25 Fingals memories for my 25th Fingals anniversary.
- Anticipation. Fields turning red, Totnes, winding lanes, first sight of the Dart, and then the green Fingals sign. Really, I still count down the days!
- First visit; first evening meal. Deb announced we could join the main table. Me; ‘Not sure about that’ How wrong was I!
- Bathed in sunshine on the step outside Lower Mill toward late afternoon and listening to the chatter, clinking, and clanking of pans from the kitchen. Dinner beckons…..
- Little heard now but the shrill ring of the telephone. Maybe a booking; ‘who is the lucky one?’ I used to wonder.
- Thoughtful, whimsical, and uncontrived Fingals factor as I call it. Very, very special. Me to a tee. Love it.
- Eric. Many memories of course but watching him pace the pool reciting the menu to an elderly, and most reluctant, swimmer was very amusing.
- My first morning, early and sunny, watching Emma’s faltering steps on the croquet lawn. Richard’s mother and I shared a pot of coffee.
- Menu cards. Girls would collect and then return with our selections. Bar snacks may have induced their endeavours.
- Honesty bar. We all loved this, can also say that it was never abused. I’ve kept the bar tabs.
- Looking in on the main dining room with table laid for dinner. Shining cutlery, gleaming glass, candles lit. I love a properly laid table.
- Tennis matches. Particularly your friend with the brown working cocker. He would (maybe still does?) swat the ball, immobile, from mid-court.
- When girls became old enough to dress for and enjoy dinner. Took them ages……..then drinks in the bar. How grown up.
- Dennis the Menace video in The Barn. ‘Tewebbly sowwy’ when Dennis’s dad lost his false teeth. Now an apologetic idiom for our family.
- The restaurant. We loved the food, unpretentious but stylish. Eric’s Gallic flair added to a real occasion. And later……
- …..singsong recital of sweet menu; chocolate torte, creme brulee, lemon tart….we always asked for a repeat. Torte, Brulee, Tart!
- Lolling on the lawn watching, with interest, first-time guests arrive – will they enjoy? Of course, most did – and returned.
- Simultaneous sense of involvement and detachment in the Folly. The perfect mix for an old misanthrope like me.
- The two owls in the bar; ‘Let’s go back to Fingals for a toot’. Love this. Nail it to the wall, I have my eyes on it.
- Each year the same ethereal atmosphere, but always changing little by little. I love spotting the differences each year.
- The Fig tree at rear of tennis court. Delicious fruits hiding behind the large leaves. Roasted, a welcome harbinger of autumn.
- Folly balcony over Barberry Brook. How much time have I spent there? Each moment a real pleasure.
- Sun setting behind hill at rear of the Folly, Radio 4 an accompaniment to my evening cooking, external hotel lights coming on, all perfectly bucolic.
- Opening the Folly door on arrival, lavender scent in the hall, stream burbling, a whole week in prospect.
- The loo in the Folly which sounds like Concorde on take-off. Puerile, but I must flush it on arrival to ensure it remains unchanged.
- The impromptu barbecue a few years ago eaten on the terrace to side of the house. Reminded me so much of pre-dinner drinks outside the bar years before.
Tim South