The weekend that was...
Nov. 15th, 2005 11:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizwilliamsFriday Mr Jones and I went racing at Cheltenham - a slightly more extensive session this time, with lots more people and events. The first race consisted of camels - I don't mean they ran like camels, BTW, they actually were camels. I don't know whether people bet on them, but they probably did. There was also a large tented shopping area with a food hall. We tried some Welsh toffee vodka which should have been much nastier than it was. Lunch was the usual healthy racetrack fare of pints of Guinness and sausages.
Saturday Back to Glastonbury and thence to Lyme Regis. I don't know which way we went because I blindly followed T, who got lost, but only once. We stayed in a nice old guest house that used to be an inn - Oscar Wilde signed one of the window panes - and had dinner in a pub around the corner, situated over the rather charmingly named River Buddle. The pub had information about the various worthies of Lyme, including one George Somers, an Elizabethan gent who managed to:
- be mayor of Lyme
-successfully lay siege to Caracas
- get shipwrecked on Bermuda and thus inspire THE TEMPEST
- found a colony in Virginia, IIRC
- then die and have his heart removed and pickled and buried on Bermuda while the rest of him was shipped home.
T and I discussed this and wondered whether, in fact, Somers might not have been extremely boring. We pictured him sitting in the pub, pontificating, while various yokels rolled their eyes - "Oh gawd, he's banging on about the siege of Caracas again." "Yes, and has he told you about the time he pickled his heart?" OK, maybe not the latter, but you get the picture.
On Sunday we did the psychic fair in a small theatre. I read the tarot; T sold stuff. We made about £200, enough to cover the cost of the weekend, basically. But it was nice to go back to Lyme: I was last there for an extended period when I was about 12. It made a big impact on me - my family were never that well off, so we didn't go abroad, and usually we holidayed with my Welsh relatives. It's probably the reason why I am so travel-mad now.
Monday Borders in London. I'm still here, in fact, in a cyber cafe in Islington. Borders was fun - featuredfjm and Justina Robson, who recommends wearing a tiara to cure writer's block. She says it gives you a sense of queenliness, and accomplishment. This I must try.
Then the evening descended into a depravity of Soho drinking dens until about 2 am, when the Roberts household rescued me and itself. I feel much better than I have any right to.
I am, however, still annoyed: one of my friends had her handbag stolen in the Ben Crouch last night. She put it on the back of her chair, under a coat. Whoever took it must have been bloody quick. I have had to do the hexing thing again.
Saturday Back to Glastonbury and thence to Lyme Regis. I don't know which way we went because I blindly followed T, who got lost, but only once. We stayed in a nice old guest house that used to be an inn - Oscar Wilde signed one of the window panes - and had dinner in a pub around the corner, situated over the rather charmingly named River Buddle. The pub had information about the various worthies of Lyme, including one George Somers, an Elizabethan gent who managed to:
- be mayor of Lyme
-successfully lay siege to Caracas
- get shipwrecked on Bermuda and thus inspire THE TEMPEST
- found a colony in Virginia, IIRC
- then die and have his heart removed and pickled and buried on Bermuda while the rest of him was shipped home.
T and I discussed this and wondered whether, in fact, Somers might not have been extremely boring. We pictured him sitting in the pub, pontificating, while various yokels rolled their eyes - "Oh gawd, he's banging on about the siege of Caracas again." "Yes, and has he told you about the time he pickled his heart?" OK, maybe not the latter, but you get the picture.
On Sunday we did the psychic fair in a small theatre. I read the tarot; T sold stuff. We made about £200, enough to cover the cost of the weekend, basically. But it was nice to go back to Lyme: I was last there for an extended period when I was about 12. It made a big impact on me - my family were never that well off, so we didn't go abroad, and usually we holidayed with my Welsh relatives. It's probably the reason why I am so travel-mad now.
Monday Borders in London. I'm still here, in fact, in a cyber cafe in Islington. Borders was fun - featured
fjm and Justina Robson, who recommends wearing a tiara to cure writer's block. She says it gives you a sense of queenliness, and accomplishment. This I must try. Then the evening descended into a depravity of Soho drinking dens until about 2 am, when the Roberts household rescued me and itself. I feel much better than I have any right to.
I am, however, still annoyed: one of my friends had her handbag stolen in the Ben Crouch last night. She put it on the back of her chair, under a coat. Whoever took it must have been bloody quick. I have had to do the hexing thing again.
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 06:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 06:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-18 01:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 08:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 09:16 am (UTC)Nope, does not compute.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-15 11:40 am (UTC)How did the camel race compare to the horse races?
no subject
Date: 2005-11-18 01:42 am (UTC)A lot more chaotic and horse jockeys tend not to wear fake Lawrence of Arabia outfits made out of tea towels!