Yes, the intrepid two ladies have been off gallivanting again after their long winter hibernation.
They set off last weekend - Mrs. Lawton steering the Green Goddess in her habitual foot-on-the-floor style. Mrs. Tyhurst talked through current events as usual, including the story about her estranged husband's recent tabloid photograph at the G20 protests (wearing a flat cap and a decontamination suit would you believe?).
They stopped en route in Totnes. With a sudden rush of blood to the head, Mrs. Tyhurst sinned rather badly in 'Conker Shoes', buying not one, but TWO pairs of handmade shoes.
How very naughty.
Later, whilst walking along the quayside in Dartmouth, it was a little chilly and Mrs. Tyhurst regretted the decision not to take a pashmina. Well she was just getting over her Easter illness.
They quickly located 'The New Angel' restaurant...and shops-to-make-a-beeline-for in the morning. Then it was time for a simple, unpretentious snack ....
Beating a hasty retreat from the Royal Castle Hotel (having noticed a woman setting up her minidisc sound system...what kind of singer sings to backing tracks and feels the need for a smoke outside beforehand ???),
the two ladies settled down for several pints of wine and a pub dinner elsewhere.
They are certainly not too posh to frequent a local hostelry.
The next day was the much anticipated ferry trip to Greenway, former home of novelist Agatha Christie.
After a short climb through magnolia-strewn gardens the gorgeous Georgian building revealed itself through the trees.
Ladies who volunteer for the National Trust are so very pleasant don't you think?
Mrs. Lawton and Mrs. Tyhurst are seriously considering signing up, although there is rather a dearth of properties locally.
They were very careful with lunch, just a cup of tea for Mrs. Lawton (Mrs. Tyhurst, however just had to sample a piece of National Trust cherry shortbread).
Dinner was to be at the Michelin starred 'New Angel' restaurant back in Dartmouth that evening.
Mrs. Lawton wore a fetching pewter coloured kurta, and sensibly wrapped herself in a dark green handwoven kullu shawl (this had been brought back from Mrs. Tyhurst's travels in the Himalayas). Mrs. Tyhurst was wearing a simple linen 'Flax' dress (just because she is the kind of free spirit that the label suggests) and some rather cheeky little black 'Red or Dead' pumps.
Now, their evening started rather well: squeezing past Mr. Burton Race (who was outside), and taking a pleasant cocktail in the fabulously furnished upstairs lounge. Orders taken. One simply cannot stick to the 'set menu' can one when faced with so many delicious dishes ?
Mrs. Tyhurst was rather surprised at the simple nibbles on the table - marinaded olives and toasted seeds. (Was there a 'Lakeland Plastics' in Dartmouth?)
The food was divine...as one might expect, and it was so exciting seeing the plates dressed by John B-R himself in the open-plan kitchen. He was at arm's length from Mrs. Tyhurst, shouting instructions auctioneer-style to his minions. There was much leg kicking under the table, especially when Mrs. Tyhurst threatened to take a photo...it simply would not do, what with all the scandal.
But. (oh dear Mrs. Lawton) This particular establishment has failed Mrs. T's napkin test, and both Maitre D' and several other staff failed to identify the shallot puree that accompanied the roast veal kidneys.
Now Mrs. Tyhurst, being perhaps the sterner critic, has seriously questioned whether the 'New Angel' really merits a Michelin star. The service, although polite, was exceptionally fast. Perhaps the 'cr**** cr****' (don't you just detest that phrase?) has adversely affected business?
Either that or Mrs. B-R is digging her alimonius heels in. Quite frankly the two ladies would also dig their little pumps in hard.The man is an absolute bounder.... but one could so easily be swayed by his pannacotta.
The next day Mrs. Lawton fell in love.
Mrs. Tyhurst noticed that Coleton Fishacre, home of Mr. Richard D'Oyly Carte, was just over the other side of the river. With small whoops of joy they simply revelled in freedom and spontaneity as they popped over (in the car) on the ferry.
Coleton Fishacre is an utterly divine Arts and Crafts style house, with gardens leading down to the sea. Mrs. Lawton quite excelled herself clambering about in a heady mix of wild garlic and bluebells. The attention to detail inside is exquisite.
Savouring the experience later in the tearoom, Mrs. Tyhurst and Mrs. Lawton shared their mutual tendency towards voice intolerance ( stupid young woman in HEELS just blathering on in a ridiculously pitched voice) and they both laughed about Mrs. T's earlier disclosure about her 'behavioural hernias'.
But Mrs. Lawton is seriously in love.
They set off last weekend - Mrs. Lawton steering the Green Goddess in her habitual foot-on-the-floor style. Mrs. Tyhurst talked through current events as usual, including the story about her estranged husband's recent tabloid photograph at the G20 protests (wearing a flat cap and a decontamination suit would you believe?).
They stopped en route in Totnes. With a sudden rush of blood to the head, Mrs. Tyhurst sinned rather badly in 'Conker Shoes', buying not one, but TWO pairs of handmade shoes.
How very naughty.
Later, whilst walking along the quayside in Dartmouth, it was a little chilly and Mrs. Tyhurst regretted the decision not to take a pashmina. Well she was just getting over her Easter illness.
They quickly located 'The New Angel' restaurant...and shops-to-make-a-beeline-for in the morning. Then it was time for a simple, unpretentious snack ....
Beating a hasty retreat from the Royal Castle Hotel (having noticed a woman setting up her minidisc sound system...what kind of singer sings to backing tracks and feels the need for a smoke outside beforehand ???),
the two ladies settled down for several pints of wine and a pub dinner elsewhere.
They are certainly not too posh to frequent a local hostelry.
The next day was the much anticipated ferry trip to Greenway, former home of novelist Agatha Christie.
After a short climb through magnolia-strewn gardens the gorgeous Georgian building revealed itself through the trees.
Ladies who volunteer for the National Trust are so very pleasant don't you think?
Mrs. Lawton and Mrs. Tyhurst are seriously considering signing up, although there is rather a dearth of properties locally.
They were very careful with lunch, just a cup of tea for Mrs. Lawton (Mrs. Tyhurst, however just had to sample a piece of National Trust cherry shortbread).
Dinner was to be at the Michelin starred 'New Angel' restaurant back in Dartmouth that evening.
Mrs. Lawton wore a fetching pewter coloured kurta, and sensibly wrapped herself in a dark green handwoven kullu shawl (this had been brought back from Mrs. Tyhurst's travels in the Himalayas). Mrs. Tyhurst was wearing a simple linen 'Flax' dress (just because she is the kind of free spirit that the label suggests) and some rather cheeky little black 'Red or Dead' pumps.
Now, their evening started rather well: squeezing past Mr. Burton Race (who was outside), and taking a pleasant cocktail in the fabulously furnished upstairs lounge. Orders taken. One simply cannot stick to the 'set menu' can one when faced with so many delicious dishes ?
Mrs. Tyhurst was rather surprised at the simple nibbles on the table - marinaded olives and toasted seeds. (Was there a 'Lakeland Plastics' in Dartmouth?)
The food was divine...as one might expect, and it was so exciting seeing the plates dressed by John B-R himself in the open-plan kitchen. He was at arm's length from Mrs. Tyhurst, shouting instructions auctioneer-style to his minions. There was much leg kicking under the table, especially when Mrs. Tyhurst threatened to take a photo...it simply would not do, what with all the scandal.
But. (oh dear Mrs. Lawton) This particular establishment has failed Mrs. T's napkin test, and both Maitre D' and several other staff failed to identify the shallot puree that accompanied the roast veal kidneys.
Now Mrs. Tyhurst, being perhaps the sterner critic, has seriously questioned whether the 'New Angel' really merits a Michelin star. The service, although polite, was exceptionally fast. Perhaps the 'cr**** cr****' (don't you just detest that phrase?) has adversely affected business?
Either that or Mrs. B-R is digging her alimonius heels in. Quite frankly the two ladies would also dig their little pumps in hard.The man is an absolute bounder.... but one could so easily be swayed by his pannacotta.
The next day Mrs. Lawton fell in love.
Mrs. Tyhurst noticed that Coleton Fishacre, home of Mr. Richard D'Oyly Carte, was just over the other side of the river. With small whoops of joy they simply revelled in freedom and spontaneity as they popped over (in the car) on the ferry.Coleton Fishacre is an utterly divine Arts and Crafts style house, with gardens leading down to the sea. Mrs. Lawton quite excelled herself clambering about in a heady mix of wild garlic and bluebells. The attention to detail inside is exquisite.
Savouring the experience later in the tearoom, Mrs. Tyhurst and Mrs. Lawton shared their mutual tendency towards voice intolerance ( stupid young woman in HEELS just blathering on in a ridiculously pitched voice) and they both laughed about Mrs. T's earlier disclosure about her 'behavioural hernias'.
But Mrs. Lawton is seriously in love.
2 comments:
Annie - What a fab blog!
Love Jude xx
Well thank you. So very kind !
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