The night we arrived we celebrated Seth's birthday with dinner. The kids had made him cards earlier in the week so they gave him those as well. Tres sweet
One of our first stops was to No. 1 Royal Crescent. The little two were given a "mission" that guided us through the rooms and asked them questions. It was a super cute way for them to learn about what they were looking at.
Photography wasn't allowed in most rooms unfortunately, but I did get this photo of Ana putting on every shirt and hat possible. And I had to snap a blurry, but readable photo of the rules of the hall. I'd have been kicked out at number 1...and my children have been known to break number 7, I'll just let you simmer on that for a second...
Abbey towers was nearby. This is where we climbed 212 steps to reach the top. 'Twas entertaining coaxing my little man up the narrow winding steps of the towers.
There is one point were you walk along a ledge (with a railing, of course) and he. was. petrified. My line to him as of late is, "Buck up, buttercup." For some reason, I come up with cheesy sayings and surprisingly they work on my brood. For instance, when waking them up I say in a sing songy voice, "Wakey wakey, Lemon Cakeeeeey!" And they pop right out of bed. Except the girl. She's the rebel. One day I simple sang, "Wakey, wakey!" Owen rolled over slowly, cracked one eye and said, "You have to say Lemon Cakey, it makes waking up better." So that's my theory on it now, if I cutesy it up, it doesn't seem as harsh and they abide by my request. And by 'they' I mean the boys. So whilst walking along the ledge, rather than saying, "Suck it up and be a man!" I threw out, "Buck up, Butter cup." and he does. And I seem like a better parent. Write that down. Implement it. Then receive a trophy in the mail for Mom of the Year.
So he found a little courage and got across the ledge, but not without a tight grasp on my hand and leg. When we got to the top he was a bit happier, so I left him with the boyfriend so I could stalk the swimmers a few buildings over.
That's a bad joke. I promise I wasn't stalking anyone, although my telephoto lens did give me a creepily close look at a rooftop pool, the kids pointed out the pool. I thought the swimmers were bonkers because it was a chilly day - that pool was either heated or I was watching the local mental hospital's swim hour. My vote's on the latter.
On the way up we stopped at a few different places on the tower. One was behind the clock face. And I am obsessed with this shot. And it was taken on my iPhone, can you believe that? One of my favorite photos was taken with my phone. I love the silhouette. It's tough to get a good silhouette shot that speaks to me but this one does.
Much like this one.
I think maybe one reason I'm obsessed with a good silhouette shot is because they rarely catch my eye. So when they do I'm all up on it. I love candidness when it comes to photography. Of course I still get a few shots where I say, "Okay! Look at me and smile!" But typically, I like capturing real life in photos. I like capturing people doing what they do, being natural, not staged or posing or waiting for me to count to three. Some of my favorite photos are of Owen's feet, when he's on his tippy toes trying to reach the water fountain at The Arch in Saint Louis. And the one where Ari and Ethan are sitting on the beach and she is whispering something in his ear. Or one where Seth is holding Owen and they are looking out of a window talking to each other about what they see. My favorites are the ones that tell a story. The ones that remind me of a precious moment in our lives that we might have otherwise forgotten. The real ones. The unplanned ones. And that's what silhouette photos are to me - a story. You have to catch that perfect moment to tell a story when much of the photo is black.
We sat and took a break before the trek up the towers and the kids giggled, teased each other, and ran around rather than taking a moment to rest as they were supposed to. And Owen, of course, found me trying to sneak a picture of him while he joked with Daddy. That kid loves a camera, and will find it like a cop dog will sniff out crack. Real talk, son.
I love, love, loved the stain glass windows. My love is probably thanks to my mom, she used to make stain glass when I was younger. I remember her making several pieces and me being amazed at how she did it. I thought of my mom while here, I quietly wished she was there with me in the moment, as I knew she would be able to truly appreciate it and take it all in.
After the towers we explored the city a bit, looked in shops, then we grabbed lunch.
I don't remember the name of the place we ate at but it was delicious. I had crab cakes and Oh. My. Lord. I'm not exaggerating; food here is delicious. Because they don't just throw shit on a plate and try to get the next customer in. No. Eating here is serious business. There is no such thing as fast food. There are no drive-thrus. When you go out to eat here it is an all day event. You walk in and order a drink. And by drink I mean some sort of alcoholic beverage. What if you go in the morning, you ask? Well you order a mimosa or champagne, of course. No, seriously, you do. Then after you're done with a few drinks and about an hour of socializing you are taken to a different table in some restaurants, in others they simply bring you a menu to the table you are currently at. There you order you food. You order another drink too. When your food comes out you eat. And if you still have some on your plate once you reach a point of being full you don't ask for a to-go box. No. You sit and chat for another hour or so until you have made room to finish your food. Then you finish your food, and by now you've had another drink. After they clear your plates you won't see your waiter or waitress for at least 20 minutes. Because guess what, they are giving you a chance to get hungry again. At this point, they bring you another menu. From this menu you order dessert with either tea or coffee. It comes out and you eat it. Then you sit and chat some more. When you are ready to go you have to wave down your waiter. They give you the bill and you pay for it. Oh, and you don't leave a tip. Do. Not. Leave. A. Tip. Because 1. They will either automatically know you are an American and you don't want that, we claim Canada when at all possible but that's a post for another day or 2. They will think you are hitting on them.
They don't need tips. They don't work for tips. They get paid a normal salary unlike American waitstaff. And that is why their severice is so good - because they aren't trying to get through a million customers to get a million tips. Food here is delicious. And going to dinner/lunch/brunch is a mini-vacay... Horse. Beat.
You should've seen us, we were checking out the other people while trying not to be obvious about it because we had no clue what to do with half the things they gave us. We had a strainer. And a third tea pot of just boiling hot water. We got the hang of it though and it was amazing. And we were stuffed by the end of it because we had just came from lunch and then they gave us more food. Apparently high tea means not only tea but champagne, sconces, cakes, and sandwiches, oh my.
It was the ultimate tea party. Now I want to make a handful of little girls, get dolled up, and go to high tea with them on a regular basis. Seriously. It was phenomenal. Go there if you are in Bath. Even if you don't have a daughter, just go with your spouse, or even your son to teach him some culture. It was fun stuff.
After tea we left to meet back up with the boys. But it started pouring down rain, so naturally we ran to the church for shelter. Don't judge me, it's what Jesus would've done. Plus it was a stone's throw away. The pope looking guy (I'm going to hell for not knowing his real title) let us in and informed us that mass was starting in 15 minutes. Shit. I didn't come for mass, I thought. I just wanted a break from the rain. But I couldn't tell him that. And then I felt guilty for thinking a curse word. I always feel weird and awkward in churches because I swear a lot and I'm bound to toss out at least a 'damn' during service, at which point I'm convinced my slot in Hell is sealed. I can control myself enough and not let out any F bombs or hardcore shit but simple words like 'shit' or 'damn' just flow out of this mouth of mine naturally and being in a church doens't change that. So of course I wanted to get out of that place STAT, and as I turned to plot my escape whom do mine eyes fall upon? My equally dirty-mouthed counterpart, Seth Nolan. "Great minds," I said to him. Then we were out of there before anyone could say BLESS YOU and toss holy water on us.
By dinner time we were beat and it was time to find food then head back to our hotel. And as usual, my little guy entertained us all at dinner. Tonight's show? The Biggest Paper Airplane in the World. And when we got outside he threw it, it went two inches then nosedived into the footpath.
We also went to Stonehenge. I was a bit worried the kids would think it was boring but in the end I honestly didn't care, because I knew they would eventually appreciate the experience.
It helped that they give you individual speaker-like-things. Basically it guides you through the tour. So when you get to marker '1' you press the 1 on your device, hold it up to your ear like telephone, and listen to the recording. It's neat because it would say things like...if you look to your left you will see blah blah blah, this was used for blah, blah, blah. It was nice that it was self-guided so you could replay a part you missed or skip parts you weren't interested in.
I caught this tiny girl taking a photo of her parents. It was adorable because the camera was as big as she was and she was holding up the lens with her knees. I cropped her folks out of the photo since their faces were showing but it was such a sweet sight; the two of them sitting on the ground smiling and their little girl capturing their moment.
Stonehenge was our last stop of the weekend. The quick getaway was a much needed break from reality.
Until our next adventure...
No comments:
Post a Comment