The Isle of Wight
Bill writes: For Aline's birthday on July 22, she asked to go to the Isle of Wight, off the Southern tip of England. So we left a few days before, on Wednesday, July 20th, departing from the Waterloo station for a train that took us to the pier at Portsmouth. From there, we took a ferry to Ryde Pier Head on the island.
From the pier, we caught a train to the small town of Shanklin, where we were staying.
From there we took a taxi to our Bed and Breakfast. The B&B is set in beautiful gardens, with a path to the ocean, its own bandstand, a top-flight chef, and a room that only has equipment for making tea--no coffee maker in sight. It was a very Aline sort of place.
Where Aline could view some nice gardens.
And where the calendar stopped somewhere around 1908.
Our first afternoon we had tea and cakes at The Old Thatched Cottage, which the B&B owner said was the best tea shop in town. We then took a walk along the ocean and then up through the Shanklin Chine, which is a sort of created and preserved garden set in a ravine that leads from the hills where our B&B is, down to the ocean.
After dinner, we strolled into the gardens where the brass band was playing.
On Thursday, we decided to take the bus across the island to see Osbourne House, which was Queen Victoria's estate on the island, and where she would spend up to eight months of the year, during perhaps the happiest period of her life.
The gardens (and if you sense a theme revolving around gardens and things Aline likes to see, you're not far off the mark) are extensive, and seemed more italianate than english to me. Definitely more formal and geometric, with the walks carefully laid out at angles. Here we are at the top, overlooking the sea. And the next photos give a sense of the formalism of the place. Even when Victoria let her hair down, she didn't let it that far down.
On Friday, Aline's birthday, we spent six hours on the beach. This is pretty much what Aline looked like all day:
Eventually, we had to pack up and head back by train. The train from Shanklin to the pier on the island was late. Because it needed to make up time in order to connect with the ferry to the mainland, it put on a full head of steam (well, diesel-generated electrical power). However, unlike the Eurostar, this railway system isn't built for fast trains. The result was that all of us passengers were literally bouncing off our seats like kids on a trampoline, and spent the greater percentage of the journey airborne.
We then retraced our steps, taking the ferry, train, and Underground back to Maida Vale and a warm welcome from Grommet.
From the pier, we caught a train to the small town of Shanklin, where we were staying.
From there we took a taxi to our Bed and Breakfast. The B&B is set in beautiful gardens, with a path to the ocean, its own bandstand, a top-flight chef, and a room that only has equipment for making tea--no coffee maker in sight. It was a very Aline sort of place.
Where Aline could view some nice gardens.
And where the calendar stopped somewhere around 1908.
Our first afternoon we had tea and cakes at The Old Thatched Cottage, which the B&B owner said was the best tea shop in town. We then took a walk along the ocean and then up through the Shanklin Chine, which is a sort of created and preserved garden set in a ravine that leads from the hills where our B&B is, down to the ocean.
After dinner, we strolled into the gardens where the brass band was playing.
On Thursday, we decided to take the bus across the island to see Osbourne House, which was Queen Victoria's estate on the island, and where she would spend up to eight months of the year, during perhaps the happiest period of her life.
The gardens (and if you sense a theme revolving around gardens and things Aline likes to see, you're not far off the mark) are extensive, and seemed more italianate than english to me. Definitely more formal and geometric, with the walks carefully laid out at angles. Here we are at the top, overlooking the sea. And the next photos give a sense of the formalism of the place. Even when Victoria let her hair down, she didn't let it that far down.
On Friday, Aline's birthday, we spent six hours on the beach. This is pretty much what Aline looked like all day:
Eventually, we had to pack up and head back by train. The train from Shanklin to the pier on the island was late. Because it needed to make up time in order to connect with the ferry to the mainland, it put on a full head of steam (well, diesel-generated electrical power). However, unlike the Eurostar, this railway system isn't built for fast trains. The result was that all of us passengers were literally bouncing off our seats like kids on a trampoline, and spent the greater percentage of the journey airborne.
We then retraced our steps, taking the ferry, train, and Underground back to Maida Vale and a warm welcome from Grommet.
posted by Bill | 9:25 AM
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