At one stage it looked as though this last Saturday was going to be quite a busy one. We were coming into Sheffield in the morning, following my 09:00 hair trim. Then there was the usual shopping and general Saturday things, not to mention tidying up the house for visitors. It looked as though it was going to take some careful planning if everything was to get done.
Then Sheffield was cancelled (but it's all right - I don't think anyone noticed the abrupt disappearance of one of England's larger cities!)
So I had my hair cut, then we went to Chatsworth, getting there just ahead of the December crowds. We came home and tidied up. And eventually had quite a peaceful afternoon playing Scrabble (online, I hasten to add) and doing things and generally pottering.
At about 6:00 we heard a rattling out the back. The cat sat upright - and bolted for the back door. I'm sure he has some guard dog in him; he is an exceptionally good guard cat!! We assumed it was Bea and Steve, who were expected at about that time. But no. There was nothing to be seen. Someone next door, putting rubbish out. Or a fox rattling the door or the recycling bin. But not Bea and Steve, who turned up about 5 minutes later.
We were off to the Three Horseshoes for a Festive Feast. We had booked a taxi so no one had to worry about driving home. We had selected our menu choices a couple of weeks back. We were all ready and quite happy – always excepting that The Builder and I were aware that this might be the last time we would see Mike, Margaret and Damien. The taxi driver did not try to drive us all around the houses. All was well. Until we got to the Three Horseshoes and found it all in darkness, all locked up and with a huge To Let sign out the front ;-( Events must have moved faster than they had anticipated. No festive feast for us.
We might have tried The Nettle, or maybe even the Red Lion (which we haven’t been in since a remarkably unsatisfactory visit two or three years ago, although I believe it now has a new owner and it is getting good reviews in the local papers). But it didn’t seem likely that we were going to get a table at no notice on a Saturday evening so close to Christmas. And there is a limit to how much purposeless touring around you want to do if you are in a taxi. We went home.
Very fortuitously, I happened to have a rather nice piece of topside in the fridge. I had acquired it from Farmer Jayne and had set it aside for Sunday lunch. It would just have to be pressed into service for Saturday dinner. I scrambled to get the oven on and the meat ready. The Builder sorted out potatoes and some veg. I made a Yorkshire pudding batter and flung it into the coldest part of the fridge. Bea poured wine and beer, Steve helped to set the table. I got some apple and some gooseberries from the freezer and set them to bake in an earthenware casserole.
And somewhat to my surprise at a little after half past eight we sat down to a perfectly respectable roast meal with even a Yorkshire pudding which had risen very obediently (although I usually leave the batter in the fridge for much longer). We had our stewed fruit with some cream I had extremely fortuitously picked up at Chatsworth. We had lots and lots of wine and/or beer. It was a lovely evening, enlivened only by Bea trying to choke to death on a piece of beef, and imbued with a gentle sadness that Mike, Margaret and Damien had gone and we hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye.
But I really should have acted on the impulse I had had when we went to Chatsworth in the morning to suggest that we drive past the pub and check for signs of life. I didn’t, because I thought they would ring if they had had to close earlier than they had expected. But I guess if you have to close earlier than expected, and presumably also have to move out sooner than expected, then you probably have more things on your mind than ringing The Builder and me to tell us about it.
Bea and Steve went home after breakfast on Sunday morning.
We do not, as a general rule, buy the Derbyshire Times. Although we should do because it has all sorts of useful pieces of information tucked inside it. But The Builder is intending to sell Oscar and was considering putting an ad in the paper (though he is now giving vague consideration to selling both cars and buying a single something else at a dealer. I have not told The Vixen this!!) So he had bought the paper to look at the car ads.
I did not look at the car ads. But I did read the news and other reports. And thus discovered that Haddon Hall, having closed for the winter during October, was open last week up until Sunday for a Tudor celebration of Christmas. Sunday was a simply glorious day, even if a touch on the cold side. We decided to go for a look.
We drove past the Three Horseshoes. Definitely closed and deserted.
Haddon was not closed and deserted. There were loads of cars in the car park and lots of people wandering about. There was a brass band playing carols in the courtyard (somewhat anachronistically - although if you want anachronism you can't go past the huge glitter ball hung in the front parlour and surrounded by yew and holy and candles in a big wreath!!). There was no snow on the ground, which felt sort of wrong, somehow. In fact, the house was bathed in sunshine. Really, really wrong, that! But the chapel was decorated with ivy and holly and yew, and there were orange pomanders hanging on ribbons from the pews. There were fires burning in the house, and carol singers in the hall. There were greenery and candles all over the house. There was a banquet table laid out with Tudor foods made in salt dough. The long gallery had more of a Victorian feel to it, with a nod towards the 1930s. It was all rather lovely.
We had a wander in the gardens – and were pleased to note that a more suitable weather front was coming in. Then we headed to Chatsworth with a view to buying some chicken fillets to replace the piece of topside. But the queue to get into the farm shop was so long we decided not to bother and to have the piece of pork I was going to cure into ham instead. But we did go home via The Nettle to make sure that it was open ands till thriving. It is clearly still open – the car park was almost full.
And the roast pork was delicious. I am still determined to get to grips with ham and bacon curing. It can’t be that difficult. But I don’t really have a pressing need. Farmer Jayne is bringing us a ham next week, in time for Christmas. I hope none of our Yuletide visitors have any objection to eating pork, for I seem to have quite a pork-centred menu this year. (I know Freyja does, but she doesn’t eat any meat. I have alternatives for her!)
Four days (not counting today) to go until I stop for my winter holiday. I am much looking forward to it. It’s been a busy semester and I am quite tired.
You will find the Haddon Hall photos here
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