Boozy Bridesmaids' Weekend

Not long ago, I travelled to Cheltenham to spend the weekend with one of my oldest childhood girlfriends. It was a particularly celebratory weekend as she has recently got engaged to her long-term boyfriend, got a new job and moved into a lovely new house (how did we get so old?), so we were naturally buoyed up and ready for a glass or two of fizz to toast her success.

Prosecco is the girly nectar of the moment, and over the course of the whole weekend we actually managed to sample three different brands of the stuff (all in the name of market research, naturally). No wonder our selfie game became progressively squiffy...

We spent all of Saturday evening happily sipping wine, flicking through posh wedding magazines and snacking on endless chocolate viennese biscuits. We also watched a pretty dire Rebel Wilson movie 'How to be Single' (unsurprisingly rated rotten on rotten tomatoes) but the quality of the film didn't matter a bit as I hadn't seen her for months so we had plenty to catch up on.

Sunday morning rolled around and we awoke a little less fresh than we would have preferred (again, how did we get so old?) and spent a lazy morning watching tv in our tartan pjs.

In the afternoon, the other bridesmaids and I had planned a little surprise outing for the bride to be, and after we had coerced her into the obligatory bridal sash, we set off to Hatton Court Hotel for afternoon tea.

Nestled in the heart of the Cotswolds, it's a charming stone country house covered in ivy with big open gardens.

Apologies I didn't get any better photos of the hotel exterior, I was a little embarrassed to act as the resident paparazzi and besides, I was saving sacred space on my memory card for the main event...

Afternoon tea!

Tiny finger sandwiches, scones with cream and jam, homemade jammy dodgers, salted caramel choux buns and tiny bites of carrot cake.

It was all so pretty, none of us could resist getting a little snap happy. We also had the traditional scone (to rhyme with gone) vs scone (to rhyme with cone) debate and disputed whether it was proper to do jam before cream or cream before jam - ground breaking stuff I know, but someone has to sweat the small stuff.

Whichever way you prepare or pronounce scones, there was no arguing over the fact these ones were delicious.

Overall, it was a great afternoon and a lovely way to get to know some of the bridesmaids I hadn't met before. A casual 'pre-hen do' get together seemed like a fantastic way to bond before the big event and we all had a fab time.

Thoroughly stuffed, we had a little stroll in grounds in the sunshine before heading home....

....for another glass  bottle of prosecco...classy girl that she is, she'll kill me for including this photo. After all, what are best friends for!

Instructions for a Heatwave

For the last few days we've been blessed with a rare September heatwave. The newspapers reported that at 31 degrees, Tuesday was the hottest September day in over 100 years...

And what is the number one thing to do when the weather is this beautiful? Get on your bike!

Seriously, the days of pure sunshine on our little green isle are so rare, sometimes the only option is to put down the laptop and just enjoy it. My boyfriend and I took our bikes out and peddled through the lush countryside, enjoying the blue skies and green fields with the sun beating down on our backs.

Our destination was The Kings Head pub in Wadenhoe. It's a very picturesque country pub with tables aligning the River Nene, I would recommend it to anyone as the perfect spot for a sunny day. That said, it also boasts a cosy interior for when the weather becomes more wintery and chilly. My family and I sometimes go there around Christmas time for a drink after taking my niece sledging on the nearby Wadenhoe hill. 

We initially planned to stop for lunch but unfortunately the pub wasn't serving food that day (a shame, as they do a great steak and chips), so there was only natural solution...

Liquid lunch!!

Two (*ahem* four) glasses of cool, frosty English cider were the perfect thirst-quenching remedy to the morning's exercise.

Nothing else to do but lazily stretch out and watch the occasional canal boat chug past.

After a few hours happily chatting and soaking up the booze and sunshine, we decided it was high time to cool off - countryside style!

Ditching our clothes on the river bank, we leaped into the refreshingly chilly water. 

Only a tiny bit terrified of contracting Weil's disease, the overall experience was very pleasant.  The water was crystal clear and the trees provided a welcome shady canopy. My boyfriend ducked out after a few minutes, but I was happy to stay in the water for a little while longer.

Later, thoroughly refreshed and now completely famished, we cycled home (only slightly wobbly) in search of sustenance.

In the form of a giant pizza to share and the number one remedy for a heatwave....

You already know it's ice cream. In this case pistachio, strawberry mascarpone and coconut and nutella ripple from Salernos (dream).

Happy heatwave everybody! I hear it's due to rain solidly now for the rest of the week...

Take me back to...Koh Rong Sanloem

It's hard to believe that just over a month ago my boyfriend Alex and I were in the gorgeous desert island of Koh Rong Sanloem. Cambodia was the penultimate country on our trip and somewhat of a 'wild card' for us as we had initially planned to spend the last few weeks of our travels in the Philippines (another story).

After spending a delightfully adventurous week in Kampot tearing around on a motorbike and stuffing ourselves with as many dishes drowned in the local speciality lime and peppercorn sauce* as we could ingest, we were in need of some R&R and headed for the untouched paradise of white sand and cobalt water that is Koh Rong Sanloem.

      * One of the aforementioned pepper dishes included the (surprisingly tasty?) crispy tarantulas with chilli, pepper and           lime.

The boat ride to Koh Rong Sanloem was not the easiest nor the most pleasant journey of our trip. We shuffled like bewildered cattle from the aptly named Autonomous Port in Sihanoukville onto a ropy local passenger ferry via a wobbly wooden plank. I say aptly named, as the dictionary defines autonomous as "the freedom to govern itself or control its own affairs" and we  certainly witnessed no sign of anyone showing the slightest interest in organising or controlling our affairs in any way, least of all directing us to the correct boat or letting us know the departure time of the ferry.

Despite the initial chaos, when we eventually managed to board with our bodies and luggage in tact, we were greeted with a very foreboding sign telling us to 'Keep Silence'. Luckily we saw the funny side and spent the rest of the (very choppy) trip to the island in high spirits.

Stepping off the boat, our first sighting of Koh Rong Sanloem was breathtaking. The crystal clear water and soft sandy beaches were offset by the gorgeous surrounding mountainous landscape. The island is tiny, and the shore is mostly unspoiled by tourism, with just a peppering of rustic beach huts.

We stayed at the Sweet Dreams resort which I would highly recommend to anyone who wants to stay on Koh Rong. The hotel is made up of charming bungalows, each with a huge glass front wall so you can gaze out at the stunning sea view while still tucked up in bed with your morning coffee. The owners were two Bulgarian brothers who insisted on carrying our heavy backpacks from Koh Rong Port to the hotel and provided us with free red wine with our dinner.

After dumping our bags in our beach bungalow, we decided it was high time to take a walk along the beach and explore our new home. Now it must be said, that due to the lack of tourism on Koh Rong Samloem, there are not a lot of activities to do, so we each took a good book with us and decided to spend the afternoon relaxing.

We were not disappointed with the number of beautiful chill-out spots...

After a few satisfying hours reading, the storm clouds that had been threatening most of the afternoon finally burst and we were forced to take shelter in our little beach hut. We spent the rest of the day in an enjoyably relaxed fashion sipping ice cold beer on our balcony and playing cards.

The next morning we awoke to bright rays of sunshine streaming through our window. After a delicious breakfast of pancakes, fresh fruit and the strongest coffee I have ever tasted, we excitedly threw on our swimmers and headed for the sea.

The sun was bright and warm and I happily took the opportunity to stretch out in the shallows and top up my tan...

Strolling along hand in hand, we barely encountered another soul and felt like we had the whole island to ourselves. We sadly reflected that if we were to return here in 10 years time, the whole place will likely have descended into a tourist trap complete with nightclubs, multi-storey hotels and endless brick-a-brack shops such as has happened to it's 'big sister' island Koh Rong. Some places are perhaps best done just the once.

For now though, Koh Rong Sanloem is an extraordinary picturesque slice of paradise. I enjoyed it so much, this was my reaction on being told it was time to leave!

Autumn Blackberry Picking

The first week of September is consistently one of my favourite periods of the year. The daylight changes from a pale yellow to a rich gold, the green leaves are transformed to red, gold and bronze and ripe fruit bursts from the trees and in the hedgerows.

It is a period I always symbolise with a 'back to school' fresh start kind of feeling but it also always feels strangely melancholy as if all the frantic energy of summer has been hushed to make way for a slice of quiet Autumn peace.

It is also the time for blackberry picking!

We descended along the track behind the house in search of ripe brambles. The fields were full of long swishy grass and Piper and I couldn't resist a little frolic.








Before pausing for a beat just to stand and admire the view.



Mum and I saw a few of the last summer swallows dipping low over the field. We marvelled, as we always do, at the six week, six thousand mile journey to Africa these tiny birds are about to complete. A love of the British countryside and appreciation of the 'small things' seems to be intensifying in me with each passing year.

Rounding the corner from the grass fields, we spied the first glimpse of the bramble hedgerow we came for. As early foragers of the season, we had our pick of the bunch.





We spent the next hour happily raiding the hedgerows and filling our punnets with the sweet and sharp berries. For me, one of the oldest joys of fruit picking is eating the produce straight off the plant. As children, if taken strawberry picking at the local fruit farm, my siblings and I would sneak away from the unsuspecting accompanying adult and work to a strict 'one for the punnet, two for me' policy. These days, I hear they weigh children before and after entering fruit farms and charge the bewildered parents if they leave the farm any heavier - talk about sucking the joy out of precious childhood experiences!






I was a dedicated brambler and felt the lure of the plumpest shiniest fruit at the very top of the hedgerow despite the risk of thorny scratches and a stained shirt (both of which I got). Soon our punnets were fit for bursting and we were ready to head for home.



Now, blackberries mean one of two things - crumble or pie. I am an enthusiastic advocate of both, but this year we decided on pie. I was sent outside to fetch the ripened apples from the garden...





Our apple trees are very well behaved and produce a bumper crop of fruit each year, but supermarket cooking apples would work just as well.

Apples and blackberries collected, I started work on the pie. The recipe is very simple (the best kind) and consists of chopping the fruit, filling a pastry case, dusting with sugar and using extra pastry to construct a lattice decoration for the top.



Once your pie has been put together, brush with an egg-wash and a further sprinkle of sugar and bung it in the oven for around 45 minutes.







It should emerge golden and bubbling and dying to be served and eaten with cold vanilla ice cream.

Which is exactly what we did!

Burghley Horse Trials 2016

Today we went on our annual family pilgrimage to the Land Rover Burghley Horse Trials. It's one of the three 'Grand Slam' equestrian events of the year along with Badminton and the Rolex Kentucky Three-Day Event. Although Kentucky is a little far to travel, thankfully Burghley is held in the heart of Stamford and just on our doorstep. I've attended every year, rain or shine, since early childhood.


I woke early this morning bright eyed and bushy-tailed but with a conundrum, there is an annual dilemma on what is an appropriate outfit to wear to Burghley. Although it is essentially stomping around a muddy field, most people really pull out the country-fashion stops and you can expect to be greeted with a sea of Dubarry boots, Ralph Lauren and natty tweed twin-sets. I went for something in the middle of my conservative normal and uniform posh - denim skirt, leather boots, pashima and trilby - my sister declared I looked 'insane' but it was worth it (if a little chilly).








As soon as we arrived in the grounds of Burghley House, a grand sixteenth-century country manor house, we heard the noise of the steward's whistles announcing a horse and rider were about to thunder past. We took our places near some enormous fences and watched the skilled eventers put their mounts through their paces...










The skill and bravery of these riders never ceases to amaze me! It must take a lot of guts to steer a four-legged beast with a mind and agenda of it's own at a five foot wall of solid wood, brick, or, in this case, boat. In my riding days as a child, I remember feeling intense butterflies before the local gymkhana so it really puts the expertise of three-day event riders into perspective.


After a morning watching the horses and wandering aimlessly around the course, we were feeling peckish and headed towards the food court in search of lunch. As Burghley is a celebration of country craft, the food options were plentiful and delicious. Here are just a few snapshots of the cuisine on offer...





Enormous wheels of stinky cheese...






A gargantuan vat of saffron Paella with seafood, rabbit, pork and white flaky fish...





Piles of vibrant, organic summer strawberries...


Mum plumped for the Paella, but I'm a burger kind of girl!




I went for Farmhouse Direct's 'Burghley Special Burger' which consisted of Aberdeen Angus beef, melty cheese, fried onions and a delicious spicy tomato relish. The fact that I didn't take the time to photograph it before tucking in is testament to just how yummy it was.


Followed, of course, by the main event...pudding!







Three delicious crumbly chocolate brownies from the brownie company. We went for peanut butter, salted caramel and pecan (although there were lots of other mouth-watering options) AND a nougat and apricot whorl. All washed down with a cup of piping hot coffee. I would like to say that we didn't eat all of these desserts (*cough* and some non-photographed Tom's cookie dough fudge) but it's my first blog post and I don't want you and I to get off on the wrong foot by lying to you.


The good old British rain had started to set in hard but Page ladies are rarely faint-hearted. In that spirit, we donned our macs and peeped out at a few more of the horses from underneath the shelter of a large oak tree.







The rain did not put many spectators off, especially those who had foresight to bring an umbrella, so we followed the crowds trudging across the sodden turf and watched the last few horses gallop past.

Despite or perhaps because of the gloomy British weather, I decided I required lemonade to bolster my spirits.







The Old Fashioned Lemonade Company does the best lemonade around in my opinion - part citrus sharp, part sickly sweet, the kind of lemonade that evokes memories of the 'good old days' when, as a child, you could mix raw lemon juice with a bucket full of sugar and flog it for £1.50 to any kindly and foolish adult that may stumble across your entrepreneurial efforts.





Tired, soggy and buoyed up by sugar, we decided it was time to head home.

A good time, as agreed by all, had been had and we vowed to return next year and every year. We returned home to a piping hot cup of tea and an enthusiastic greeting from my Springer spaniel Piper. Until next year Burghley!