At last - the photos of Penshurst.....

And they're really rather good.

We were taken to Penshurst straight from the airport (Gatwick) and given lunch there before touring the gardens Once again I was struck how people give voice to things that, even were I to think them,  I would never let pass my lips. In this case it was the woman who pouted at me 'Oh, you've taken the last sandwich in brown bread'. She said this in a tone of some  accusation which really quite surprised me. The sandwiches were on a large platter and were being passed down the table and reached me before they got to her although, given that she was sitting opposite the plate was readily visible to us both. I took two sandwiches and passed down the plate only for her to say the thing about the last brown sandwich.

Now had our positions been reversed I would have shrugged to myself and thought that I'd rather have had brown but I would make do with white. I certainly wouldn't have expressed a disappointment verging on anger to the person who had just innocently picked up a sandwich off a plate. All she needed to do was say, before I made my selection, oh I see there's only one brown one left, could you leave that for me? Or failing that, swallow her disappointment rather than be so rude. It wasn't a case of her needing brown bread, that would have been another thing, but we had all had an opportunity to give any dietary requirements to the organiser long before the trip ever began and there were separate plates fro some folk accordingly.

 

And being a bit too think skinned for my own good I got very defensive and prickly which is what  I do when faced with inexplicable rudeness, which became a bit of a default position for the rest of the time. Have I said we're not really group travellers....? I think I may have mentioned it in passing!

 

Anyway I had forgotten quite how nice Penshurst was until these photos arrived. The garden tour took so long that we passed on the opportunity to see inside the house as we'd only have had about 20 minutes which is ridiculous for a place of that size and interest, and should we ever find ourselves in Sussex again we'll try and see it properly.

 

 

And it seems five is all you get because the computer is resolutely refusing to allow me to upload any more just now.

 

And that finally completes our adventures in Sussex apart from the story of the very suave lawyer type I was sat next to for dinner at Glyndebourne. He  really should learn not to make assumptions about people, and/or to adhere to that law of polite society that decrees that religion and politics should not be discussed at the dinner table.

 

'Of course' he informed me ' we did a lot of work for the No campaign locally'.

'Mmm' said I. 'We worked for Yes ourselves. Perhaps we should just leave it there?'

 

I've never seen an expression on anyone's face that so encapsulated the concept of flummoxed. Presumably in his book independence supporters were 'poor, wee and stupid'. He obviously never dreamed he would encounter any at the opera.