We had a wonderful visit to the Upper Barn at Parswell Farm, Tavistock, Devon. How's that for a classic address? The Devon clotted cream flowed freely. I even had clotted cream ice cream with clotted cream on top.
A clotted cream fiend!
The Upper Barn is a very old barn that our friends Sarah and Martin bought a few years ago and renovated. Renovated just doesn't seem to be a big enough word. Don't think barn in Canadian terms (bright red, hemlock board siding, funny shaped roof), think of the kind of barn that some ancient English farmer built a couple hundred years ago to keep livestock in; thick stone walls with huge oak lintels over the doors and windows holding up the wall above it. Think of several hundred years of buildup of the stuff that falls on barn floors (yeah, hay). Think of how the barn would look after not being used for 40 or 50 years. Now you have an idea of the starting point for Martin and Sarah. Here are some snaps of the end result. It is fantastic.
Welcome to Upper Barn, Parswell Farm.
That is the "barn" behind Nancy with " Pendlehenge over her right shoulder on the left edge of the pic.
Sarah and me in front of the "barn."
The kitchen with the coveted Aga stove.
The sitting room.
The whole kitchen.
The next phase of our Eurodash was supposed to be a simple jink over to Europe, either flying, or by train, to go and visit the Spraggs. Our simple jink turned out to be much more difficult than we had planned when the volcano in Iceland started erupting and weather forecasters in the UK forecast ash clouds threatening flight safety. That, and the three day weekend, caused a bit of a rush on the exit points. The threat of cancelled flights caused a run on the trains and ferries, and they all got booked up early leaving us naive Canuck backpackers wondering how we were going to get over to Europe. After some time searching on the internet we found a daytime crossing from Portsmouth to Caen. Fortunately Martin was driving to Portsmouth the next day. That drive saved us from taking a train back up to London and then down to Portsmouth again (London is the centre of the civilized world and all transportation links). Martin dropped us off at a cheap flea bag hotel (the kind we prefer) across the street from the ferry terminal. The Traveller’s Lodge Portsmouth is fairly spartan. We got a bed, TV, bathroom, a toilet that only flushed occasionally, and one towel for $112. No alarm clock or phone, or anything else. Still, we got a great night's sleep. That is really all you need.
Our ferry, run by Brittany Lines, left at 0815 in the morning. We boarded at 0730, found our cabin (the cheapest they offered) and were surprised at how nice it was. Of course anything might look nice after the Traveller's Lodge. Our cabin had two bunks, a desk and an ensuite head with a shower. Sure beat BC Ferries. We ate breakie, napped, had a shower, ate some more, napped all the way to Caen. The winds were howling (force 7 according to the UK met men) and there were lots of green folks around with barf bags, but we successfully negotiated la manche (the channel) staying nice and pink all the way.
My ferry bunk, shades of a past life.
After some busing around Caen we are now on a very fast train to Paris. I hope we can find a place to sleep that doesn't break the bank.
Just saw a guy get arrested because he didn't have a ticket! Three cops (with guns) hustled the perp out of the train car. Interesting. Glad we got it right!
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