Christmas Comes Early

Home again, home again,

Jiggedy Jig

Yes, dear reader, I am home again after a most relaxing time in Devon and Sussex.  No fat pigs were bought at market during the trip (with reference to the children's poem paraphrased above!).  But I did buy a super lightweight down winter coat and a casual jacket, and managed a work-around to get them home. 

A rellie drove us to the airport as there was a threat of train strikes starting that day.  The convenience of this wonderful chauffeur service meant that I could take an extra little case for my new goodies. 

So although I faced was with a luggage issue in all-of-a-uniqlo, no ditching was required and I got to the airport in style.  The job really was a good'un.

Here I am, at the airport's Caviar House, doing a selfie as is my little home-going ritual.

But can you see what's behind me?

Yes, a Christmas Tree!  Already.  My first sighting this year! 

I rummaged around but there were no pressies with a "To The Pout" gift tag :-(.

Have you seen your first Christmas Tree of the season yet?

And here comes my ritual food shot of my ritual meal at Caviar House.  We allow ourselves enough time to enjoy a leisurely lunch at restaurant.  It makes the whole journey process so much more pleasant.  It ameliorates the hanging-around-the-airport experience.

A prawn cocktail and a glass of Sancerre.  Their prawns are especially yummy.  They taste of the sea.  A fresh, slightly salty taste permeates through the flesh.  Truly yummy. 

They've stopped serving them in the huge cocktail glass, but the dish is easier to eat served this way.

And as per our ritual, The Photographer ate a delicious smoked salmon. 

We are such creatures of habit.

I really most try to stop posting so many food pics. 

But you must understand, dear reader, that a plump body like mine doesn't just happen.  In order to maintain my corpulence, I have to work at it and I just can't afford to ease up on the calorie intake :-).

 

A la perchoine.





My 18-piece Wardrobe #4

"The Party's over, it's time to call it a day ..."


The Dip

Day 10, Tuesday

Yes, the 18-piece Wardrobe Party is over.  I'd set myself 10 days for the discipline. 
Here's what I wore on my last day.

Pink BHS cardi similar here, with M&S black/white  jersey print top and white Peacock crops.  The shoes are from Clarks here, currently a bargain at 50% off.

Clarks shoes, ipso facto - they are so comfy!

Just a heads up on these - the front leather piece cut into my toes in my regular size, so I went up half a size and they are just dandy. Fortunately, Clarks has a extensive range of half sizes and width fittings too.  Good news for us "old" ladies.

At the risk of repeating myself, buying shoes these days is a real Cinderalla affair.

But enough of this old lady stuff, how did this 18-piece drive-through work for me?  Well, I liked having a very neatly arranged selection of clothes to sift through each day.  But I did start to feel a bit samey.  Now that I have test-driven the concept, I will do it again because of that very fact, but with more thought given to my 18 piece selection.  Why not give it a try too?

The Dive

We spent our last evening of the holiday at a traditional inn serving traditional food.

 

Prawn Cocktail to start, it doesn't get more traditional than that!

 Good old British Fish and Chips - I didn't manage to get through even half of this gigantic piece of cod!

 

But I did help my fellow-diner out with his Belgian waffle affair! 

A three course meal with loads of choice was just £10.

It's just a shame there was no pussycat back home that night to surprise with a tasty fish left-over catty-bag!

Day 11, Homeward Bound.

 "I'm sitting at a railway station, got a ticket for my destina-a-tion, oo-oo-oohh ..."

Despite the threat of train disruptions this week, after just a short wait at said railway station, my destination was reached in good time.

In good time, because I allow myself ample time to enjoy this ... 



at The Caviar House and Prunier at London Gatwick, here.

What an elegant way to wait for a plane.  It's become a sort of tradition.

A leisurely seafood dish and a fine Sancerre.  

A departure screen to keep an eye on the flight.  

People to watch, fellow-diners to chat to, crosswords to complete.

So, safely back home. Back to mounds of post to sift through.  Back to grass to mow and hair to cut - both have gone a bit crazy.  And back home to my purring shadow - to say the cat was pleased to see his Mummy would be an understatement, he hasn't left my side for 24 hours!


A la perchoine.