Feeling decidedly scroogish, I headed off to Dulwich Village on Christmas day to join a very good friend of mine, her family and her Italian fiancé [stra bello, lui] for lunch. Working a killer look I was – Armani dinner shirt with grosgrain bow detail on the collar, nude silk cardi, embroidered scarf, dark denim and schoolboy shoes. Looked fierce, I must say. Lunch was a bit of a let down we all agreed. I mean, cold Christmas pudding? Anyway, my friend and her parents, very lovely people, invited me to spend the night at their cottage in Shere. Shere’s a very lovely village that’s been the idyllic backdrop to many a film, most recent being The Holiday. Jude Law nearly had to have an outfit change in their lounge!
Gawd, to be out of the city! Real trees! Fresh air! Ahh, this is the life…
Their cottage is actually older than America! Get this, I slept in a room that’s been in existence before Christopher Columbus made that famous voyage! I joked with my friend’s fiancé about how the Italians let go of their discovery. I quipped that Christopher missed mama’s cookin’ so much that he had to make a prompt u-turn back.
The following morning, after a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs and pork pie, we walked across the fields to a pub where we knocked back a few jolly pints of local ale – the Shere Drop. Mmmmmm, salt and vinegar crisps are THE BEST. There was a power cut and the blazing log fire threw up images of Dickensian England and all sorts. Sore point: people must have been a damn sight shorter in those days. Many an unfortunate encounter with a beam on the ceiling… Ouch!
PS: That’s me in the foreground with green wellies. Country Gent.
PPS: I had a very lovely, lovely time.
addendum: By Juicy’s request my Boxing Day outfit consisted of said dinner shirt, now in crumpled state, disheveled blazer, knackered looking nude cardi, Burberry wool trench and… wellies. Green ones borrowed from a neighbour. Size 11’s are hard to come by. Oh, what fun we had traipsing through the fields and puddles of mud. I looked hilarious. And we somehow managed to unhinge a kissing gate. Farmer Giles will not be impressed…