Even though it was late September, St. Ives was bursting with color. Today it's 30 degrees in Cincinnati. All the flowers are dead. Sigh. This slideshow should help.
In case you missed all the hubbub in the news, Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands is stepping down from the throne in April. The reason? So that her eldest son, Prince Willem-Alexander, can having a shot at being a King, which I would imagine is every boy's dream at one time or another.
So the big question is, would Queen Elizabeth II ever step down to give Charles the same opportunity? After all, Charles is 64 now. If he doesn't get a chance soon, he might never get one.
Oops. Wrong Butler.
Sadly, not this one either.
Ah! That's the ticket.
Curdled and boiled blood—usually from a pig—to be exact. The blood is mixed up nicely with chunks of pork, spices, onion, fat and oatmeal, and then stuffed into a casing.
It’s called “black” because when grilled it’s perfectly black except for those lovely chunks of fat scattered all around waiting to take up residence in your arteries. It’s called “pudding” because…hmmm…could it be because Black Blood doesn’t sound nearly as appetizing as Black Pudding?
But I am here to tell you: No matter how good the word "pudding" makes it sound, and no matter how much the guy on the plane told us we had to try it and that it would be the first thing he ordered when he got to London, Black Pudding is simply awful. I wanted to throw up. It ruined the whole meal. It ruined the whole restaurant. Do not eat this.
But, on the other hand, lots and lots of people just love it. You might love it too. I don’t understand it but there you have it.
There was the screaming man who worked at the village brickworks and fell to his death; the highwayman who had a sword stuck in him and then ran through town and ended up pinned to a tree at Fright Corner, where a shadowy figure now appears; and the schoolmaster who was hung by children.
Report has it that all these people are still hanging around.
Then there was the old woman who burnt to death when, saturated in the gin she was drinking, accidentally set herself on fire with the pipe she was smoking on the lonely spot where she was selling watercress.
There was bad luck on so many levels for this poor woman.
There's a man in military uniform who stands on the stairs that lead up from what is now a bar. I'm not sure if he does anything more frightful than just stand there. And then there's the farmer who shot himself just after uttering the words "I will do it" to his wife. Supposedly, those words can be heard today as a whisper all around the farm.
Jeez. A lot of bad things happen here. I'd turn back if I were you.
British Gardens & Flowers
Penny Black Stamp