The Bothy II

I went for a short stroll at the weekend, no power walking, through the grounds of the Bothy wearing my wellies. It was raining. I noted that someone had just got married. There wasn't a discarded white veil or some forgotten confetti strewn across the grounds but a bride and her groom were posing - in the freezing cold - for a photographer, by one of the trees. I saw their guests queuing for food in Avenue House. I waved to them in that friendly English countryfied way that I suddenly adopted which usually happens when you walk in the countryside where other walkers nod and acknowledge you. I have had that happen to me in the remotest of places, like Hadley Wood and Totteridge, oh and Hendon on a Saturday morning.

Back to the Bothy. So I possibly had created the look of the farmer's wife or in my case the farmeress as there was a lot of acknowledgement, nodding and 'good days' going on. Yet, I wasn't wearing a Barbour, driving a Landrover nor does my accent sound like I have a huge hot King Edward in my mouth. Maybe a Prince Albert, on rare occasion. Suddenly the bride ran up to me in her white pumps, now stained by the raindrops, and invited me to her banquet. She then said that it is part of her culture to invite in a stranger even if they are wearing wellies. How Abraham of her, I thought.

Or maybe it was just my tramp-chic look that got to her and I looked like I needed a hot buffet.

I learned that day that it just takes a little stroll up the garden path to encounter a new experience.