Dallying in Oxfordshire's villages on a Driving Trail of Midsomer Murders--and in Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons

Monday, August 15, 2016
Oxfordshire

I had a Dream Day--you know, the perfect kind, on which every mental idyll you've ever conjured just happens to come to pass. I sometimes think that the longer you wait to make To-Do List items happen, the sweeter their success feels.

Off to Northolt:
     Too much writing in the morning and work on my computer on the various things I am juggling made me rush out the door at 9.00 am (although I awoke at 6. 30 am) to make my first appointment. I grabbed a cheese scone to eat on the Tube and without even a cup of coffee was gone for the day. I had plans to meet friends at 10.00 am so we could accomplish our day's goals. Our meeting spot was the Northolt Tube Station as my friends live in Harrow. It is always easiest for them to meet me there.

Meeting Bash and Vinita:
     Regular readers of this blog will know that Bash has been a friend for almost 10 years, that we met when I last lived in London, that he is the easygoing, amiable chauffeur in whose company, Llew and I had covered some of the more inaccessible parts of this country--for instance, Highclere Castle, setting for Downton Abbey was the place he drove us to last summer. In his company, I have been to the Cotswolds (Hidcote Gardens), the Royal Wisley Gardens, Leeds Castle and so many other places. I enjoy his company, his wacky sense of humor and his enjoyment of what we see.
     This time round, I was meeting his lady friend for the first time--Vinita.  They had both taken a day off from work to spend it with me and because they had never been to Henley (which Llew and I had also visited last summer), that was where we were headed.  Accordingly, we met at 10.15am  (because, from force of habit, I turned towards the Stepney Green Tube station instead of Bethnal Green and had no choice but to take a different line and make a convoluted change later!) and began our journey to Oxfordshire. From the get-go, I took to Vinita and realized in seconds that I liked her and would have a terrific day in their company.

Arrival in Henley:
     We arrived in Henley in less than 45 minutes in Bash's able hands, while Vinita and I used the time en route to get to know each other. Needless to say, the weather was simply superb (I am running out of words to describe the incredible summer we've been having). Because Llew and I had only been to Henley last year, the town's basic layout was fresh in my mind and I could guide my friends to the Town Hall where the Visitor Center is located. Our idea was to park the car somewhere (Bash has a spiffy new number now that eats up the miles with ease--so goodbye Susie --his name for his old jalopy!) and start our exploration of the town on foot. Accordingly, I nipped inside the Town Hall that dominates Market Square (where since Medieval times a market is actually held once a week), got the maps I desired and joined them again on foot. We needed the facilities and followed signs to the public toilets (a pretty interesting feature of British life that I am not sure prevails in the US is the presence of public toilets everywhere) which led us to Waitrose where we got our coffee lattes, found long-term parking for our car and began our walk.

Exploring Henley on Foot:
     The full name for this pretty town is Henley-on--Thames which is a most obvious nomenclature as it is perched on a bend in the Thames. Henley is best known for its annual Rowing Regatta which attracts world attention. It is a wealthy town that, over the years, has become the sought-after homestead of various celebrities. A walk in the town can be accomplished in an hour. Apart from taking in the Town Hall, the market Square, the Victorian brewery on the water, the old Church of St. Mary the Virgin and its graveyard whose most famous inmate is the 60's pop singer, Dusty Springfield (whose gravesite we paused at), its Bridge across the River that separates Oxfordshire (in which the town lies) from Berkshire on the other side, a walk along the Thames Tow Path, a drink or meal in one of its excellent pubs--all of which we did with the utmost joy and delight of discovery (for Bash and Vinita, at least), Henley is the headquarters for the filming of the long-running British detective TV series called Midsomer Murders.
    
Henley's Midsomer Murders Connection:
     As long-time fans of this successful and very popular TV show, Llew and I are familiar with a great deal of the episodes. Part of my great enjoyment of this show that we watch together on PBS in the States is the settings--the most exquisite Oxfordshire villages with their picturesque greens, their atmospheric pubs, thatched roof cottages with typically English Country décor inside, quaint village events such as bake sales, summer fairs, day trips to local sights, etc. In the midst of the murders and mayhem, the show presents to the viewer the idyllic side of English rural life with its daily minor dramas amidst the quiet flow of routine. I adore the show and am a faithful fan. Henley made the perfect base for the crew of the show whose Location Managers would scout the surrounding villages and towns to find perfect spots for the filming of the series that has gone on for over fifteen years. Consequently, the Henley Visitor Center has maps that offer driving trails of the towns and villages that feature in the series and that can be easily recognized by the show's fans. Llew and I would have dearly loved to have taken one such driving tour last year--but in the absence of  a car, we had to content ourselves with finding the show's locations in Henley alone--such as the Gilbert and Machlin Butcher and The Argyll Pub on Market Square where various episodes have been shot.
     So although I would have dearly loved to have explored many of the villages and towns surrounding Henley with Llew, I had to wait to rope Bash into the project. He and Vinita were eager and willing--and so off we set. But first, after our lovely walk along the Tow Path, we were ready for a drink and, for old times' sake and because it was where Llew and I had stopped for lunch last year--we settled down at a pub called The Angel on the Bridge where I had the UK's favorite summer drink, Pimm's, while Bash had a pint of Guiness and Vinita had a small shandy. With the crisps they had carried with them, we had ourselves a fine refreshing pause.
     Just before they nipped off into our car to begin our driving tour, I dragged them with me into the thrift stores to look for vintage jewelry. What we did end up finding were loads of hats and fascinators (it is customary to wear one at Henley as at Ascot) that were left over from this past season's rowing regatta--but the price was far from right. Being brand-new, they were pricey and not available at the throwaway prices I expect in such stores. I had to say that my friends suffered the shopping jaunt quite gamely--Vinita told me she had never in her life entered one of these shops despite having lived in the UK most of her life--and then arrived at our car park to pick up our car.   

A Midsomer Murders Driving Tour:
     For anyone who wishes to use this blog post as a guide to do a similar driving tour, I would say two things: Pick up a map at the Henley Visitor Center but use it only as a rough guide of where to go and how to map a route. The map is not to scale--it is only a pretty artist's rendition of the local landscape. What you really need is a good proper road map of the area or, preferably, what the British call a Satnav and what we, in the US, call a GPS. Bash had neither--his Satnav had gone AWOL and he doesn't have the Google Maps app in his phone. Since I do not have online roaming, Vinita's phone saved the day for us. If you have that, you need not worry at all.
     Our plan was to follow the Northern Driving Trail--there is a Southern one too which must be just as lovely--that began in the village of Dorchester-on-Thames. By following road signage, we arrived at our destination about 20 minutes later--after passing by fallow fields and tiny red brick villages.

Exploring Dorchester-on-Thames:
     Fans of the show will find much to love, to see and to spot in Dorchester. It was good to see that we were not the only ones in search of bucolic TV settings--at every point, we ran into other fans equally eager to walk in the footsteps of Chief Inspector Barnaby (played by John Nettles) and his team. After parking our car, we went straight into Lily's Tearoom, a lovely little spot that would have been perfect for a cuppa, where we picked up a walking trail of the town--a guide really to MM locations.
     First stop, The George Hotel on the High Street, with its exposed timbered gables, its old stables and its black and yellow carriage at the entrance. Next stop, the Abbey where we paid a reverential visit to see a church that dates from the 900s AD. Then, the Abbey Museum (an interesting place in its own right but also a location in one of the episodes) where there is a glass case devoted to an exhibit of the number of detective shows and films that have been shot here including an Agatha Christie one and Merchant-Ivory's Howard's End. A short detour down a narrow lane took us to the ancient Village Hall and later we passed by the White Hart Hotel and the Fleur de Lys--eateries and hostelries that pop in and out of the shows. The village is filled with thatched roof houses that made perfect chocolate box covers, stone war memorials, a tiny post office and co-op--there is everything as architect Nicholas Pevsner would say, to please the eye and nothing to hurt it.

Off to Warborough:
     The same Walking Trail map available at Lily's made mention of the tiny village of Warborough where we headed next. It was difficult to find without a proper map because you can only rely on road signs that much. After making local inquiries, we did find it tucked away in a fold of the landscape. This is the village that boasts The Six Bells Pub that has been used both inside and out for a number of the episodes. As soon as you turn a bend and arrive at the village green which borders vast cricket grounds, you recognize it--this despite the fact that an ugly white awning had been erected at the entrance that completely robbed the space of its charm. Our idea was to get a meal in there, but sadly, as we had arrived after 2.00 pm, it was closed. Feeling distinctly peckish by then, we asked where we could get a meal and were directed to a place that we never ended up finding.
    
Finding a Very Late Lunch in Ewelme:
     What we did do  instead (since they were so obvious) was follow signs to Ewelme (U-el-mee) which is described in the brochure as "a delightful and tiny village". Arriving there, after making a sharp right turn at the Shepherd's Hut pub, we found what the brochure refers to as a "Tearoom"--it turned out to be the village store that is simply called Ewelme Village Store! They were closing in 25 minutes but that left us enough time for a very late tuna and sweet corn sandwich, a slice of Almond Cake and a pot of tea. They hit the spot and half an hour later, we felt energized to continue our rambles to the old Village Church which adjoins an old school and Hall. We found there, to our utmost delight, that the church has ancient cloisters that have been converted into a pretty rock garden and tiny apartments for the retired and the elderly.
     Chatting with an inmate that we ran into was the bonus for it provided us with perspective on the area and its many attractions. For me, however, the abundant lavender borders thick with bees, the lush rose plants that curled and clung like vines to wooden eaves and the lynch gate-like embellishments of the space made the stop at Ewelme completely worth while.

Off to Conquer the Miltons--Great and Little:
     The little village of Great Milton (also on the MM Trail Map) would be familiar to any global foodies for it is the HQ and flagship restaurant of one of the world's best-known and most-beloved of chefs, the Frenchman Raymond Blanc who has made England his home. His restaurant, one of the finest in the world and consistently voted as the best in the UK is called Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons. Together with his ex-wife, the interior designer Jennie Blanc, he took an old church vicarage and priory, attached to the church, and converted it into a world-class hotel whose largest attraction is the famous restaurant. I had been aware of this place for a very long time and had always wanted to visit it at least for a cup of tea and a cake. Its location, in the midst of nowhere, always prevented me from getting there on my own--and not driving in the UK is a huge handicap in this regard.

A Visit (Finally!) to Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons:
      So, where we arrived at Great Milton and found signs for the hotel, my joy knew no bounds. It was not long before we were pulling up in the parking lot and making our nonchalant way into the hotel. As soon as you arrive at the space, you are enchanted for the gardens are glorious and the landscaping is simply awesome. Giant verdigris artichokes dominate the entrance, surrounded (quite appropriately) by real purple- headed thistle flowers. You then walk up a path leading to a stone mansion (the former vicarage) where the Reception is to be found. Beautifully manicured lawns surround the property bordered by perennial flower beds that are truly enchanting.
     We discovered that although it is possible to walk in and partake of a cup of tea and a cake without reservations on days when they are not too busy, they happened to be full and were unable to seat us. We could have ordered a pot of tea on the lawns but if the idea is to enter the hotel and survey it, it made little sense to have tea outside. Instead, we were kindly and very graciously invited to walk through the gardens and enjoy the surroundings.
     And the gardens are astounding. Everywhere, uniformity of design, has led to the addition of verdigris sculpture that is soft and appealing and far from gaudy. There are birds, for examples, mainly swans and cranes that are presented in various sculptural poses that are truly enchanting. Water feature fountains, ponds, cascading and softly lifting waterfalls punctuated by flowers and bowers and more sculpture had us enthralled. And, the icing on the cake, were the expansive vegetable gardens from where fresh produce daily finds its way to the restaurant's tables. Wonderfully labeled, beautifully protected from birds, this is organic farming at its most satisfying and we loved every second of our rambles through the vegetable beds.
     By the end of our stroll in the garden, we were all motivated enough to try and find reservations for lunch at some future date. We paused for a long while in a gazebo and finally made up our minds to try and make a reservation. The lovely girl was replaced by a somewhat snooty receptionist who told me offhand that there was a three-month reservation list. My American pushiness came to the rescue for I insisted on his taking a look at his book and voila! We found a spot available for lunch in mid-September (when I shall be in Oxford)--the perfect venue from which to make the short drive to Great Milton. Bash and Vinita were my willing partners in crime and when we received a firm spot, we almost did a little dance. It would be simply glorious and we felt very successful when we left the place, after using the facilities one floor up, to have snagged a lunch reservation despite not doing so three months in advance. We look forward now to a thoroughly wonderful day out in the country again when we shall have the pleasure of partaking of some of the world's finest food as conceived by some of the world's finest chefs. I have long waited for this treat and the waiting has only whetted my appetite.

Off to Thame:
     By the time we left Le Manoir, it was 7.30 pm and I was beginning to be worried about getting back home at a decent time as I am still a tad afraid of my neighborhood at night. Little did I ever think we would spend so much time in this amazing place. I had thought we'd take a quick turn on foot and leave. Still, I was far from unhappy. The day had been gratifying in every possible way and I was a happy camper.
     Ten minutes later, we arrived at Thame which, we decided would be the last stop on our driving tour of Oxfordshire. As soon as you drive into it, you are greeted by a Town Hall and a Clock that is reminiscent of Henley and Woodstock, the Oxfordshire town. On the High Street is The Spreadeagle Hotel that has appeared in some episodes as well as Rumsey's Chocolaterie which was a photography shop in the series. While losing light in the falling dusk, we swung around the town and then, because the guide informed us about it, we sought out the 13th century church. Inside, bell-ringing rehearsal was probably on for the sounds emanating from the bell tower were wonderfully uplifting. Had time permitted, we'd have gone inside this lovely church too--but I was keen to get a move-on.
    Ten minutes later, we were on the highway headed towards London having experienced a truly memorable day. I was very thrilled that my companions enjoyed the day as much as I did and derived an enormous amount of pleasure from leaving the city environs behind and venturing out into the rural countryside. We hope that we will be able to have many more such adventures in the near future.

Journey Back Home:
     I requested my friends to drop me off at Harrow and Wealdstone station with the idea of taking the London Overground train to Euston which usually covers the journey in under 18 minutes. Sadly, the late hour seemed to have scrapped the express train for it stopped at several stations. I hopped off at Euston about a half hour later and then jumped into a Northern Line train going to Tottenham Court Raod with the idea of taking the Central Red Line train back to Bethnal Green. Right outside the station, I get a bus that brings me right opposite my doorstep--it made me feel safer to arrive home this way than walking the five minutes from Stepney Green Station. All went well until I arrived at Bethnal Green and found that the 309 bus was 24 minutes away. I was not going to wait that long as it was already 10.15 pm. When I stopped a passing cab, I hailed it and in five minutes and for a cost of 5 pounds, I was home safely and in my bed by 10. 30 pm.
    It had been an incredible day and I am sorry if I keep repeating myself. But it was also tiring and for the first time since my arrival in England, I turned the light off without blogging and went straight to sleep.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...            

A Day Out at Heavenly Henley-on-Thames

Tuesday, July 14, 2015: London

A Day Out at Henley-on-Thames

            Awake again at daybreak (5.00am) sans alarm clock, I am fully convinced I run on adrenalin when I am in London. Otherwise how do you explain the fact that I get a mere 5 hours of sleep a night, take no afternoon nap and am still full of beans despite the awful cold that continues to plague me?

Brekkie was an all-time favorite: Sainsburys Fruit and Nut Muesli with yogurt and coffee. There is a quiet slow pace to our morning but we have decided to shower and get away from London for the day. The forecast is calling for a cloudy day—but what’s new? It is summer in London—on expects an overcast sky! As long as there is no rain, we are happy campers.

            It is about 9.30 am when we finally set out on our daytrip to Henley-on-Thames, the picturesque sailing village on the river that is associated with the annual Royal Regatta. After a lovely natter with Arben, the concierge at the building in which we are staying and who goes back a long time in his acquaintance with us to a time when I once lived in this building in High Holborn, we disappear down the Tube shaft. But the cold I am still carrying (also responsible for an awful night of sniffles and a mild headache) has made me wooly-minded and we head for Waterloo instead of Paddington. It is only at the ticket window that we discover our error. To rectify it, we race into a Tube going to Paddington and upon arrival there, make it into a super slow train that requires us to make a change at Twyford where we have a 15 minute connecting wait. It is almost noon by the time we reach Henley-on-Thames. I did not expect it to take this long but we are on holiday with no particular plans—so we take it in our stride.

 Heavenly Henley:

            It is love at first sight for Llew and  me as we get off the train, take directions from the ticket clerk at the window on the way to find the High Street and go out to meet the village of Henley. From the Get Go, we are charmed by the architecture and the quaintness of the buildings. The entire village is still in festive mood—still recovering from the post-Regatta high that hits it when it is inundated by thousands of visitors who arrive to watch the legendary sailing competition between Berkshire and Buckinghamshire once a year in the first week of July. This year it ran from July 1-5—so we missed it by a week. Red, white and blue buntings adorn the entire village, strung across streets from shop to shop. We find ourselves buoyed along by the energy.  

We are a couple without a plan. We have no map, no tourist literature, no signposts to guide us. Still, following instructions, we arrive on the High Street and I am immediately seduced by the quality of the merchandise in the charity shops. It is in one of them that I find something I have sought for ages: a pair of Jackie O sunglasses (I had lost the pair I possessed in a New York restaurant and never had them returned to me). I am thrilled. Each building is prettier than the next. We pass by a brick church with a Byzantine steeple. We finally arrive on what is called Market Place—an open-air market has been held at this site every Thursday since the 12^th century. This is yet another astonishing aspect about English country life that never ceases to strike me—the fact that traditions such as these survive the test of time so effortlessly. In our age of refrigeration and supermarket chains there is still room for the organic farmer and the home baker.

            Market Street reminds me faintly of another nearby Oxfordshire town—Woodstock—by virtue of the fact that it’s Town Hall also sits in the midst of a small traffic island at the end of its main street. It is also similar in style and design with Woodstock’s Town Hall. We enter it to find a warm reception from the council workers who offer us maps, suggestions for things to do and places to visit and lots of leaflets associated with the international smash hit TV series, Midsomer Murders which has been on for over 15 years now. It uses scattered locations from all around the region for its exquisite settings and part of the great joy of watching the excellent plot lines of this series is feasting your eyes upon its locales. It is possible to do a Walking Tour to get to some of the series’ locations but if you want to truly explore the main villages that feature in the series, you need a set of wheels to take the Driving Tour—also available in a handy leaflet.

But, by this time, our tummies are rumbling and we inquire about the possibility of a good meal. Although The Argyll on Market Place, a very old pub in which several scenes in the series have been shot, is reputed to have “beautiful food”, according to the lady at the Information Center, we elect to find a waterside café—after all, we are at Henley-on-Thames!

Lunch at The Angel (Of the Bridge):

            The man at the Information Center suggested The Bridge, a landmark pub on the river—but he was not able to comment on the quality of the food or the prices. “We call it The Angel On The Bridge”, he said, as he directed us down Hart Street towards it. When we arrive there, past the beautiful church of St. Mary The Virgin, we find it is simply The Angel. It could not have a more scenic location: right at the foot of an old Portland stone bridge that dates from the later 1700s. A pontoon has been pushed out into the water with picnic style benches and tables to enable dining by the riverside. We glance at the menu and I opt for Bangers and Mash with Onion Gravy—standard pub grub that I adore. Plus my mouth has been watering since I passed by Gabriel Machin Butchers on Market Place whose wares were mouthwateringly arrayed for the viewing pleasure of every carnivore in creation. Llew decides to get the Cajun Chicken Breast with fries and salsa.

            We eat well as we watch rowers on the lake and cruise vessels that follow the Regatta course to show visitors pretty villages along the Thames. The region is rich in literary allusions—Kenneth Graeme wrote The Wind In The Willows in nearby Pangbourne and there is a small museum to this immortal classic close by. The Thames was responsible for his phrase that pertained to “Messin’ About on Boats” as Ratty, Mole, Badger and Toad shoot the breeze. Flocks of mallard life visit us as we munch and we see a spectacular swan hover over the water, its giant wings batting almost mechanically as it gets to the other bank. There are families of terns and some aquatic birds we cannot even recognize. It is an idyllic scene on a day that has cleared up well. There is no sun but brave glimmers of its rays make an occasional courageous appearance between clouds. We down our ale, we sip our wine, we feel buoyant. A group of noisy French rowers occupies a neighboring table—no doubt, they too are psyched about being in Henley.

A Walk Along the Thames Path:

            It is time for us to walk off the big meal we have just consumed and we decide to amble along the Thames Path to Hambledon Locks. Locks are one of the frequent features in the UK that require sailors to stop while cruising to open and close mechanical devices that regulate the flow of water in rivers and canals. To get down to the Thames Tow Path, we cross over the famed bridge and realize that the side we lunched on was in the county of Oxfordshire. On crossing, we have arrived in Berkshire. This area, known as the Thames Valley, is scenic beyond belief and driving or cycling tours are very popular here. It is while passing my camera, in my enthusiasm to Llew, with the request that he take my picture near the Henley-On-Thames sign, that it falls from our hands and literally bounces on the hard asphalt road. That’s it. It puts paid to our camera that no longer opens or shuts. The lens has been damaged and we no longer have a camera for the rest of our tip. Oh well, I have learned to take such travel casualties in my stride and to shrug philosophically about them. It can always be replaced and I shall buy one as soon as I return home.

            Meanwhile, we are walking on a glorious day along the Thames passing by some of the world’s most famous rowing clubs. Bleachers are in the process of being dismantled and removed as the end of the annual Royal Regatta brings the town back to normal and back to anonymity again. There is abundant bird life along the river and we enjoy the antics of swans, ducks and a variety of other feathered friends—not to mention scores of dogs as the Tow Path is popular with dog-lovers who emerge with balls and plastic ball-picks for an afternoon of exercise with their best four-legged friends. Gardens swoop down to the river in neat country homes that are well-maintained and very cozy. Some are palatial and constructed like Swiss chalets, others are tiny—typical English cottages with ramshackle front gardens. We troop on for about 45 minutes and when we see Hambledon Lock ahead of us, we decide to turn back. We have not yet finished exploring the town of Henley and we also wish to make a certain evening train. It has been a grand walk and I have realized yet another long-standing wish: to walk along the Thames Path from Henley onwards in the direction of Oxford. Because it is true: you can walk all the way to Oxford by following this Tow Path—and perhaps someday I shall do it!

 A Midsomer Murders Walking Tour in Henley:

We make an about-turn and retrace our steps back to Henley over the Bridge. Using the Midsomer Murders Walking Trail leaflet, we go out in search of places associated with the series: from the Town Hall and The Argyll Pub to Gabriel Machin Butcher. We stop at the Church of St. Mary The Virgin in whose church yard the famed pop singer Dusty Springfield lies buried. I have still to research her association with this town but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that she lived in it for a large period of her life and died there. Beatle George Harrison owned and lived in a home near the Town Hall. Several well-known British media and entertainment personalities have homes here and we could see why. It is a truly darling town and it did not have one ugly sight. The residents are used to its celebrity as various TV series have been shot here from Poirot to Inspector Morse to the Miss Marple Murders. The town provides the sort of idyllic facades that contrast with the grisly murders that affect small country estates and villages. In fact, I leave Llew behind on a bench in the Market Square and go out in search of the entrance to Henley Brewery that we had spied from the river on our walk—its tall chimneys and walls had sported its name rather proudly. I recalled vaguely that it was the setting of one of the Inspector Morse Murder mysteries in which a group of tourists take a guided tour of a brewery. And after walking down two narrow streets that form the maze of routes that make up the little town, I find it. It is no longer a brewery and has been converted into a boutique hotel—but the wrought-iron archway that joins two walls at the entrance to the brewery has been retained and I am fully certain that this was the façade that was used in the episode. I take pictures and resolve to go home to confirm this.

            Then, it is time for us to find our way back to the railway station for the 5. 10 pm train to Paddington, London. We make a change at Twyford once again and by 6. 30 pm, we are in the city ready for our next appointment. Our excursion to Henley (that had cost us 15. 70 pounds each round trip in train fare) had been extraordinarily successful and I am thrilled as I have wanted to visited this town for ages but somehow never got down to it. I am so glad I had Llew to share it with and that he responded so warmly to it as well.

Dinner at Polpo in Covent Garden with a Friend:

            We had 7.00 pm plans for dinner with our friend Murali Menon at Polpo in Covent Garden—so we hopped onto the Tube at Paddington and got there at about 7. 10pm We found Polpo, but Murali was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, as the restaurant does not take reservations, it is a free for all at the door and the post-work crowd was insane. We put our names on the waiting list and are told it would be a wait of at least 40 minutes to get a table. This place had better be good, I thought, as the area was crawling with eateries and I saw no reason to torture ourselves to find a table. As it turns out, we were waiting at the wrong Polpo—there is another in Soho and Murali was waiting for us there! A couple of phone calls ended the misunderstanding and he offered to make his way to where we were. Llew ordered a glass of Cabernet while we waited and before long, Murali turned up, looking dapper after a long work day as a financial analyst.

            A few minutes later, we were seated. Murali and I made contact when I had lived in London and he became a follower of my blog. He responded to something I had written, I wrote back—and that was it. An instant cyber friendship was struck that has become cemented over the years. I thoroughly enjoy his company as he is one of the few true Renaissance Men I know whose professional interests are completely different from the activities they pursue for pleasure. For example, having been raised in varied parts of the world through his father who was an Indian diplomat, Murali speaks fluent Russian and French in addition to English and a few Indian languages. He is devoted to art, music, theater, walking holidays, exploration and discovery plus he has an exquisite sense of humor as is evident in his own blog, “Just a Mon”. You can see why he and I hit it off and continue to take pleasure from each others’ company. His wife Nina was supposed to join us for dinner but they could not find a babysitter for their 10-year old son, Aangad. And so Nina was a no-show leaving us to enjoy Murali’s company for the rest of the evening.

            The concept of Polpo is that of small Venetian plates: tapas-like items that allow the diner to sample the chef’s  talents. Most servings were for two people but we cut up and shared the many offerings we chose: Aranchini (cheesey deep-fried, crispy balls that were delicious), serrano ham and artichoke crostini, pork and fennel meatballs in a spicy tomato sauce, crab, prawn and chilli linguine (absolutely yummy),”escaped bird” skewers—tidbits of chicken and pork belly on a skewer. I had a draft beer, Llew and Murali sipped wine. The ambience was very cozy and we were able to catch up on all sorts of aspects of our lives. About two hours later, we were ready to call it a night and walk to The Strand from where we caught buses that took us home to Holborn.

            It had been another memorable day—a day spent in the  country—that had allowed us to get away from London and explore beyond its confines to enable us to take in the pleasures of summer country life in this beautiful land plus re-connect with an old friend whose company is always stimulating and enjoyable to me.

            Until tomorrow, cheerio!