Sunday 14th April 1935
Idyllic!
Marjorie came for lunch and thought the village delightful. We went to Windsor – to the castle. “Band playing on the terrace”. We might have been in that fictional land, Ruritania. Military music; people in a sunken garden, palace windows above. Fragrance of many wallflowers. Red coats of the Guardsmen, moving in the crowd. Sunshine. The National Anthem – that wandering populace was still. Marching, gigantic soldiers.
Stopped to look at some ruins near Virginia Water. Marjorie said they were pagan remains. (Actually they are Georgian.) Tea at the Sundial, Chobham. (I was enjoying many pipes of Waverly. One does on a day like this.) Stopped to gather white thorn blossom on the Common. Back to Thorpe. Walked over the Hill. A little stone throwing ceremony at the wishing well. Golden Grove, with the French hostess and Latin atmosphere. The Italian musicians came and played again – vilely.
Came back over the Hill in the dusk (Red sunset glow ahead, through trees). As the clock struck nine we got in the car again; I went as far as Staines Bridge with her. Saw the car turn away and disappear in the traffic off High Street. An idyllic day!
Jolly sequel. Two semi-drunk men stayed at the pub and insisted on standing drinks until about midnight.
Marjorie came for lunch and thought the village delightful. We went to Windsor – to the castle. “Band playing on the terrace”. We might have been in that fictional land, Ruritania. Military music; people in a sunken garden, palace windows above. Fragrance of many wallflowers. Red coats of the Guardsmen, moving in the crowd. Sunshine. The National Anthem – that wandering populace was still. Marching, gigantic soldiers.
Stopped to look at some ruins near Virginia Water. Marjorie said they were pagan remains. (Actually they are Georgian.) Tea at the Sundial, Chobham. (I was enjoying many pipes of Waverly. One does on a day like this.) Stopped to gather white thorn blossom on the Common. Back to Thorpe. Walked over the Hill. A little stone throwing ceremony at the wishing well. Golden Grove, with the French hostess and Latin atmosphere. The Italian musicians came and played again – vilely.
Came back over the Hill in the dusk (Red sunset glow ahead, through trees). As the clock struck nine we got in the car again; I went as far as Staines Bridge with her. Saw the car turn away and disappear in the traffic off High Street. An idyllic day!
Jolly sequel. Two semi-drunk men stayed at the pub and insisted on standing drinks until about midnight.
posted by Paul Wilson at 6:21 pm
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