Bookeys, Bloodymindedness, and Blenheim


Back in England, I am!


Bookeys, Bloodymindedness, and Blenheim

On Tuesday I met up with the Bernard and Beryl combo and we drove to Blenheim, a magnificent and overdone yellow stone palace built by the Duke of Marlborough. Queen Anne and Parliament gave the Duke much acreage and money and said, "build yourself a suitable house." It's quite a place, but everything was a la carte. Want to see the Duke's private residence, "only possible today?" Four pounds, on top of the 8.50 pounds paid at the gate. They force you to exit through a gift shop. There are also the Pleasure Gardens, also extra. The Duke and Duchess pretty ancient, and the photo says it all. It's circa 1974. Big hair, Burbury jacket, etc. It's something of a fashion nightmare and a drag queen's dream.

Bernard is a determined fellow (fairly bloodyminded, actually), and insisted we visit a pub in Noke. Noke is a town that is basically a road lined by 12 houses and a church at the end of the road. There was no pub, and no one in sight. It's hard to feel like you've invaded when the entire town has gone to work for the day. We turned the car around and invaded another pub, where the Bookeys outnumbered the pubmaster 3 to 1.

After that, we went to Oxford, which was also overrun by tourists of many nations. After walking around a bit, Bernard and I returned to the car park to find Beryl. It started raining, finally. We visited my cousin and her two children. Daniel refrained from pointing out how fat I am, calling me burly, or asking me why I don't have children. I couldn't very well tell him, "Because no bloke'll have me, sweetie." But I got through the visit without interrogation, although imparting the notion of America to a four-year-old boy in a London suburb was not easy. We got into the "yes, the Earth is round" thing. Galileo Bookey.

Bernard told me that the younger one recently approached a woman on the street who was wearing a tres chic black rubber raincoat and told her, "You're lucky. Your bin liner's got pockets!"

While the boys finally wound down from trying to do each other in with hula hoops, we three Bookeys left and returned to Radlett for dinner. Beryl cut me some flowers from her garden to bring to Lindsay. I had never seen lavender before (now that's rich irony), and Bernard said, "Lad, you are divorced from nature!"

Well of course I am. I'm a native New Yorker. I was born here. I live here. And there's an excellent chance I will be found dead here.

Posted: Tue - July 13, 1999 at 02:49 AM        

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