Move with the Cheese

I woke up wanting something different. I won’t say I was sick of English breakfasts, but I had to switch it up. Amanda must have felt the same because we both ordered salmon. Salmon and scrambled eggs for her, and I had salmon eggs Benedict. We packed up and went out into the rain. We found ourselves in a precarious parking position in the bed and breakfast car park. Cars in Europe are smaller, but so are the roads and spaces for them. I did a little directing, but she had to complete the full reverse with a twist finale on her own. Eventually, she did it. It was stressful and she said she shaking. She wanted something sweet after that. Fair enough. First stop was the Bath Town Centre. The Fine Cheese Shop. I walked in from the rain and right up to the counter. I wanted to try some local cheeses. A very helpful chap told me about some cheeses. Most of which went in one ear and out the other.  I can’t remember the history of every fucking cheese in Southwest England. Sorry. The first one was a cheddar. A Montgomery cheddar aged at least 1 year. The second was a Bath organic soft cheese that had a mushroom flavor and looked like a Brie. I asked for a blue cheese for a third selection. He gave me a Bath blue. He said “it’s kind of a big deal. “ I will admit at this moment, that I had no idea how much this would cost. I found this place in British Food Magazine article online, and it was listed number one, so it had some prestige. I was cool, but I imagined the possible scenarios if this was super expensive. We had a flight to Dublin this evening. Can you fly to another country with cheese? Would Amanda carry it in her bag? Would she be demanding I throw my cheese away? Would it stink up the plane? Would I find myself in a situation later where I was frantically flushing cheese down a toilet? why would I be doing that? I didn’t know. It was cheese. How expensive could it be? What would you like for a fourth? He asked. Are you crazy? I thought. Actually, that’s it I said. Let’s just wrap this up. When he said 9 pounds, I was relieved, but felt silly for my wayward thoughts. Life doesn’t hand you cheese. You have to move with the cheese. 

Wanting to eat my cheese, we sat on the café side after Amanda ordered coffee and toast. Amanda liked the cheddar the best. The soft cheese actually had a mushroomy flavor. The blue cheese that is “kind of a big deal” was the best blue cheese I’ve ever had. Trust me. I know these things. After our tasting, Amanda bought a couple of macaroons. Strawberry macaroons. The rain had lightened up for our walk back. 

Next stop was Farleigh Hungerford Castle, which is supposedly Amanda’s ancestral roots. She had always believed she was 100% Portuguese. However, she took an Ancestry DNA test and discovered that she had a significant British lineage. She traced ancestors back to the War of the Roses, and Farleigh Hungerford Castle. Allegedly. I did my DNA and didn’t get results nearly that detailed or extensive. Maybe Irish peasants were too busy working to keep good records compared to my wife’s royal bloodline. 

It didn’t appear that anyone was here, except for a few other tourists. As we walked from the car park, Amanda declared “I hope we see someone, so I can tell them I’m here to take back what is rightfully mine with fire and blood.” Ok babe. I wanted to find someone so badly and relay the message. I wonder how a sweet old lady in the gift shop would have reacted - I was going to quit last week, but you seem so nice, I’m here to serve you, my Queen what is your bidding? We didn’t see a gift shop though, or anybody that seemed to work there. Disappointing. We checked out the chapel, Priests’ House, and crypts, which were locked. Better to keep the dead from escaping, I reckon. 

We decided to skip Stonehenge mainly due to time. I didn’t really care because I’d been there before. The only thing I’ve been wondering is did Stonehenge have a roof?

We had quite an interesting drive to Reading for lunch while listening to BBC2 radio. I guess high school students were anticipating exam results that were being released the following day. Various people called in to give their opinions on the exam/university process. More interesting however, was the bit about Cycling Mikey. Mikey is a cycling vigilante- his Twitter bio states “not a vigilante” - he rides around London wearing his body camera. He confronts and discourages motorists from unsafe driving practices. Mainly driving cars in bicycle lanes. He’s made it his mission to report unsafe driving behavior, and his videos have millions of views and he’s turned over hundreds of video reports to police. Apparently, they have been taking action. He’s obviously very polarizing, and Amanda said the segment was trending on Twitter. 

Our last stop in England before flying to Dublin was in Reading to have lunch and fill our gas tank. Amanda had found a place called Sweeney & Todd, which served meat pies. I thought they sounded excellent. Amanda ran to the toilet- that’s what they’re called here. Not my preferred term, but I’ll go with it. However, as someone who must take medication to suppress my immune system and is ultra weary of germs, referring to the bathroom as toilets is madness. Ever heard of dinks and hand washing? It drives me bananas, and I find it vulgar. 

While she was gone, the world’s oldest server approached me. I ordered a water for Amanda and Diet Coke for myself. And this is when I believe there was an attempt on my life. That’s right, an assassination. I’m certain they tried to poison me. Later, at the airport, my blood sugar was sky high. The only possible explanation was that grandma didn’t hear me say diet. It’s the only thing that would make sense. 

Back to lunch, Amanda ordered the steak and ale pie and I had the steak and oyster. I haven’t had an abundance of meat pies in my life, so when I say this, it is with an unwavering certitude. This was the best meat pie I’ve ever had. I don’t like it when the pastry is flaky. This was moist and savory. I burned my tongue, but it was a nice lunch. 

When we reached the airport, we had to rearrange some things in our bags before checking them. We also had cheese and untouched strawberry macaroons. Standing near the check-in kiosks, she’s inhaling strawberry macaroons, and I’m sorting through my wrapped up cheeses jonesin for one more taste of blue. Then we tossed the wrappers and flew to Dublin. 

My mother and my bother Mike are minding the boys, so meanwhile at home...