Spring and new arrivals

 

Philippa called the day I got back from Singapore and we had a nice day together with a visit to Avebury Manor and supper at Massimo's. Every time I come back I realise how much I like Devizes and the Wiltshire countryside generally !

 
It takes a lot of beating. I left the Cottage in Tony and Maya's more than capable hands as they await the completion of their house re-building. Minnie the cat is hanging in there, slightly demented, prowling in blind circles in a disconcerting way and now less prone to leave little testimonials to her presence all over the place. At 20+ she's amazing, fur in good condition. I hope I am in as good a state when I am the equivalent 140 years old.  

Simon, Ruth and Violet and Spring arrived all at the same time in Newport. The contrast in weather between now - with temperatures in the 70s- even the 80s - Fahrenheit and what it was just a few weeks earlier is nothing short of extraordinary. Bellevue Avenue looks quite different with everything in luxuriant leaf and legions of little singing birds appearing from wherever mysterious place they choose to hide during the winter. The House now surrounded with fresh green foliage from the magnificent trees that are such a feature of the Avenue. They are mostly said to be

'European Beeches' , but many of the seem most unlike beech trees I've ever seen. Planting them was conferred social status of course. The view from the side window of my bedroom of our neighbour 'Miramar' contrasts strongly with the first view I had of it back in November, with banks of brilliant rhododendrons.

Of course the warmer weather also brings the tourists and by contrast with the winter Newport seems crammed with them. The queue of cars getting out of the town end of the Avenue was well over half a mile long at Memorial weekend, a public holiday. I live up the far end of the Avenue fortunately, and have learned a few of the rat runs that the locals use. The locals are full of dire warnings about what it's like from mid June when the real season starts, but I won't be here then, of course.

Simon Ruth and Violet got here in good shape on Tuesday 21st and immediately plunged into a hectic programme skilfully contrived around the young lady's sleep and feeding patterns. Of course we managed a trip to Bowling alley on the naval base and, it being a Monday afternoon had the place almost entirely to ourselves. The usual brilliant display of 'strikes' and 'spares' and other such arcane outcomes, rewarded with burgers and fries 

Violet wows them wherever she goes, not least the Fourth Street Diner where she behaved perfectly while her father, like Chiff before him, disposed of a 'Boxcar' - an enormous breakfast of eggs, homefries, links (sausages to you and me) etc followed up by pancakes with all the trimmings and coffee constantly refilled. My visitors are now getting used to dealing with the machine-gun series of questions you get in this country whenever you order something -  what meat do you want, how do you want your eggs, what sort of biscuits etc etc. Until one gets to know the form diner-eating is all an adventure until the result appears before you.

The Diner is also an instructive place to explore 'the American way' - not just in what they eat but how they organise themselves. They may be over-regulated as a country, and tiresomely beset with lawyers -  but when it comes to running a diner,  the American approach leads to a level of apparently effortless efficiency that is nothing short of amazing. I find watching the servers and the two young male cooks dealing so fast with every group of diverse orders and managing to produce them piping hot all at the same time, within five minutes of ordering totally absorbing; I think it explains a great deal about American success. There are downsides to living in the US of course, but the Diner experience is definitely not one of them.

 

Of course we also managed some of the famous Mansions, focussing on the ones with audio guides because that allows for much more procedural freedom.  Violet did her homework closely perusing a book on Newport's architectural history. I took a picture of the three of them looking down from the balcony over the magnificent stairway of Marble House where they looked as though they owned the place.  And of course they were dutifully lined up for the now traditional photo beside Cherry's urn at the Breakers.

Earlier Simon and an unconscious Violet had done their duty by her 'Liondog with pearl' outside the Chinese teahouse at Marble House, where taking advantage of my membership I have taken to having coffee on a Saturday morning while reading my Wall Street Journal (good for foreign news and books reviews)

We made the most of the weather ('leveraging it' of course) by doing the Coastal walk which is very pleasant, but for all the hype, not a patch on Cornwall's version. Rocks and sea on one side and the chance for an illicit peek into the grounds of the public and private Mansions behind. I can understand why the wealthy land-owners resisted the path, but like all visitors am glad they lost. We also did Sachuet point, this time in glorious weather for more sea views (rather wilder this time as it's a nature reserve) and lots of opportunities to just miss snapping the local birds. Perhaps a touch unimaginatively (from my end) we did a repeat of the South County tour over the water pioneered by the Powells, a wander up the high street of the charming little town of

Wickford where all the houses are 18th or 19th century and have little house plaques of their names and dates. We were amused by one that said just  We also dined on fish and chips at Galilee looking over the estuary at  Jerusalem.  While I was at work, they had a few days in Cape Cod, saw some whales and had a good time despite uncooperative weather. Since coming back to Newport they managed some mornings on the various beaches around here, including my local one 10 minutes walk away.  This is the public end of a long private Beach with a clubhouse so exclusive that Bobby Kennedy (Pres Kennedy's brother) was refused entry; our end is known as the Rejects' beach. In its way it's also quite exclusive since there is nowhere for normal people to park their cars.

They all left a few days ago about to embark on a house-hunting expedition in Sussex and I am buckling down for my last few weeks in Newport for the time being.  The weather is really warm right now and I am resolved to make the most of it, working outside in 'my' lovely little patio area, where I was rather bizarrely joined by a young American Robin I think it is, squatting on the gravel and gently panting