A football? Try Tring!

Astute readers may remember that a certain person identified the need for a football in an earlier episode. Thus and therefore, on Saturday morning, after a coffee in town and the purchasing of some sublime olives from a local stallholder (the oily juice of which is being spread over Jeremy's laptop keyboard right now), there was a fruitless scouring of the St Albans shops for a football. Why cannot one buy a soccer ball in St A?

Later, after the usual milling around that always precedes expeditions involving more than one person, EGI and J set off for Waddesdon Manor, former home of Ferdinand de Rothschild. George was on a fact-finding mission, as he has been reading up about the Rothschilds; Ian and I were up for an adventure; and Jeremy was being a very gracious host. Unfortunately Immi wasn't feeling quite the thing, so she stayed home.

As we drove through the very pretty village of Tring en route to Waddeson, a terribly exciting thing happened. I saw a soccer ball in the window of a shop on the main street. We screamed to a halt and piled out, and sure enough the shop sold balls and there was a satisfactory result. Score! And on we went to Waddeson. Cop a load of this:

We descended through the woodland playground (5 stars, I wish I were a kid) to the Stables where we lunched and then visited the exhibition, which included works by Damien Hirst and Ai Wei Wei. See the Little Piggy here...

The front yard

Then we trudged back up to the house and admired the delightful prospect from the front before getting our free tickets (thanks NZHPT) to the inside. Words simply cannot describe the place. Or at least mine can't. I don't think the wealth of the Rothschilds can readily be understood by mere mortals. Unlike the landed gentry who have acquired treasures in various ways over the centuries, and also lost them, the family R had the fortune and the taste to set out and acquire treasures in a very deliberate way, and have had the good sense to keep 'em intact.

So... I don't think I can ever explain how it felt when, after exploring 45 rooms filled with the ultimate in prized objets, I was accosted by a very genteel volunteer who asked me if I would like to buy a raffle ticket. I'm still not sure if the funds being garnered by this enterprise are intended to pay the stamps for National Heritage in 2013 or purchase another Canaletto.

After the shock of the fundraising we went to the picturesque aviary and then shimmied back to the car for water and a sit-down. The village that Rothschild built is terribly cute, but for me the concept of building designer villages does grate a little. We headed off with the help of the Galaxy Note to Wing, where we visited the very special (yes, another very special) church of All Saints. I am such a sucker for very special Saxon churches.

I have to confess that by the time we arrived at the Ivanhoe Beacon I was dying for a pee and a vino. We looked at the lovely view, spared a brief thought for the Neolithic trudgers along the Ridgeway, and then scrambled back into the car and headed for home.

Back at B-'Ave (behave!!) we had another fab evening with sumptuous food and wine and intelligent company. Time is flitting by! Day 4 approacheth!