Back to England -- In My Mind

Well, with a couple of exceptions, I left off blogging in the middle of England (geographically as well as mid-trip) -- in Sheffield to be exact.  I need to finish recording that trip here before I forget everything, and really, the north of England is beautiful, absolutely worth a visit for anyone considering a European destination, so I thought I would share those memories with anyone who still cares to stop by this poor neglected URL.

DORE

After traipsing around my Dad's old haunts in downtown Sheffield, we headed to the very nearby town of Dore, to visit English family of my aunt Dot (formally Dorothy, but she could never go by that in a million years). Here they are:

Mary, in the center with my mom, is Dot's sister in law, and a very spry 86. To her left is her daughter Jane, with Jane's husband Duncan just behind.  Kate (not pictured because she had to leave before lunch), is Jane and Duncan's daughter, had just become a Solicitor -- an english lawyer that does anything and everything but appear in court.

After a lovely visit in Mary's home, we wandered off with her, Duncan and Jane to the center of Dore, which is quite the quaint little town.

There we dined at a true English pub, the Hare and Hound (really, can there be anything more quintessential than that?), where we had Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding. It was was fabulous, as was the hearty laughter that only the self-deprecating British can truly achieve.

Memories of my Grandma Winnie flooded through me as we ate.  She had cooked dinner for us almost every Sunday of my youth, and more often than not it involved a very good helping of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, smothered in gravy, with a vegetable side, usually carrots or peas. Crowded around the small round table in her modest kitchen, we ate every last scrap of the pudding and every last drop of gravy, only peripherally aware of its roots in this distant land.  It remains one of my favorite dishes to this day (along with her Chicken Pot Pie), and I will never turn it down when given the opportunity.

We spent only a few hours with Mary, Duncan and Jane, but there is something about family in another country, no matter how distant the connection--even a short time together seals a bond that you hardly new existed before meeting.  The fibers of your DNA just seem to know that these people are a part of you, and that really means something, even if you have never seen them before, and may never see them again.  It was a very sad goodbye after we finished.  Dad is so fond of Mary and her family, and the likelihood that he would not see them again, paired with the love and connection he felt for them, hung heavy in the air.  Yet what a wonderful thing it is to love other people, and share a Sunday brunch with them, as if thousands of miles and decades of time don't matter much at all.

A last note for the record -- turns out in addition to being quaint, Dore is historically significant as well.  Here in 829 the "must have been tough as nails with that name" King Eggbert defeated King Eanred of Northumbria, becoming the first Overlord of all England.  Here is the sign to prove it:

With that, it is off to York.