White Haired Woman

Where we live, in Thanet, Kent, there are few trees as we live on the coast. The North Sea meets the English Channel here and the wind can be quite chilly until July – in my garden, which faces north-ish but has the sun overhead for most of the summer, it is often too chilly to sit outside with no sleeves. I think this is why there are few trees.

If you were to come into my back garden, you would say: ‘What do you mean, few trees? I can see maybe 10 trees along the back fence and further!’ and, I agree, there are trees along the back fence and, if I look out the front window I can see another tree or two,

But, there are few woodlands and no forests here. If I want to see woodland I would have to get in the car and drive for a while. I have been wanting to walk in a forest with Lola, the dog, seeing the birds and watching the undergrowth for little mammals scurrying about, for ages. You know, though, if you’ve read my posts, I no longer enjoy travelling and hate leaving home. So – what to do?

Well, I gave in to Julian’s desire to go to pastures new to paint, and we booked a holiday at Center Parcs, Longleat. For those of you in foreign countries, Center Parcs is a group of holiday villages in Belgium, the Netherlands, France, England and Ireland (and maybe more?). We’ve been to several over the years with various groups and twice on our own.

Longleat is in the west of England and the Center Parcs village was built in the forest of Longleat in the 1990’s. There are so many trees! Most of them are tall and straight and growing only a few feet from another tree in all directions. Among all these trees are ‘lodges’, small one storey dwellings with a sitting-dining area, a very well-equipped kitchen, a good size bathroom and several bedrooms.

Our lodge – Fir 718 – is one of maybe 15, that also accommodates dogs. It has two bedrooms and there’s a separate loo just off the enclosed front porch as well as a boiler/utility room. Outside of a glass wall is a patio and barbecue area with table and chairs – and trees, lots of trees!

Somewhere, not far from here, are some giant redwood trees. I may have seen them but am not sure what a giant redwood tree looks like!

I haven’t taken Lola for long walks through the forest though we have been here for over 5 days, for a very good reason. It’s not the rain or the cold, it’s not laziness or even the pain in my back.

Last Monday we arrived after a 3 hour journey. Because we were a little early, (the gates open at 4pm for customers to drive to their lodge and empty out their car before taking their car back to the parking lot for the duration of their stay.) We parked, got out and took Lola out of her travel carrier, gave her some water, and then started to walk towards the Plaza where there are shops and restaurants as well as the wonderful indoor swimming pool area. As I walked across a small area of earth between two parking lanes, I tripped on the smallest bit of tree stump you can imagine and found myself on my face in the dust!

Falling over in public is always embarrassing, even for an old lady, but worse than falling over is the process of getting up, particularly if one has, as I have, two replaced knees. I had the op on both knees around 14 years ago, because all the cartilage in my knees had worn away and they were causing much pain,. Despite my thankfulness at the lack of pain, I was very sad to realise that I could no longer kneel. Old and rather overweight people find it difficult to get up from the ground, particularly if they cannot turn onto their knees. I am old and somewhat overweight. When I fall (not often, thank goodness!) I need a strategy to get up. The strategy most of the time is to get someone strong to help me. In the case of last Monday’s fall, I had Julian, but he has just worked hard to lose weight and now weighs about the same as I do – and is not able to lift me. As I sat on the ground, I spotted a large younger man passing by. He saw me and came over with an offer to help. In just a moment, I was once again on my feet, thanking the kind young man profusely.

So, you can understand my lack of long forest walks.

Julian went back to the car park today because we forgot to pick up Lola’s little water bowl after I fell on Monday – and it was still there, just waiting to be reunited with the other bowls and Lola.

When I wrote my post this afternoon, I said that my beautiful, intelligent daughter was born in 1963 – she wasn’t!

My wonderful sweet and generous only child was born a whole year later, in 1964 and I want everyone to know she is not yet 60 (and to me she will always be my baby, whatever age!

Asked what is my favourite Candy, I could – if I were a narcissist – answer: myself, of course! But I’m not a complete narcissist and, too, I have a lot to say about my favourite candy.

As an adult I can answer very simply that my favourite candy/sweet is Bendicks Bitter Mints. These are, without a doubt, the best chocolate mints in the world! (Obviously I haven’t tried them all, but I have tried quite a few.) Bitter Mints are made with very dark chocolate enrobing a wonderfully minty interior. They are large enough that just one can suffice, though two are good, too.

But, if you want to be answered by the child in me, my answer would be different. My favourite candy is Good and Plenty. For readers in my adopted country, G&P are made by, I think, the same people who make Hershey Bars (which, I find, inedible!). G&Ps are quite similar to licorice comfits in that they are a short strand of licorice covered by a pink or white sugar coating BUT they are completely unalike in taste. G&Ps are covered with a sugar coating with an addition that makes them stand out! The addition is an aniseed flavouring to the coating which makes them completely YUMMY! unlike licorice comfits which are just BLAH.

I was introduced to Good and Plenty sweets in my childhood at the candy truck that stood outside, across the street from my elementary school. Every afternoon there was a line of children waiting to be served with their favourite candy or something new and interesting. I don’t remember the first time I bought a little box of G&Ps. But I adored the taste straight away. I thought that they would always be available to me – and they were for some further years but, in 1958 when we came to England, the English sweet shops were like being in a foreign land! (They were, of course, to an American child.) Luckily, for the following 3 years or so, we had ‘PX privileges’ and at the PX we could usually find the delightful candies.

But, as I’ve said somewhere before, Patty left the Navy and began working for a British architect. Every time anyone I knew was flying off to the US, I would ask them to pick up a box or two of G&Ps and in this way, I was able to keep my memory alive.

Years passed by. People I knew holidayed at the English seaside or flew to Ibiza which meant that, eventually, I slowly began to forget G&Ps. Then, when I was in my 70’s, I found I could buy G&Ps on Amazon!

Thrilled? You bet I was! I think I bought a five pound bag of them! I know I put on a lot of weight around that time – I may even have bought, separately, two five pound bags!

I started dieting! I bought no more G&Ps for quite a prolonged period of time, then, a couple of years ago, I tried Amazon but found no mention of my favourite candy. I searched and searched and found a website based in a sweet shop in Wales, of all places, that sold them. I bought too many, ate them all and put on weight. I just couldn’t control my desire for them so I decided to buy no more.

Last Christmas-time, I gave in and bought a pound of Good and Plentys from the same Welsh sweet shop. I ate them. I put on weight.

I will buy Good and Plentys no more! (What do you wanna bet?)

UPDATE

In 2025 Veronica and her hubby went to Los Angeles for several weeks for work and enjoyment and, very nicely, brought me back 2 boxes of Good and Plenty. By the time Veronica had time to come and visit, it was near autumn and I had started a new diet – again. She gave me the boxes and I put them into a cupboard determined not to eat them until I had reached my goal weight. Sadly, Christmas intervened. By Christmas I had lost over a stone* and was able to wear an old pair of jeans I hadn’t worn for some years. After the celebrations of Christmas, I still weighed my pre-Christmas weight and started my diet again.

Last week, still at my pre-Christmas size and somehow not having lost even an ounce, I opened one of the stored boxes and over a week, ate the contents – they were as yummy as ever! Then, my friend, Myrna, phoned me to say that she had a couple of friends coming over from the States and did I want anything. I said I would love some Good and Plenty (to replace those I had removed from the cupboard and had eaten). Yesterday, Myrna and her friends dropped in with FIVE whole boxes of G and Ps!

That was in the morning. By lunchtime I had opened the first box and had a couple (for old times’ sake😏), then had a few more after lunch. I had a few more today, after lunch and I can’t see that first box lasting too much longer – so, I took a photo to remind myself of my new stash – and here it is!

I’ll let you know, when I’ve finished them, whether or not I reached my goal weight before or after that happens!

• For foreigners, a stone is fourteen pounds or approximately 6.35 kilos.

Back in the days when Julian was working at an international bank in the city of London, but not earning big bucks, he decided to give me a special Valentine’s present – a trip on the Orient Express from London to Paris, with 3 nights in Paris before returning to London via the normal trains and ferry. He paid an all-inclusive price for the travel both ways and the hotel.

The trip itself was in April, a couple of months after Valentine’s Day, so the weather was pleasant. We travelled to London from West Malling by train which, luckily, goes to Victoria Station where we were to embark on the grand Orient Express train. Each car of the fabled train had a name; we were in Cygnus. Our stewards for the journey were Gus and Cyril. One of them showed us to our seats which were either side of a table for two. We set off towards Folkestone and shortly were presented with menus for the luncheon.

As we ate, the train ambled through the Kent countryside, arriving at Folkestone in the mid afternoon. We embarked onto the ferry which was named Horsa and went to the lounge which had been set aside for travellers on the Orient Express, where we enjoyed a coffee.

The ferry was a little late getting to Boulogne because of fog in the channel, but the continental Orient Express train was waiting for us, of course. We were shown to our seats in car R1 (I’m looking at the notes I made in 1987 and that’s what it says.) and from there we went into the Piano Bar where there was, indeed, a piano, being played by a gentleman who knew what he was doing!

After drinks and nibbles, we returned to our seats in R1 where we were served a wonderful six course dinner. (See MENU below, not the Carte) I imagine we also had a glass or two of chilled white wine. (See Vins Blancs, below.)

I don’t know how we managed to eat all that and then stand up and move when we arrived in Paris, but we alighted from the train about 9:30 pm and made our way, by Metro, to the hotel.

Now comes the weirdest part of this story which I assure you is all true!

Our hotel was called L’Hotel d’Anvers. We went to Anvers metro station and as we reached the top of the stairway leading out of the station, there, to our left was the Anvers Hotel. We went straight in and to the booking desk. There was a youngish woman sitting behind the desk and I, in my best French, explained that we had a room for 2 booked for three nights in the name of Lovegrove. We were shown to Room 4 on the next floor which was well appointed with an en suite.

If you know Paris you might already know that Anvers is at the bottom of the hill which has Le Sacré Cœur on top and that it is reached by a seemingly endless flight of steps. Well, despite having got up early to start our journey, we were excited to be in Paris so went out to wander around. We climbed to Le Sacré Cœur and wandered around Montmartre where we saw many people enjoying its night life. Eventually we went back to the hotel and to bed. Julian slept like a log, as always, but I slept badly as there was an awful lot of noise on the main road outside.

The next morning we got up around half past eight and spent the day sight-seeing. We went to Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Tuileries Gardens, and walked up the Champs Élysées from La Place de la Concorde to l’Arc de Triomphe. Tired out, we went back to the hotel for a rest. As we entered the hotel, the old lady who was sitting behind the reception desk stopped us and asked when we were going to pay! I told her that we had already paid when we booked the holiday. Then she told me that the hotel doesn’t have that kind of arrangement with any holiday agents! We showed her our paperwork, then she told us that we were IN THE WRONG HOTEL!

We had assumed that the Anvers Hotel was the same as L’Hotel d’Anvers, which, she told us, was down the road and around the corner. We were feeling a little down realising that we were going to have to pay for the night we had spent there as well as having paid already for the other hotel but it was do-able, thankfully. We walked down the road and around the corner to the right hotel. They had given our room to someone else as we hadn’t turned up!

Now we realised that we were going to have to pay for three nights at the ‘wrong’ hotel, so we were going to have to be even more careful with the money we had brought with us. Luckily, the ‘wrong’ hotel was able to give us our room for that night and the following one, so that was one problem we weren’t faced with.

That evening we went up to Montmartre and had dinner in the Consulat restaurant and came out feeling wonderfully full and far less miserable about our hotel mistake.

The next morning we got up and walked to the Gare de Nord to find out about the times of trains for the next day, then took the metro to l’Odéon, saw the bouquinistes (the stalls of books along the banks of the Seine) then went to a Matisse exhibition. On our way back to the hotel we bought wine and cheese to take home with us, then – after a little rest at the hotel – we went to a brasserie in the Rue de Maubeuge and had wonderful food. (A plate of saucissons et jambon, fish and rice, a creme caramel, coffee and wine for me and avocado with shrimps, veal escalope and rice, cheese, chocolate mousse, coffee and wine, for Julian).

The next morning we said au revoir to Paris and went back to West Malling via ordinary trains and a ferry. We arrived at home about 3 in the afternoon, both ready to go back to work and to tell our family and friends all about our trip on the Orient Express.