1) Before I rushed out the door early for my train, I had to snap a photo of the building across the street from my hotel, and the large weed flowering exuberantly from the cornice of an upper floor window. Such a charming detail of my time in London.
2) The cabby (who had been at it for four hours already) and I chatted a bit about the coronation, London traffic (he used abrupt and colorful language when someone attempted to cut him off), and the current state of the UK before lapsing into silence about halfway to Euston Station.
3) Euston Station, by the way, has no visible place to throw away trash like used paper coffee cups. I had to go up to the next floor in search or something, which I finally found: a clear plastic bag held to the wall by a dispenser or something.
4) My train journey to Coventry was beautifully quiet, so I was able to keep reading 1939: The Last Season and glimpse some rainy countryside. Occasionally that would include sheep, or small fields of fluorescent yellow, very dramatic on a gray day.
5) As promised, Paul and Christian were there to meet me at the exit, our first reunion since before the pandemic. When visiting them, as Greer Garson said to Karen Morley in Pride and Prejudice, “I tremble and obey.” Before I knew it I was in their car and we were driving to their home in Kenilworth for elevenses (coffee and sausage pie), and an impromptu chat with one of their nice elderly neighbors (who quite reminded me of my mother).
6) The remainder of the afternoon was spent meandering along English country roads, “The colors of the day//Lively green and grey,” twisting and turning here and there, often more crowded than one might expect, and punctuated by two stops: Baddesley Clinton and Packwood, Tudor and/or Tudor/influenced country houses now operated by the National Trust.
6a) In the back of the car, and with its ambient noise, I was not always able to follow along with what the boys were saying. (Anyone reading this already knows I ahem have comprehension issues at times, especially with background noise, and I can already hear the chorus from two or three people gleefully chanting “Russian, Thousand Island, vinaigrette! Two blocks down and take a left!”) When I would occasionally ask a question, the answer would sometimes sound something like “Fargle Hadgley!” in a tone with a bit of a smile in it that said “We have told you this already.” And they may have. I accept it all as flowers gratefully accept the rain, never having been steered wrong by their ability as guides.
6a.1) They will read this and smile, because they are very aware of my many faults and love me anyway. And I feel the same.
A Baddesley Clinton interior. These people have clearly stolen my life.
7) Baddesley Clinton is a Tudor and Tudor-acting-and-appearing moated house with some beautiful garden beds of red and yellow flowers, wisteria, heraldic stained glass, and — gasp! — a priest hide where Catholic priests hid out when necessary. A lovely chapel with small stained glass medallions in the windows completely charmed me.
7a) Seeing the low velvet early 20th-century sofas in the ground floor rooms made me think of cozy house-party weekends. But the most delightful detail was a mid-20th century typewriter in the study!
Packwood House from its garden.
8) Packwood House is a much-augmented Tudor house, the most enduring achievement of Graham Baron Ash. Seeing its great hall (originally a medieval cow shed), with its gorgeous refectory table, and the long dark corridor lined with tapestries and deep sofas reminded me of Nancy Cunard’s account of her mother Emerald’s house parties at their country home, Nevill Holt. The house is full of tapestries, Delft tiles, and Objects of That Ilk.
8a) Fun fact: Queen Mary came to tour the house in 1927! It was not recorded whether she said “I am coveting it with my eyes” to her host about anything in his collection.
8b) But first we had lunch in their chaotic café, absolutely overrun with people. We had trouble finding an empty table and seized one as soon as its occupants made a move. The nice counterman told Paul “It was all quiet until about 45 minutes ago, and then boom, everyone came in!” I had a “Sicilian lemonade” with my panini, quite refreshing.
8c) The gardens of Packwood were very beautiful, and to my eye, seen best on a gray day. Most famous was the Yew Garden, full of exceedingly large and carefully clipped yew trees. At least one family was playing tag there. At the end of a long path we went through a narrow opening in the hedge, turned left, and gradually realized we were going up a spiral path toward the center of a yew tree. Masterfully designed!
8d) We made a circuit of the pond, admired the sunken garden, and then very happily discovered the kitchen garden, full of interesting plants and espaliered fruit trees. It might have been my favorite!
9) And then more winding down English country roads bordered with hedgerows back home for a couple tasty cocktails, Indian takeaway (which was delivered, but is still called takeaway here), and four years worth of catching up on our lives, and one week’s catching up on my laundry.
10) I am snugly ensconced in my Coventry hotel now, with its snail-like internet, and ready to tour Leamington Spa with Christian tomorrow.
With the sunken garden of Packwood in the background.