Our Revels Now Are Ended

“Be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended.”

The birthday week is over; Beloved and I have a birthday within two days of each other, which makes the whole thing either less of an ordeal or more of a celebration, whichever way you want to look at it.

Firstly, I must make amends. Having slept well for several nights, and having come to terms with ‘hanging yet another year on the line’, I must give the ladies, about whom I was so very rude in my last post, their due.  They gave me a splendid lunch at Mellington Hall, a hotel set in lovely countryside, deep in the Shropshire/Welsh Marches.  Because there were eight of us, gossipy huddles were difficult to arrange, a bonus for me; instead the conversation was good-natured, friendly, and very jolly. I enjoyed myself. There was just one slightly awkward moment when the waiter came in, bearing the tiniest birthday cake with a tiny birthday candle -  and the group burst into a very giggly and unmelodious rendition of “Happy Birthday To You”.

I don’t mind pushing myself into the limelight on occasion, but I hate it when others do it.

We had B’s birthday meal at a Michelin-starred ‘pub-restaurant with rooms’.
(I love that description; it conjures up all kinds of naughty ideas for me. Do you avail yourself of ‘the rooms’ before or after the meal, or possibly spend the night?) However, The Stagg Inn is a very proper establishment, with glorious food, served unobtrusively and efficiently and not a frilly pink shell-folded napkin in sight. At the next table sat a middle-aged couple, who obviously didn’t officially belong together; they were much too lively, talkative and amused with each other to have a high mileage behind them.

When they arrived, they made a great fuss over a warning on the menu that certain items would require a lengthy cooking time. It’s what happens with freshly cooked dishes; food slammed into the microwave straight from the freezer comes more quickly. However, Mrs. Naughty then went into the bar where she stayed for ages. Her ‘partner’ eventually went to fetch her; not in the least embarrassed, she exclaimed loudly: “ I was looking at the bar menu and got talking to some delightful people there.” Only then did they study the restaurant menu and order.

You might think, this Friko person is a busybody, sticking her nose in where it has no business to be, watching and recording; you might be right – how else am I going to get blogging material on a slow day.

Yesterday, three charming bloggers and I met at a North Shropshire Garden.
Wollerton Old Hall Gardens are small but ‘perfectly formed’, with formal and informal garden rooms divided from each other by hedges, walls and pergolas.
The planting is very attractive, with colour co-ordinated rooms, some pale and monochrome and others bright and colourful. I particularly liked some beautiful trees, which had obviously been in situ long before the current gardens were established.



Sadly, it rained for part of the visit. We spent the dry part in the coffee shop, only venturing out after the rain had started, which made it all very eccentric. During the worst of the rain, we took shelter in a lovely little summer pavilion with a swagged roof like a baldachin. Having met before, and all four being keen gardeners, there was none of that initial awkwardness; speaking purely for myself, I enjoyed the trip.

I hope the others did too.

PS: I did not bake the delicious birthday cake shown in the first picture; The village cake baker made it for us.