Before he recently gave up driving dad was regular visitor to the fortnightly Wye Farmers' Market. Lovely little town in Kent which once had an agricultural college, a number of pubs-still does-former home to mum's favourite restaurant Froggies, home of the Joshan a favoured haunt of Beka and her late dad. And an old church. My curious accident of Facebook I became aware an old school contemporary of mine the aptly named Ravi Holy is vicar.
Like dad I too love Farmers' Markets. Yet given the propensity both my illness and my medication have for excessive sleep I rarely go as they are too early for me on a weekend. But not today.
Despite waking later than planned I drove accompanied by Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld to the Elizabethan Hatfield House for just such a market which was open until 2 pm. Busy but disappointing sadly. Not a huge amount there other than an overabundance of stalls selling jams and chutneys. I didn't need any of those. But I did find a fine cheese and charcuterie stall so emerged with Italian cheese, Parma ham and some chorizo. There was also a French baker from whom I bought some nice bread.
Whilst it was a bit disappointing I did enjoy my little adventure for an unusual Sunday change. Leaving Hatfield House I popped into the lovely Eight Bells pub for a pint of guest beer called Mellow Yellow. Very refreshing.
Home again I have lazed with a glass of Pimm's, my beloved Mozart and the paper. As Idomeneo heads towards its conclusion a chicken is roasting away in the oven. Old fashioned roast chicken is such a marvellous indulgence. And a bottle of Albarino to keep it happy.
Tomorrow a long sleep on my long weekend and a few things in town. I could do with more long weekends. See you in the week.
I Heard a Voice
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