Our Own Canterbury Tales

 Christmas in Cambridge this year was a cozy and quiet celebration. Our rubbermaid bins of decorations and holiday treasures are in storage in South Carolina so we improvised.  I found a Charlie Brown-esque Christmas tree in the attic of our house here and we decorated it with homemade ornaments and dried oranges. I picked up an advent calendar at a charity shop and stockings were a last minute purchase from Amazon. We did our best to fill them and the space under the tree with surprises for the kids that will also still somehow (hopefully, fingers crossed) fit in our suitcases when we head back across the pond in a couple weeks, where I'm sure more surprises from eager grandparents await. Instead of gifts this year T.J. treated me to six months in England and he promises to buy me a house in South Carolina. What more could a gal want? 

 We met Father Christmas at Anglesey Abbey, indulged in a big tin of Quality Street chocolates, decorated cookies, and on Christmas Eve we gathered around our little table and popped Christmas crackers. We also tried mince pies and a Christmas Pudding per local custom, but after one bite, even covered in custard, I just do not understand why the Brits have allowed this traditional treat to endure. 

 After a couple of days spent in pjs putting together new lego kits, we loaded up the car and headed out of town for one last excursion before the New Year and probably our family's last before leaving England. We decided on two nights in Canterbury with a stop in Dover along the way. Twenty years ago I visited the cliffs of Dover as a teenager and all I really recall is how windy it was that day so I was eager to see it again. We stopped first at Dover Castle, explored the grounds, grabbed lunch at the cafe and then queued up to tour the "secret" WWII tunnels. Following our guide so we aren't lost in the nearly 4 miles of underground passageways we saw the rooms where the outrageous and simply miraculous Operation Dynamo was conceived and executed to rescue the British army from Dunkirk. Just about 20 miles across the ocean, on a clear day you can see the French coast and it's awe inspiring to imagine the urgency, the bravery and resolve of the crowded underground headquarters. 

 We bundled back in to the car heading just a few miles down the road to get as close to the white cliffs as we could. We parked on a muddy stretch, climbed over a couple fences and took the footpath across a farmer's field right to the edge.

 Since our beater car's headlights are unreliable at best we only stopped for a couple photos before we raced the setting sun into Canterbury to find our Airbnb. We dropped our bags and then walked around the corner into the center square. Still strung with twinkling lights and bustling with couples and families strolling around it was a festive scene. We said hello to Chaucer and then grabbed dinner at the Lady Luck when the Thomas Beckett pub we'd previously booked decided they didn't allow kids after 5pm. 

We opted to travel light this trip and so instead of packing fixings for breakfast in our airbnb like we normally would, we went out for cappuccinos, sausage baps and croissants. We enjoyed seeing the city in the "daylight" and walked to St. Augustine's Abbey. The story goes that Pope Gregory I saw Anglo-Saxon children in a slave market and thought they looked like angels. He sent Augustine, the eventual first Archbishop of Canterbury, to England in AD597 to bring the gospel.  Augustine befriended and baptised the Saxon King Ethelbert of Kent who gave him the lands and permission to build the abbey and the Cathedral which we planned to visit later in the day. We wandered around the ruins (thanks Henry VIII) then continued our English history lessons going back a few centuries at the Canterbury Roman Museum. 
We then grabbed a bite of lunch and made our way to the Cathedral for our timed entrance. 

England's first cathedral is a marvel. Full of the histories of saints and martyrs and miracles, the tombs of kings, drawing pilgrims from around the world to this day. We wandered the cloisters and the crypt, the site of Thomas Beckett's murder, our eyes roving down to stone markers of those buried beneath our feet and soaring up the walls of stained glass windows to the vaulted ceilings overhead. 

 We had warm and cozy pies for dinner that evening at The Old Buttermarket pub before heading to bed. The next morning we woke and were puzzled by the bright shiny ball in the blue skies. Could it really be the sun? We had breakfast at a cafe again and popped in a charity shop where we couldn't resist one more beautiful (heavy) book to haul home in our suitcases with dreams of a future home library. Then we loaded up and began the drive home. Taking advantage of the clear winter's day, we stopped at Audley End where it was further confirmed we goofed in not buying an English Heritage membership when we first arrived in the country. This beautiful estate and gardens was another site checked off our list of East Anglia must-dos before leaving this month. The grand rooms, impressive art collection and especially the servant's kitchen had me bursting with inspiration. 

We got home and unpacked our suitcases knowing in just a couple weeks I'll be repacking them for good. In Cambridge for just a bit longer now we welcomed in the New Year: twenty-twenty-five, where we will trade in cathedrals, castles and cobblestones for the foothills, familiarity and family.