Avon Calling! Our first UK summer's Top Ten

Ahoy, mateys. Now that our (largely pirate-themed, as you'll read, to the delight of our little Peter Pan devotee) summer is over, I thought I'd provide a summary of our first few months in Britain's bucolic Avon Valley. At various moments, 'twas nostalgic, academic, neolithic, soporific, sophomoric – but generally fantastic. Without further adieu, the...

Summer 2010: The Best of Bath

1) Althorp. Need I say more? Okay, fine, I will. Althorp is the childhood home of the late HRH Diana, Princess of Wales. The stately family home, now overseen by Diana's brother Charles, the current Earl Spencer, is located about three hours northwest of Bath, so I dragged DH and daughter on my lifelong-awaited pilgrimage. Both were terrific sports. The house is undergoing renovations and should be even lovelier when complete. The grounds now contain a small exhibit to Diana's life - notes she wrote in her youth, lots of family photos, jewelry, which Josie loved, the condolence books sent from around the world after her death (which means E and I are in there, somewhere) and DRESSES. When I saw the wedding dress in its full splendor, I confess I teared up a bit.


The People's Princess is buried at Althorp, in an island in the middle of a lake on the property. I spent a few moments walking around the island. The house itself was pretty amazing as well. I spent the most precious moments, of course, in the much-maligned Althorp gift shop buying up everything that wasn't nailed down.


Of course, the wedding at the B and B where we stayed, which went until 1 a.m., with a DJ blasting peaceful, dream-inducing ditties like "Brick House" and "Mambo #9", would be in the top ten worst moments in our English summer... but that, as they say in "Tales from the Riverbank," Hammy, is another story.

We should have seen the Sleepless Night from Hell coming
when I caught the bridesmaids practicing their breakin' moves

2) Salcombe. How lucky to have British chums still living in Paris, who a) still want to be friends though I've left France, b) vacation in the U.K., and c) invite us to vacation with them in the U.K.! My dear friend C, in inviting Josie and me to join their last bank holiday weekend in Salcombe, Devon, promised me the "Martha's Vineyard of England." She's not yet been to the Vineyard, but never mind, she was partly right, partly off – but in all the right ways. Salcombe is much smaller than the Vineyard, more like I picture Nantucket to be. Charming, narrow streets, cute, preppy shops, lots of fish-and-chip shacks. It was the perfect way to end the summer: crabbing, shopping, cooking lovely meals and drinking wine over delicious views of the harbor, taking the "ferry" (a 7-8 person dinghy) to the huge, sandy beaches to build sand castles and – if you are completely insane like Josie Diana – even swim!

Fifty-degree water? Practically a hot tub!

3) Sudeley Castle. Second only to my obsession with Princess Diana is my obsession with the Tudor family history. The Other Boleyn Girl, Elizabeth, The Tudors, I read and watch them all religiously. So, as my sister-in-law J and I pored over the National Trust guidebook for a fun castle to visit with the kids, I leapt upon Sudeley Castle, where Katherine Parr, Henry VIII's last bride (Joely Richardson, for fans of The Tudors) lived, with Elizabeth I and Lady Jane Grey as her wards, after the death of the old tyrant. We packed into 2 cars and set off for an afternoon of history and beauty - and Sudeley did not disappoint. The castle was actually built in medieval times, destroyed after Katherine Parr's death by Oliver Cromwell's armies, and rebuilt in Georgian times. You can still see parts of the original castle, its crumbling walls rising over breathtaking gardens:


And, of course, the Chapel where Katherine Parr lies in rest:


Rounding out the Sudeley afternoon was a fascinating tour of the house and grounds, chock-full of Elizabethan history, as well as the background of the quirky gentry currently residing there, and a fabulous playground complete with wooden castle and tower, giant slides and ice-cream truck! A "highly recommend" on the English castle circuit.

4) Stonehenge and Avebury. We've all heard the disses on Stonehenge. "It's too commercialized." "Tourist trap." "Once you get there it's just a bunch of rocks." But you know what, it's great to visit a place like Stonehenge with the low expectations borne of someone else's hardened cynicism. The place is freaking cool. I was only able to sporadically listen to the audioguide (someone had to keep an eager two-year-old away from the stones) but what I heard was anthropologically interesting, physically baffling (how did they move the stones so far?) and not just a bit creepy. Plus, archaeologists are constantly making new discoveries in the surrounding countryside to add to the story!

As far as visual wonders go, I would rate it up there with Pisa. You think, "ahhh, what's another prehistoric site, druids or no druids..." and then, wham! You see the stones, you feel the chill of the early morning air, and it all feels so...mystical.



Avebury is a lesser-known, lightly-patrolled (no audioguides, no ticket-takers, stone-hugging COMPLETELY allowed) group of stones a short distance from Stonehenge. We were instructed to walk through on our own and see if we felt drawn to a particular stone. I'll spare you the shot of the anatomically-shaped stone Jeff was "drawn to." But it was fun being able to pose the kids precariously on 5000-year-old neolithic monuments.



5) Bowood Manor. A stately home. Meticulously groomed gardens. A pirate ship playscape for kids. Trampolines for the under-5s. In other words, literally something to please everyone. Bowood is typical of the hundreds of historic estates around the U.K. – many of which were seized by the British Army during World War II and damaged beyond the family's ability to repair and retain them – transformed into family funlands. I only picked Bowood for our first Sunday out as a family by closing my eyes, flipping through a guidebook and choosing at random. It was a great day, and – as we watched Josie bounce joyfully on a trampoline, order around other sailors, clamber through a soft-play obstacle course, and inhale a three-course lunch in the sunshine – made us extremely happy to have moved to such a family-friendly country.

Lichen-y Lions...

...and Pirate Playscapes. Love the English countryside!

6) Bath Food and Wine Festival. An enthusiastic and repeated attendee of the "Salon Saveurs" in Paris, I had low expectations for Southwest England's gastronomic exposition. But, like most assumptions about British cuisine, that was wrong! It was certainly small (about 1/5 the size of Paris' fancy food show) and highly focused (cheddar, sausages, tandoori, ale) but it was great being able to take Jeff for once – and we had fun trying all the regional specialties. We even stocked up on fancy olive oil, chutneys, and cheeses. It was a beautiful afternoon, and sans Josie we were able to relax, enjoy a lamb burger with pear cider, and listen to live music.

7) Longleat Manor. How can any red-blooded family looking for a Sunday outing refuse a "Medieval Wonderland and Safari Park?" And so we found ourselves trucking one morning toward Longleat Manor. Owned by the aging "Lord Bath," who is apparently "barking mad," Longleat is a onetime family estate, now completely renovated and Disneyized, complete with maze, bounce house, miniature railroad, and - yes - two prides of lions which have lived and bred successfully here in the Avon valley since 1966. This was my second "drive-through safari" (we'll also leave the famous Davidson African Lion Safari-Toronto story for another time) and, I have to say, scenes like this are pretty cool!

Hey, could I trouble you for a...Camel Lite?

After visiting giraffes, rare birds, zebras, and the famous Lions, we barely completed Longleat's extremely difficult, completely traumatizing maze. But we can't wait to go back (we bought the complete package ticket, of course!) for the Adventure Castle, Teacup Ride, and "Old Joe's Mine," a fun-filled adventure starring a colony of free flying Egyptian fruit bats. Boy, these Brits know how to show the kids a good time!

8) Notting Hill. Everyone blames Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts for turning this charming corner of London into yet another mecca for camera-wielding tourists. It's also a bit far from the center of town, so we skipped it on our last London trip. However, this time I was sure to book ample time on Saturday, so that we could hit the famed Portobello Road Antique Market and have a fab gastropub lunch. With our trusty Swedish babysitter Josefin was at the ready, Jeff and I set off. When you first climb out of the Notting Hill Gate tube station, you might think "so, what's the big deal?" I mean, sure, you can see a house where George Orwell once lived:


And I, ever the rom-com geek, was busily snapping away at every blue door in the nabe, in case it were Hugh the Bumbling Travel Bookshop Owner's (when I got back to Bath I learned via IMDB that the door has long since been painted a different color in order to deter dorks like me from staring in their windows looking for Spike in his wetsuit). But I digress... the market. Well, when you finally wind around that last corner onto Portobello Road, you see what all the fuss is about. Within ten minutes I had bought a 1952 Coronation Tobacco Tin with a terrific, kitschy colorized image of QE2, new ceramic knobs for our desk, a porcelain jug spotted with English roses, and various bizarre tchotchkes for family. The place is mind-blowing. There have to be hundreds of stalls selling antique silver, Persian rugs, old prints, vintage clothing – it would take you ten Saturdays to see them all.

Look at that awesome door!

Of course, 75% of what we actually bought was totally sham-tique. But it all looks terrific in our apartment! Then, starved from all the ducking, poking and bargaining, we collapsed in a lovely gastropub recommended by Frommer's (that guy never steers me wrong when it comes to restuarants) called Bumpkin. I only made one Crude American Faux-Pas, asking our server if they sold the adorable "Country" tee-shirt she was wearing (I mean, come on – every New York joint from Zabar's to Tortilla Flats sells tee-shirts) . Flustered, she stammered that I could probably buy hers, as her shift was ending in an hour, but...

Hugh, you were not here... except in my dreams. Got the latest Grisham?

9) Bath Fringe Festival, notably "Treasure Island." The Bath Fringe Festival provides an "alternative" celebration to the mainstream Bath International Music Festival. "The Fringe," as those-in-the-know call it, includes Funky Puppet Shows, drumming workshops, independent film screenings, and, apparently, homegrown theater productions like "Treasure Island," a moving production staged at various locations in nearby Sydney Gardens.

We started in one of the Garden's belvederes (look that up), watching Young Jim and Mrs. Hawkins suffer at the hands of Billy Bones the Pirate. Then the presumptive Captain, who wishes to hire a ship and look for the treasure, entered stage left and delivered his lines in a BOOMING VOICE. Well, in such an uncontrolled environment (kids and parents scrunched together on stinky cushions on a concrete floor), you can't, well, control the environment. One four-year-old finally shouted, "Stop yelling!" And OMG, it clearly took every acting chop the poor blowhard Captain had to keep from cracking up. I actually thought the acting was excellent, and tried to picture where and how these fringey people rehearsed a two-hour play! After the third act, held in a clearing about 20 yards away, the Captain called intermission and opened the treasure chest, which was actually a fully-stocked bar, with various ales and soft drinks. We looked at the pirates and sailors sharing a brew with Stroller Dads and said to each other, "This is Bath."

Let's find the bloody treasure so we can all have a pint!

10) The Lions of Bath. Like the cows of Chicago, the police dogs of Boston, and the bulls of New York, Bath has its own – now annual – public street art festival. This year, various businesses sponsored "Lions of Bath," which were scattered all over the city. Thus, every tromp through town running errands with Josie turned into a journey of thrilling discovery. My friend C will love the Cath Kidston lion, while I loved the jewelry-store-sponsored "Lion, Witch and Wardrobe."

Kath Kidston Lion

Floral Lion in Parade Gardens -- how cool is that?

Alas, summer is over, but as few parents admit, in the end that's a good thing. The kids are back in school – Josie started nursery at a fabulous all-girls' school, but that's for the next post – and we have a bit of sanity back. But as our first summer in England proved, sanity is highly overrated.

Why couldn't the pirate graduate from first grade? Because he only knew one letter... "ARRRRRRR!"