Marco Pierre Who?

Saturday August 24

Sarah is traumatized.

On these motorways, there are regular rest spots. Just a hundred feet or so of a parking lane. You know they’re coming when you see the familiar “P 200yd” parking sign on the side of the road.

There’s usually someone parked there when we go past. Snack, snooze or swap driver.
Anyway, we were barreling along a major motorway in England, and we drive past a car parked in one of these rest spots. And then Sarah kicks off. Oh yuck!!!  What?

There’s a woman squatting beside her car, facing forward, having a pee. Oblivious to the fact that every car coming past can see her white arse. If I can’t see you, you can’t see me. A very five year old solution to a problem. I call it “doing a Bronksville moon”. This comes from the time Sarah and I went on a trip to Nelson with her godparents and a family friend from Bronksville New York. There is a part of the road where you come off a bridge and sweep around to the left, past what we in New Zealand call a rest stop. Parking area, BBQ tables, good to have a comfortable picnic at the side of the road. Anyway, this old dear from Amrika, Eleanor, needed to pee. She took herself off through the bushes, looking for the perfect spot. We hadn’t paid her much attention, until I look up and see her squatting on the ground, white Arse facing me. What made it worse, was that she had drifted away from cover in all directions. Directly in front of her, but clearly not obvious to her aged eyesight, was the sweeping bend.
I’m just glad there were no unexplainable crashes in those few moments. And before you ask, no, we never said a word to Eleanor. Warwick and I still joke about it from time to time, though.

Anyway, after that traumatic event, it didn’t take too long to get from Hayhenge to The Carnarvon Arms. Cute pub, advertising kiwi cider out the front. Might try some soon.

Sarah is snoozing, and we’ll be having dinner here in a couple of hours.

It seems tha Marco hasn’t owned this place for quite a while. Interesting how the Booking.com was using his name when we booked a few months back. 

The reason we are here, is that this pub is about 3 minutes away from Highclere Castle. In fact, it used to be the stables for the castle, before somebody sliced the A34 down to separate them. To get to Highclere now, you need to get off the A34, head for Carnarvon,  and then turn left and cross a bridge over the motorway, and then proceed up their drive. I doubt there are many homes, stately or otherwise, who’s driveway begins with a bridge across a motorway.

For the uninitiated in the finer points of Chick-tv, it’s the location for Downton Abbey. We are doing the tour in the morning. Then it’s off to Windsor for afternoon tea at Frogmore Cottage.