About fifteen miles away from us lies Waddesdon Manor, a mansion styled on a classic French chateau and built by the Rothschild family towards the end of the 19th century. At this time of year, its many visitors are particularly attracted to its display of Christmas decorations. Carol and Marlene were no exception; Thursday looked like being a dry day that might brighten up so they planned a visit along with Carol’s mother. The only remaining question was, would Keith choose to accompany them or find some alternative diversion keeping me company?

Linslade is not famous for much but Bridego bridge, just outside town, is the site of the notorious Great Train Robbery of 1963. A mail train was stopped over the bridge at Ledburn junction and relieved of a cool £2.5 million (which must be worth about £50 million by today’s standards). Close by in Ledburn itself is the Hare and Hounds pub which displays memorabilia in the form of framed newspaper cuttings reporting the dastardly event. at the time of the robbery, I seem to recall that the villains came to be regarded as something approaching folklore heroes, sort of latter day Robin Hoods, by the populace even though a guard was seriously injured in the attack. “There’s now’t so strange as folk”, as they say. Anyway, given Keith’s interest in railways, I tried tempting him into lunch at the pub to take in some of the local history.

It probably comes as no surprise that Keith eventually settled on the pub option. So, while the ladies went to soak up the atmosphere and Christmas decorations at Waddesdon Manor, Keith and I did a brief local tour around the lanes to see Bridego bridge followed by soaking up a pint and ham sandwich at the Hare and Hounds in Ledburn. It’s true: men are from Mars and women are from Venus.

On Wednesdays, when we are at home, Carol joins in with a group of volunteers that helps maintain various local natural habitats for the Greensand Trust. Recently, as well as the more usual scrub clearance (much too much like gardening, for my taste), she has been constructing habitats designed to attract England’s only poisonous creature, the adder or viper, which sounds much more exciting. (Now, where’s that insurance document?) Wednesday was their last gathering prior to Christmas when they apparently traditionally have a large bonfire accompanied by baked potatoes for lunch. (By all accounts, there are several pyromaniacs in the group which frequently has large bonfires.) Family members and hangers-on were invited to join in provided they came armed with their own spuds to toss in the embers.

So, while Keith and Marlene wrapped themselves against the chill of the winter English woodland, I chopped up some fresh chives and stirred them into some soured cream, packed up some butter and, as lunch time approached, we set forth with with our potato toppings to join the bonfire party. When we arrived, Carol was still working away dragging cut scrub to feed the fire but, since potatoes need very little time at gas mark 28, the ranger’s subtle oven-to-table-ware (a wheelbarrow!) was soon full of baked spuds rescued from the embers of the fire and lunch was on. I haven’t been near a bonfire for many years and I was surprised just how far away the heat from this one could be felt.

As is traditional on the last working day prior to Christmas, the workforce was released after lunch and a very grubby Carol was free to return with us for a reviving shower.

There are ways in which Milton Keynes seems like a clash of cultures. Its network of roads, for example, appears to have been lifted from an American city in that it forms a largely orthogonal intersecting grid with the roads bearing labels such as V7 (V for vertical) and H3 (H for horizontal), supposedly as an aid to navigation. However, at the many intersections of the network there is almost universally to be found one of the plethora of roundabouts for which Milton Keynes has become justly famous, roundabouts being something of an anathema in the States. Given the rather mundane nomenclature of the roads, it comes as something of a surprise that many of the roundabouts sport relatively colourful names, one such being Bottle Dump Roundabout.

Having generated a sizeable collection of casualties from our various alcoholic skirmishes with Keith and Marlene, it would have been a little more interesting to be able to introduced Keith to a variety of burial grounds for our dead soldiers. Hitherto, they had been stored rather unceremoniously in the garage and it was necessary to reclaim space for the expected carnage of battles to come. Somewhat regrettably, therefore, there does not actually appear to be a dump for bottles anywhere near Bottle Dump Roundabout; perhaps the name is historic, predating the development and expansion of Milton Keynes. Thus it was that Keith had to endure yet another scintillating trip to our local Household Waste Recycling Centre (a.k.a. Tidy Tip) to bury 54 casualties with full military honours, all having served faithfully and fearlessly in the European Wine Lake War of December, 2007.

Various battles are over but the war continues. Following in the footsteps of our heroic forebears, our allied Brirtish and American force will carry the fight to the heart of the enemy with an invasion of Normandy, France on December 28th, following further essential training exercises and rehearsals on the run up to Christmas – but that’s another story.

Monday was essentially a lazy day recovering from flights from Prague and Stansted Express runs. Apart, that is, from not one but two trips out to buy tinsel (which actually turned out to be garlands) for the poor, partially-dressed Christmas tree. Carol and I had planned a traditional roast for after the Sunday Stansted run but, following our pub lunch en route, nobody could actually face a large dinner so we did our best to emulate the American delicacy of BLTs, instead. [Note to self: in future, use fatty streaky bacon rather than the good stuff.] That left us with the traditional roast, though hopefully not so traditional as to overcook everything, for Monday.

So, while Keith fought with his point-and-click digital camera to try to understand its logic (it must have been bad, ‘cos Keith resorted to reading the manual), Carol and I fought over the cooker to prepare the Aberdeen Angus, roast potatoes, roast parsnips and, yes, Yorkshire puddings. Let’s see what southern American digestive systems would make of that. I’ve always been very nervous about serving beef to Keith because I know he likes to eat it while it’s still breathing! However, apart from our getting in the way of each other and the Yorkshire puddings being a little on the heavy side, it all finally came together and everybody seemed to enjoy the lightly cooked Angus and his friends. A vet is currently attempting to revive the left overs. 🙂

Well, not exactly express, perhaps; on Sunday morning the roads were seemingly full of Sunday drivers. Nonetheless, the kids were due back and we were to drive over to Stansted airport to collect Keith and Marlene from their 11:50 flight returning from Prague. This would complete our tour of all four London Airports in two weeks. Yeah! The journey went well despite the dawdling traffic and we arrived about 15 minutes before they emerged from the international arrivals area. Fortunately, they did not suffer the same lengthy delays at immigration this time that Gatwick had dealt them two weeks earlier. In little more than half an hour, we were on the road and heading home with some very pleasant winter sunshine to accompany the drive home through the rolling countryside. Keith very kindly bought us lunch on the way at a country pub/restaurant in Cottered and then it was back for some refreshing tea.

Now the serious business of Christmas could begin and, later in the afternoon, Carol and Marlene set about decorating the Christmas tree in the conservatory. Out with some of that bargain Spanish Cava and on with the tacky Christmas music just to give some additional atmosphere and to encourage the ladies. Keith and I were called upon once or twice for some height advantage but we were mainly able to relive the Danube river trip on good ol’ Google Earth while the ladies got on with it. Quite soon, it seemed, we were two bottles down and the tree was done – apart, apparently, for requiring another shopping trip tomorrow to buy some tinsel before the choccies could be put on. Of course!

On Saturday, I managed to survive what would hopefully be the last visit to Milton Keynes shopping centre this Christmas. Carol and I hit the place at 8:30 AM before the manic crowds turned up. The one part of it I was looking forward to was buying some Spanish Cava  for the celebrations. Having grabbed a half-dozen case nad waited in line for a check out, they almost seemed to be giving it away. I knew there was 20% off special for the weekend but I ended up getting 50% off. The receipt showed not only the 20% special but a 10% case discount and 20% on their original two bottles discount. Surely that couldn’t be right? What a deal! This was not an opportunity to miss so it was back round again and into line for a second case. 🙂

Waving good bye to the growing mass of humanity, we got our booty home safely and decided we still had time for our yearly ritual of getting a Christmas tree. We’re lucky enough to be able to walk through some woods at the rear of our house to collect it on foot; it’s only a distance of a few hundred yards. The selection of trees was not terrific this year but we finally chose one and seemed to get a deal on that, too. Walking back through the woods with an 8ft tree over your shoulder is tough but the ritual is mostly fun. It was even a simpler job than usual getting it fixed safely in its stand.

The evening was spent enjoying a splendid curry lovingly prepared by friends Stuart and Pamela. We returned home relatively early, though, since we were to zoom off to Stansted the following morning for Keith and Marlene’s home-coming.

A rude 5:45 AM alarm on Friday roused Carol from beneath the warmth of the downie and made the author stir, albeit briefly. Apparently, Carol and Rosemary left at 6:30 AM for the joyous drive (not!) to Luton airport. Actually, the airport is the best thing about Luton ‘cos it helps you leave it far behind, which is undoubtedly the best thing to do with it. I did not hear them leave. The next thing I knew was the front door opening and Carol returning to reheat my tea in the microwave. See, they do have a constructive use. This is a good trip because it completes the full set of “London” airports for us, Keith and Marlene having been remiss enough not to make any travel arrangements involving Luton. (Maybe they knew?)

After that, Carol has a two hour hair appointment – well, it is very curly – so I have a golden opportunity to do some Christmas wrapping. That goes quite well, I’ve actually managed to fill Carol’s unfeasibly large Christmas stocking, and Christmas gets a step closer.

… but “Chilli with Rosemary”, to plagiarize that well-known title. Friends Rosemary and Steve had organized a weekend in Edinburgh but, as luck would have it, Steve wound up working in Edinburgh the week before. Better than not working, I suppose. (Actually, no, it’s not – ed.) Two tickets paid for; one traveller as Rosemary would be winging her way up to Edinburgh from Luton airport to join Steve. However, Rosemary is unfamiliar with Luton’s facilities so we plan a Thursday evening dinner date together so that Rosemary can stay over and Carol can ferry her to Luton airport in the AM.

The cold weather and mid-week date is a perfect excuse for a good old Chilli con Carne revival. I fancy a bit of variation however, so we go black substituting black turtle beans for the usual red kidney beans, pork for beef and throw the whole over some Nanjing Black Rice. It’s a good variation – even the normally abstemious ladies have multiple helpings – and this could become my standard chilli. Of course, it always helps when everything is washed down with some decent vino but, with those chillies, it’s best not to go overboard on quality.

Poor Carol had a Tuesday appointment with the dentist to get an expensive new crown fitted. Funny how one’s teeth wait until retirement to start playing up, isn’t it? She took advantage of a bright, sunny morning and bravely walked into town to keep her appointment while I bravely struck out for Milton Keynes (yet again) to continue my Christmas shopping. Upon my return all was well and, apart from a residual ache from having her jaw mauled about and generally messed with, Carol was fine and had emerged sporting a shiny new crown.

The sun continued and, since there may not be many such days at this time of year, I thought I should make the best use of it by doing a nasty external chore. Yes, it’s all caused by that darned oak tree again; the gutters needed clearing as did the conservatory roof. We like to put our Christmas tree in the conservatory so that the Christmas lights reflect in the glass walls and roof. The effect is somewhat spoiled if the roof is covered in moss and decaying oak leaves. So, it was out with the ladder and up to the gutters armed with a bucket. Bright the weather may have been but it was also very nearly freezing; there was still some ice in the water. What an enjoyable job – not! After an hour or two it was done and the conservatory now looks like a suitable home for the Christmas tree but, Lord, did my fingers ache. Maybe they were displaying solidarity with Carol’s jaw.

After a morning playing Santa Claus, Carol and I decided to get some much needed exercise clearing what is hopefully the final dump of leaves this year from the nearby oak tree. It hangs over our house like the sword of Damocles and is our biggest single source of outside maintenance. Vast amounts of very cold, very wet leaves that, having stopped clinging tenaciously to the branches, now cling tenaciously to our path, patio and lawn. It’s a little early this year, normally waiting until the week before Christmas to shed its last leaves. The back-breaking task was finally finished by about 3:00 PM and one car load, all but two sacks, of leaf litter has been taken to the Household Waste Recycling Centre by the good little citizens that we are. It is so tempting just to tip the leaves into the woods beyond our property line but, so far, we haven’t weakened. That would reduce our carbon footprint, though, wouldn’t it? Hmmm.

At least now we can see the patio again and we stand a chance of barbecuing the goose on Christmas Day. I cannot believe that Keith and Marlene travelled over here with two bags of wonderful Kingsford charcoal briquettes (if only they were available in this country) in addition to five weeks worth of luggage. With such devotion above and beyond the call of duty, I’m honour bound to barbecue the bird, even if it pours with rain on 25th December. If the current weather pattern is indicative, it probably will.