Old houses days 11 and 12

One last day of tourism, then home. I got off the train in Crawley yesterday and walked about a mile to the hotel, 80 degrees, sunny, mostly uphill, so sweaty. It turned out to be a superficially nice hotel hiding a layer of filth and neglect, so it was the only sour note of the trip, but I accept at least some of the blame for that.

In the morning I was picked up once again by the delightful Viv, who drove me to see some local village sights before we went to Penshurst. Penshurst Place dates back to the 14th century and sees some action as a film location. As with all these houses, the gardens are magnificent. As usual, I was textile-focused.

In a church. Translates to something like "following his allotted fate"

A little stage at left, with seating on the slope at right

The family symbol. They also liked to put pircupines on everything.

The ghostly outlines of former wall paintings

Costumes from "The Other Boleyn Girl "

My guide claims the big pompoms are to absorb blood before it can make the shaft slippery.

Tiny pintucks on a doll's dress

Henry leering at another doll in the toy museum on site.

Fancy gate

Last stop was Hever, known for Ann Boleyn/Bullen having lived there, and later for the rich American Astor family who put in lots of upgrades while trying to maintain the Tudor style. They built a whole village behind the castle which can be used for conferences and meetings. There's a functional portcullis which can be used for filming.

Built by the Astors

More modern quarters for the Astors. Check out that wall paneling

Astors, but in Tudor style

Same.

The portcullis is visible in the window, with the counterweights on chains. The entryway had 3 of these, plus the usual murder holes to pour nasty things on those trapped below

No fear, like the fish above, they know where snacks come from

Roses

From the church on the property

There were more pictures of the gardens, but the apps are being uncooperative in making them available. But you get the idea. The Astors nabbed all kinds of statuary from Italy and Europe and set up pretty tableaus all over the gardens. It was pretty hot for England, in the 80s, so much sweaty walking through the grounds.

After Hever, Viv drove me back to London, this time to a tiny and probably very expensive hotel room in Kensington. This one, unlike any of the others, had a tiny kitchenette with fridge and microwave, so I took advantage of that for one of many gf ready-meals that I had been seeing. Mmm, beef lasagna. Then I repacked everything to meet airline and security requirements and slept.

In the morning I was picked up by the same driver who had picked me up from the airport, and we discussed things like congestion pricing in London and how they know you went there (CCTV everywhere tracking your license plate), and I was absolutely appalled to hear that they will bill you £5 to drop someone off at the airport. That's just venal.

Flight home did not have gluten free food for me, but I managed with my dwindling emergency food bag. Jerks. Flight attendant suggested I call and let them know and they might give me some miles. Not really useful to fill my belly now, sweetie. Long boring flight, two trains, a ride with my son, and back home, to the cat's delight.

Many thanks to them and their spouse for making do without them. It was a good trip.