudding-like genre. The tart fresh gooseberries baked with apples and topped with crumble mated with the poured custard - and it was heaven.
HURRAY FOR ENGLAND!
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