Uncle Robber and I went to the Taste of London Festival yesterday in Regent’s Park.
We did not get home until late, hence the lack of posting.
I will be waxing lyrical on matters food related shortly, but first I must share with you a lovely snippet I overheard on the train going to London yesterday.
Two elderly women were sitting across from us having a wonderful gossip about life, the universe and everything. They got onto the subject of where they had lived prior to their current homes. One had lived in Kings Lynn in Norfolk which is not far from one of the Queen’s residences, Sandringham.
They were discussing which bits of the house and grounds you could visit and all things royal. I was only half paying attention at this point, as you all know how I feel about matters of royalty. I did dial in for a wonderful anecdote though, as the lady who had lived there said:
‘Once I was in Kings Lynn Marks & Spencers when I bumped into the Duke of Kent…’
Her friend gave an appreciative squeak, which the lady acknowledged and then carried on to say:
‘Yes. They do let them go out and about you know.’
I imagine the minor royals, all penned up, probably in the walled vegetable gardens at Sandringham, roaming round, pulling up carrots with their teeth until the day the head keeper unbolts the door and lets them out for a brisk trot and some gentle exercise.
If only!!
Alienne
I’d pay to see it.