Day 5

Dear friends,

I am having the most wonderful time here in the town of Elberton, just outside of Bristol. Our hosts, the Bankses, have graciously welcomed us into their home—and what a home it is! But first, let me start where last I left off, with our impending departure from London.

The morning of day the fifth of our grand adventure, found my sister and I in a cab, in traffic, trying to reach the train station by our train’s 10:15 a.m. departure. We arrived at nearly 10:10. A slight mishap at the ticket retrieval kiosk almost derailed the whole venture. The distance to Platform 3 seemed insurmountable, but luggage in hand, a brief jog through the station had us in our seats at exactly 10:15. We were still panting and laughing with much relief when the train began to roll away from the platform.

The countryside we passed on the way to Bristol was picturesque: green pastures, cows dotting the rolling hills, blue sky (finally! the weather has been a bit dismal these past few days). This trip marked the first occurrence at which Diana rode aboard a moving vehicle and did not go to sleep. Our uncle was waiting for us at the station. I hadn’t seen him in such a long time.

Driving through the gates of Elberton Old Manor, for that is what it is called (it has no address! Can you imagine?) was a bit overwhelming. For it is a true English manor—over 500 years old, all stone and staircases and low doorways and wild gardens and hedgerows and stables.  A little white terrier barked at us as we pulled up next to the Mini Cooper and the Jaguar (pronounced ‘jag – you – uh’ the propah British way) in the gravel driveway. After letting Diana and I peacefully settle which of the two rooms we were to sleep in (I ended up in the blue room with the spider hanging contentedly in the corner, Diana in the green room with the snail stuck on the wall), our uncle gave us the grand (GRAND) tour. Each room is impeccably decorated, each garden (there are three) kept likewise by a heavily-accented, grizzled old gardener named Graeme.

And there are animals here. So many animals! The Bankses’ three dogs are the home’s most obvious presence: Penny—the matriarch, if you will—is a sweet old thing whom I remember from when she was just a puppy; Bruno, a big, brown bear of a creature, who my uncle claims is “dumb as a post” and who has an incurable habit of repeatedly putting one massive paw on you; and Samson, a black lab mix who is apparently as smart as Bruno is not, and who always carries at least one, if not two toys in his mouth at all times. There are also two cats: Zorro, who, in addition to being an incredibly affectionate feline, is an excellent mouser who specializes in decapitating rabbits; and Polly, a 21-year-old black cat who came with the house and who follows Graeme everywhere. And then there are the ponies: Mickey, who recently broke my cousin Charlotte’s shoulder; Whisper, who is cheeky; General Go Go, who has a fantastic name; and Bert, who is vain. My cousins both competitively ride, and they have a practice course in the back of the grounds. But more on that later.

Following a lovely lunch in the sun, my sister and I were left to explore the house, which we did with gusto until Diana retired for a nap. I then spent the afternoon wandering about, camera in hand, feeling as if I were part of a fairy story. The gardens must be enchanted: I swear I can hear faeries flitting about in the trees just out of sight. There is also one gnome here, but more on that later as well. Doors covered in ivy promise secret gardens; tucked away paths half-hidden by foliage suggest magical adventures to be had. I can’t even imagine growing up here, it is just too unreal.

Dinner with the whole family was wonderful. Separated as we are usually by an ocean’s distance, our cousins and us rarely have seen one another. My cousins Charlotte and Elektra are delightful—we are quite green with envy of their British accents. Both my aunt and uncle are fabulous cooks, and we were really quite full by the end of the meal—however, there was always room for pudding, a concept which caused some confusion on Diana’s part. If you are not aware, “pudding” is the catch-all term for dessert here. When my sister saw just what we were actually eating, she changed her “No thank you” to a “Is there one more chocolate pudding I can have?” The puddings, as Diana discovered, were in fact little lava cakes. I had sticky toffee--it was heavenly.

Late that night, I bathed in truly the most amazing tub, while voyeuristic moths banged against the glass windowpane beside. While attempting to write to you, dear readers, in bed after, I began to doze, and had to leave off ‘til morning. Never have I slept in a more comfortable bed. In fact, my eyelids begin to droop just now. I’d best be getting to sleep.

Until tomorrow then,

A

Exhausted following our unexpected exercise.

Diana by the window in her room.

Did I not mention? There is a little church quite literally next door to Elberton Old Manor, the spire of which can be seen here, and the cemetery of which can be viewed from my eldest cousin's bedroom window.