We love High Streets;
In America I think the equivalent would be downtown although there is an old 60’s single by British singer Petula Clark called Downtown probably back then referring to the main high street of the town she lived in.
There are cafe’s to visit for a sandwich or a piece of cake (or both) with a latte when we are tired of walking.
There are graveyards where my favourite people rest;
The one in Shoreham, at my uncle’s request, is close to the airport where he kept his plane. He wanted to be in the flight path…and he is.
It is hidden in a quiet quad in the middle of a village; peaceful and pretty.
My parents’ grave is in an old cemetery in Beckenham on the grounds of our local parish church when we’re visiting.
Stones from the 1700’s can be found either forming the pathways through the grounds or still standing, albeit a little wobbly, among the other tombs in the graveyard.
The High Street in Kew was a cafe Daughts and I had first discovered twelve years ago when I took her, as light relief, to check on my Mum. We had taken a break from London and caught the train into Kew to walk the gardens and photograph the whomping willow used in one of the Harry Potter films. Then we travelled back on the Thames Ferry…of course it was raining…nothing new in England.
After walking through Kew Gardens, which is now on a flight path too only this one is commercial and very noisy completely ruining the tranquility Daughts and I had experienced some years ago, Hubs and I went to the Kew Greenhouse Cafe, which thankfully hadn’t changed a bit.
We sent a picture to Daughts and asked,
“Remember this?”
She immediately texted back with, “Of course!”
We enjoyed a piece of savoury pie and a nice pot of tea.
followed by a scone with jam and clotted cream,
Our next high street was visited on a dreadfully stormy day in the village of Rottingdean near Brighton. Walking up to my friend’s house we passed these bright pink signs advertising cream teas.
We walked on in favour of a lovely luncheon followed by tea and a piece of cheesecake with lively conversation. Margaret, my old neighbour from London when I still lived with my parents, is always so thrilled to see us and just loves talking to Hubs about America and her time spent there as a radio announcer.
We survived the gale force winds buffeting us on the way back down the lane to wait for our bus.
Safely back on our old stomping ground we visited our favourite pub in Beckenham.
Always a good meeting place before popping across the road for fish and chips or a good Indian curry.
We went to Broadstairs for old time’s sake and to call in on my Aunt. We remembered this pub at the bottom of the high street where we would go with the children during the summer. In England there is usually a beer garden and a playground for the kiddos and a good draught for the adults.
There are always family owned restaurants along a high street, everything from breakfast,
to dinner,
or birthday celebrations,
Friday night fish and chips,
or just because…
The walking culture in London and the surrounding areas is very conducive to immersing ourselves into the English culture.
We’d say to the children,
“We can’t go to any fast food restaurants or coffee shops that can be found in America. We can’t eat any sweets or chips that can be bought from American shelves.”
It makes us feel less like visitors and more like locals.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
