Skip to main content

Country Hotel



The holiday voucher is handed over at reception. Tea and scones are available. In the room a fine tassel hangs from a wardrobe key. Complimentary sherry in cut glass. Sash windows overlook carved owls, flagstones, lawn, curls of distant cloud.
A walk next: an exploration of Brent Knoll's steep gradient.
Curiosity is a great propellant.
The sky gods: feisty, buffeting, sending footprints off at quirked angles.
At the summit are craters, a grassed over moon surface. A 360 view spins, right to left, left to right, until it gets dizzy.
Path is a slipway of mud and water. A brook bubbles up and all the way back down to earth and a warm country hotel.
There is chintzy print and lampshades strung with beads.
Yes, lampshades wearing jewellery: seven courses on the taster menu; liberal use of balsamic: merlot unbottled, lemon cleansed palates, fat bottomed brandy glass, cutlery shining in low light.



Comments

Geo. said…
A room full of color and comfort! I can feel it from here. Curiosity is a great propellant, I concur. Must remember that in times of flatulence --sounds more excusable.
3 February 2014 at 04:36
Lisa Southard said…
Beans are the best means for curious propulsions :-)
3 February 2014 at 09:52
Heather Robinson said…
Oh that sounds heavenly, just what the doctor ordered...save for a few too many knives for me to work my American little head around...
I love the red shoe/leopard print combination as well.
4 February 2014 at 18:07
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
2 comments
Read more

Back From The Future Blog Party

Another joint blog adventure- if you want to see who else said what the list of participants is here . The premise is this: 'You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you. You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself. What's in it?' Here's how I imagined it: Before dawn? Shadows outside, first forming. Sleep has gone, I don't know where. Coffee I can find. All the way from Machu Pichu, this fair-traded pack. Scissors are in the drawer, which ...
26 comments
Read more

Hometime Foam Time

It was hot outside, cold indoors. When we were freed from the hall I opened my car thinking oven gloves might be required for driving. I was weary. I was lined up for a row of shifts- but the evenings are lighter now, and the beach was calling. I drove a wiggly route to Veryan (the road I chose was closed) and down to Carne Beach. Since I had checked the weather the wind had turned easterly, and the tide was in. There were waves smacking over a disappearing line of fine sand. Undeterred I wriggled my swimsuit on and went to play in the foam.  Neither air nor sea was particularly cold. Blue and cloud patterned sky, blue and turquoise patterned sea, flowers blooming and swooshed by the wind, and the warm brown crags of rock: to be here was to be directly connected to the source of all existence.  Home time was foam time, and vice versa. Afterwards I sat in my car, door open, eating a square of dark chocolate, watching the white flecks and trying to work out if the dark dot was a...
Post a Comment
Read more