Scone, originally a Scottish word stemming from mid-low German or perhaps Dutch “Schoenbrot”
Hellooooo!
Greetings from the land of tea, fat rascals (a type of cake/scone that compliments English tea perfectly), cathedrals of grandeur, rolling hills, cute little train stations, double-decker buses, sheep covered meadows, train shaped hedges, toad in the hole, portcullises, annually flooding pubs and very old buildings. Welcome to the adventures of Bec and Lu as they traverse the western sites of Europe, originating from Fulda and meeting up in York. It is an epic story in the style of all things English; but this part is a pilot made for your enjoyment. If successful, it shall continue for as long as it is in demand.
Scones. (21/2/2006)
As the typically late glistening train rolled into York station, 30 minutes behind schedule, Rebecca leaped joyously from the carriage originating from a long and winding journey, starting at Dublin, that had a scheduled stop at Doncaster that saw a brazen break eating scones pilfered from the inclusive Irish buffet that dewy morning.
With anticipation Lucy searched through the shadowy tinted windows straining to see Rebecca, at the location where they had decided to rendezvous right in the position where the wrought iron structure of the train station almost contained the echoes of the peoples' cries of homecoming. Lucy and Rebecca embraced from the long separation of travelling across the many mountains and seas between Fulda and York. Lucy introduced Rebecca to her sister Kate, and Rebecca unsure of the customary meetings of the English, this Australian maiden decided a dainty hand shaking was in order. So gripping each other’s hands warmly, commented by the oddness of this fact by Lucy, they met and fitted together as if old bosom-friends regularly meeting for tea and cake on a Tuesday mid-morning and gossiping about the most titilising events of the town.
Having to walk up to the transportation that would take everyone to their final destination, a small village on the outskirts of York, Lucy led Rebecca to the market place to meet one of the Matriarchs of the Lucy Robinson family. Lucy and Rebecca traded reminisces of their respective journeys abroad through Geneva and Dublin, along with delighted exclamations that briefly interrupted their narrations. Rebecca was received like an old family member by Lucy's mother who remarked on the oddness of the fact of embracing a guest in the marketplace. Moving outside, onto the rain-dazzled street, the foursome ambled towards the automobile discussing the horridness of travelling by train and airship.
Passing through the small hamlets and villages the four women arrived at the intended home, where Rebecca was shown to her quarters. Refreshed after a long journey, Lucy and Bec met at the top of the stairs and descended together into the dining room both ravenous for the evening meal and shrewdly planning the evening out, where it was decided to penetrate the smoky hubs of the Pitcher and Piano, Ye Old Starre Inn, and the Kings Arms "The Flooding Pub".
At dusk they set out, galavanting back to the nucleus of York, with Lucy behind the driving-aparatus of the automobile, into the night that transcended into an overwelming fog of wine, talking and merrymaking involving old associates of Lucy and local characters.
In the morning, Lucy woke up surprisingly early despite the late night antics, like a radiant ephemeral princess without a black cloud overshadowing her cranial functions. She rapped lightly on Rebecca's door who was also untouched by the wee hours of chaos.
After sampling the foreign dish of a far away land, Lucy and Rebecca once again transcended into the interior of old Yorvik, with a large multi-passenger carrier, where they spent the blue-skied morning unveiling the hidden secrets of "The Shambles" and strolling around the old town wall and eating buttered scones and ginger cake, complimented by fine English teas.
Sprinting without feminity they boarded the York train that forged its way to the quaint Malton station. Lucy and Rebecca disembarked to be greeted by the long awaiting father. Rebecca and Lucy's father became familiar with each other and then they embarked on a journey to the beach at Scarborough.
On arrival at the beach, the crisp, fresh wind entered every nook and cranny of the lightly clothed areas on the body and tickled the two girls pink skin with sharp nailed fingers. Giddy with the salt air, together Lucy and Rebecca gazed over the cleared sandy beach, the startling waves, towards the menacing tower over looking the bay. As if to predict the turn of the feelings, dark, heavy clouds rolled over the dainty blue sky and threw tiny prickly pieces of ice at the Robinson conglomerate piercing the serenity created by the calm and cleared beach of Scarborough. Frantically climbing up the embankment through the winter dormant trees, crowding into the family carriage, the assembly overran the unsuspecting Grandma Robinson abode.
After having a cosy afternoon sipping warm tea, eating fat rascals and discussing the attributes of the Baltic States, the family plus one re-embarked the home, overlooking the village of Snainton, where Lucy showed Rebecca the family excavated pond, and her self-germinated acorn tree.
Walking back towards the house, passed the first blossoming tree of the new season, Lucy gasped...
.................................To be continued..................................
Love from Lu and Bec on Holiday in England
Peace Out!
posted by ICEUS at 8:44 PM
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