Our life in our home in England was fun and as for Rosemary and me we were living high. After a somewhat rough start, we landed on our feet and Rosemary became the lady of the Village. She knew everyone and was loved by all. She was frequently mistaken as a native and was treated like the English treat their own. She loved it and I was happy too--we made friends and participated in an Air Force sponsored program called Block Groups that paired folks living in reasonably close proximity to each other and we shared culture and experiences. Ours consisted of three American couples and three English couples. We had an interesting group comprised of three Air force couples, one RAF Officer (John Tocker and wife), a retired bank officer from Rhodesia (Charles and Ida Gire) and the Sherringham Village Chemist (Percy the Pharmacist and drug store owner and for my life I do not remember her name--sorry).
|Stu at the beach behind the h|
per gallon and at the time the Pound was trading at $2.82. In 1960 that was a big chunk of what a 1st Lieutenant earned. Things relaxed a little when we were able to buy Quartermaster gas on base at $0.16 per imperial gallon. Fuel was no longer a problem, only the physical size of the car posed a challenge on the local roads. Not to worry, we soon accommodated to the change and drove wherever we wanted to go although from time to time we had to back out of a road and find a turn around because the road became too narrow for the car.
|Living room and the fireplace|
I mentioned earlier that we entertained with the Block Group and rotated through the families to break bread, be entertained and socialize while sharing our favorite receipts. I remember several of the meals and one in particular with the retired couple from Rhodesia. They made their favorite meal and served it and it was wonderful--really delicious. Rose liked it so much that she went back for seconds (unusual for her). After dinner was over and we were having a glass of Sherry, Rose complemented the Gire (I think her name was Ida, I know his was Charles) on the meal and wanted to know what it was (a kind of pot pie thing) and we were proudly informed that it was an English favorite, steak and kidney pie--well Rosemary was gracious enough to ask for her receipt but never let such a thing ever touch her lips again. I still laugh when I think about it. On the other side of the meal coin was when we cooked. I believe the first meal that we served them was barbecue ribs. I bought about 30 pounds of them at the commissary and got some charcoal and made a smoke house out of the garage (the car wouldn't fit so I made it into a smoke house). I hung the ribs from the rafters and let the juice run down the rib slab as they cooked and would occasionally baste them to keep them moist. They cooked over a slow heat for about 12 hours and were tinder with the meat just waiting to fall off of the bone. I think they were the best ribs I have ever made and after a great deal of confusion by the Brits on how to eat them, all you could see was flying bones and smacking lips and moans of gastronomical delight. Then ole Dave's famous baked beans--
|Dining room and french doors to patio|
But I'm getting a little ahead of my story and need to reflect on our first English summer and the joys of being in our own home again. While we were disappointed in the English summer, the British population didn't seem to mind. The village filled with the tourists and they were everywhere. Their little caravans (very small one room trailers) dotted the pastures and cliffs above the sea for their pure enjoyment of the fresh sea air and holiday supreme. We too enjoyed the summer and lamented the coolness of it but soon fell into the oblivion that embraced the locals and visitors alike.
|The sea and cliffs in back of our home|
|Stu in the front garden|