we’re off

I can­not tell you how I have been LONG­ING for a break with my beloved. We have not been away togeth­er (Christ­mas at home in Con­necti­cut does not count) since Octo­ber, and we’re des­per­ate. We’ll have with us, of course, our child and her best friend, leav­ing on Mon­day to Lin­colnshire, a place none of us has ever been, to spend a bliss­ful (we hope) four days explor­ing, read­ing, enjoy­ing each oth­er’s unin­ter­rupt­ed com­pa­ny not accom­pa­nied by iCal, iPhone, iPho­to, iTunes, or any oth­er i‑insurgent. Just the four of us (and, I’m hop­ing quite often just the two of us while two lit­tle girls find oth­er things to do) on our own in the Eng­lish coun­try­side. I think it will be lamb­ing sea­son, or close to it. We’re hop­ing for a close expo­sure to some new sheeply mothers.

As for food? I am pack­ing away home­made pesto, a bag full of can­dles and match­es to light our din­ners, a side of salmon, an arm­ful of sausages from the Gig­gly Pig from my beloved local mar­ket (“3 for a ten­ner, love, even in this rain!” the love­ly girl shout­ed yes­ter­day, I suc­cumbed), a dish of mac­a­roni and cheese as is our tra­di­tion on arriv­ing at Land­mark Trust hous­es. We’ll arrive, I’ll leave my near­est and dear­est to unload the car while I take in the mac­a­roni and cheese and sausages, light the oven and the can­dles, make the kitchen our home for the dura­tion. They will set­tle in (max­i­mum laugh­ter now that we’ll have two girls instead of one), my hus­band will light the open fire promised in the sit­ting room… with­in 45 min­utes the bub­bling, brown­ing aro­ma of mac and cheese will per­me­ate the house and we’ll be… HOME. I’ll see you next week, unless some­thing earth-shat­ter­ing hap­pens in between. Of course, tomor­row night’s air­ing of “Robin Hood” near­ly counts… Have a love­ly week.