Praise the Lord there is . . .

. . .  a heaven, and it's in Devon (and I'm a poet and I don't know it!)  One of the abiding pleasures of my life is in enjoying the pleasures of friendship with people I have known for 30, 40, or even in one case, 50 years.  Because this is our 70th year, one of the couples we know took us away on a sort of 'magical mystery tour' for two nights this week.  We didn't know where we were going but it turned out to be a sort of heaven on earth, or to be more prosaic, the tiny village of North Bovey in Devon.  The village itself, which lies just on the edge of Dartmoor, is a delight, surrounding a wooded village 'green', with mostly thatched cottages, an old church and an excellent and genuinely friendly pub serving good food. 

For those who work for the government and are thus possessed of a large expense account, you can follow the stream that flows through the village for 10 minutes and come out on the 18-hole golf course which is part of the grounds of Bovey Castle which is not, of course, a castle at all, but an old 19th c. country pile which has recently been in the hands of Peter de Savary, a multi-zillion pound property developer who has turned it into a luxury hotel - and I do mean luxury!  To his, or his architects, great credit, they have done a superb job.  Everything from the faux Baronial Hall to the Regency Lounge is beautifully detailed, all the furnishings and fabrics and decorations carefully and tastefully chosen.  I doubt I could afford a starter in their proper restaurant but happily they have a brasserie-style cafe in which we all enjoyed a pleasant - and affordable - supper.

The next day, following a two-hour walk through beautiful English countryside our friends sprang the final surprise - lunch at Gidleigh Park.  For the benefit of my American readers, Gidleigh Park is one of the premier hotels and restaurants in the country.  It is just such a pleasure to a grumpy, cynical, old buzzard like me to see a task, or series of tasks, carried out excellently and apparently effortlessly.  We arrived late for lunch at 1.45, having taken longer over our walk that we had intended, but that was dismissed airily by the young staff who attended to us.  The food was mouth-wateringly good and the service superb and good-humoured.  The view across the Devon countryside was spectacular, er, well, 'spectacular' in an English sort of way, if you know what I mean!  Anyway, if any of you find yourself in that part of Devon, save up your pennies, or cut down on your stay if you have to, but do try and have lunch at Gidleigh Park.

Tonight I am eating cold meatloaf with coleslaw; that's called coming down to earth with a bump!  (Mind you, don't tell her, but the 'Memsahib's meatloaf and home-made coleslaw is to die for!)

Comments

[Joolzgirl]

You know, I actually would love some homemade meatloaf and coleslaw for my dinner. Unfortunately the man of the house doesn't care for either!

[David Duff]

Joolzgirl, welcome to Duff & Nonsense,of course, but how can I put this carefully? He is not for you! Any man who does not like meatloaf and coleslaw is unworthy of your love. Now, have you ever considered an older man . . . ?

Incidentally, and for what it's worth, this is the 'Memsahib's' recipe for coleslaw which might vary slightly from time to time depending on what's left around the kitchen:

Chopped white cabbage, carrot shavings, sweet corn, dried apricots, diced apple, sultanas and/or raisins, all mixed in Helman's mayonnaise.

For those with a stronger palate than me you could always add some curry powder to the mayo' but I like it unadulterated. Terrific as a side dish to a pizza; and the next day, for lunch, I sometimes have an open sandwich with some Brunswick ham covered in the remains of the coleslaw.

[Andra Taylor]

Dear David Duff
I have been keenly reading your comments in Sister Wolf's little rant for a while now and only today ventured into your domain. I have merely scratched the surface at the moment but shall certainly catch up.
The good sister's profanities are beginning to bore me and I need further stimulation.
I believe you might just be my man.
Happy Easter from Cairns in Australia (it is raining here as it must for every Easter. I think it is a law.)

[David Duff]

"I believe you might just be my man".

Ah, a woman of taste and discernment! (Er, you are a woman, I trust?) Anyway, welcome to D&N, Andra, and unsurprisingly it is raining here as well. Normally I would agree with you concerning blogs which produce a steady stream of profanities but 'Sis' does it with such style and, I suspect, her tongue firmly in cheek - well, some of the time.

My knowedge of Australian geography being virtually non-existent, I have just looked up Cairns via Google. I came across this quote:

"That's what I took away from Cairns: palm trees and piss-ups. It was perfect."

I am occasionally less than complimentary about Australia and its inhabitants but you will soon realise that it all stems from an unhappy life throughout which your cricket team has thrashed ours with monotonous regularity. Anyway, if I step out of line just hit me with a billabong - whatever that is!