STAMFORD, ENGLAND
We took a trip up to the midlands to visit my home when we lived in England when I was 8 - 10 years old. My father was in the Airforce and was stationed in England for two years in cooperation with the RAF for the management of the United States Thor ICBM missiles, so the family moved from the Tuscon desert to the damp English midlands.
When we first arrived in England our house was not ready for us to move into yet so our family was put up in The George Hotel in Stamford. We lived there for 6 weeks, so as a young child I explored the hotel in great detail along with my older brother Jack and sister Jeanine.
The old charm and character of The George was just as I remembered it. After all the years that passed since I was a child, the hotel still held some familiarity an I am sure some of the old decor was still present.
For some reason they saw my last name on the reservation and they wouldn't let us dine in the main restaurant, so Mary Kay and I had our meal in the Garden Room. I thought that it was odd that we were banned until i remembered the first night our family stayed in the George....
The story as I recall of that momentous diner was: . . .
My mom made Jack, Jeanine and I dress very nicely for dinner. Just before entering the dining area we were warned that we had better be on our best behavior while we are at dinner that night.
The host ushered us to our table that was right in the center of the restaurant where we were on display to everyone dining. So there we were; my father, mother, my older brother and sister, me and our youngest brother Joe who was a baby and was seated in a high chair at the end of the table between my mother and father. We were quietly reminded that we children were to be on our best behavior and to sit nicely and quietly eat our meal.
The waiter brought bread and butter and some condiments to the table. After the waiter left the baby Joe sticks his finger into the mustard and then puts it into his mouth. Well, English mustard is spicy hot so Joe, immediately, starts huffing "Huaa Haa Huaa" and blowing because of the hot mustard. My dad shoots us kids a scowling look warning us not to laugh.
After my mother and father calm Joe down and wipe his fingers, my dad moves the mustard and condiments out of reach of Joe in the high chair but in doing so he sticks his elbow into the butter serving plate. He discreetly wipes his sleeve and we kids sit there keeping quiet and watching this small comedy play out.
My brother Joe is still fussing after the mustard tasting so my dad stands up and takes him out of the highchair to calm him down. He says he is going to get some coffee and asks my mom if she would like a cup. He carries Joe over to the table with the coffee urn and comes back shortly and has a very pained look on his face. My mom asks what is wrong and my dad says "Your son just poured hot coffee into my shoe!". My mom asks how did he do that. My dad said " I had my hands full with the two cups of coffee and Joe and he reached down and turned the spigot open and coffee poured into my shoe until i got him to release the spigot"
My brother, sister and I successfully maintain our composure after hearing our dads recounting of his trip for coffee. The meal came and things seemed to be under control.
Then my mom took a forkfull of peas to her mouth and as she opened her mouth she hit the fork on her front teeth and the peas jumped off the fork in every direction. We kids had to stifle our laugh trying to maintain our good behavior.
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My dad quietly said not to laugh and told my mom, not to worry it could happen to anyone. We resumed our meal and my dad took a forkful of peas and promptly hit his teeth and peas spilled from his fork. . .
That was so hilarious that we couldn't control ourselves and we all started laughing including our parents. The sad part of the story is that our parents never ever took us back to the restaurant for a meal. We were forced to eat all the rest of our meals for the next six weeks in our hotel room. Which was a gross miscarriage of justice, because we kids were exceptionally well behaved and our parents were the ones who exhibited poor table manners and strange behavior.
After our meal in the Garden Room Mary Kay and I went outside to look at the gardens on the grounds of the hotel, because we had a room off of one of the back gardens when we stayed there and i hoped to capture one of my memories of playing in the gardens when we were there.
Although, you cannot see the windows in this photo because the building steps back a few feet I think that we stayed in a room in the front portion near the street gate that shared this wall and the windows faced toward the neighboring building on the right. I faintly remember this walkway.
The George is a quaint coaching inn with lovely gardens, that exudes a sense of English history .
The Geroge of Stamford Hotel is thought to date back to the 940s when it was an inn that largely would have served those travelling on the Great North Road highway.
Burghley House
Burghley House is a grand sixteenth-century English country house near Stamford, Lincolnshire. It is a leading example of the Elizabethan prodigy house, built and still lived in by the Cecil family.
We took a walk through the Burghley Park estate with an undulating landscape with open pastures and wooded pathways. We found dear roaming free on the grounds. The views of Burghley House as we walked through the grounds are stupendous. The house is amazing.
