At some point between our last days in Scotland and our first day in London, I had to start referring to Andy as “Lord Grantham” because of the sheer volume of tweeds and country gentleman’s attire he has been purchasing. It also didn’t help that our gracious Scottish host, George, introduced Andy to the gentlemanly sport of fly fishing on the River Tweed. Now Andy is completely kitted out to be Lord of the Manor. Except we don’t have a manor. Stately Two Terrier Vineyards will fill in nicely. And we do have terriers which seem to be key accessories for gracious country living. Now, me, I question how much tweed one man needs — especially when he lives in the perpetual Spring of San Francisco and a place like Sonoma which has more 100 degree days than 40 degree days. But a gentleman does have to be dressed correctly when he strolls the estate. And Andy does worry constantly that he might not have enough tweed for those purposes. This vacation was a chance to rectify the situation. He started on his tweed quest the moment we hit Edinburgh. It hit a frenzy at a great little gentle gentleman’s shop on a picturesque street off of the City’s old grass market.
I’m sorry to say that I have, to date, purchased no tweeds. But then I only go clothes shopping once a year whether I need it or not. However, I did purchase a great coat/cape. I’m ashamed to say, in the land of tweeds, it is actually of some polar fleece like material. Yes, not wool but so much more practical given that it will probably be worn in Sonoma in the company of muddy terriers. Still, it is appropriately swirly and I feel like some sort of Victorian stage villain in it. Especially when I drape it over my backpack which gives me a certain Dickensian hunchback flair.
But back to His Lordship. Now that he was dressed the part and we were in London, we had to go out on the town to show off his sartorial splendor. First stop, Petrus where Gordon Ramsay was dressing his food almost as splendidly as Andy.
We ended up asking so many questions of the waiter on how dishes were cooked and assembled, that he finally took us into the kitchen and palmed us off on the sous chef. They traded tips on cooking Beef Wellington.
Since then, we’ve been to The Museum of London, one of the oldest pubs in London for lunch, the Noel Coward Theater for a Noel Coward play and a very upscale Indian restaurant near enough to Buckingham Palace that we figure that’s where Liz and Phil nip out for a quick Biryani and Tikka Masala. At every stop, His Lordship was dressed to tweedy perfection.
However, he’s still feeling tweed deprived. And I’m told tomorrow, our last day in London, will be spent exclusively at Jermyn Street and Burlington Arcade.
Whatever Lord Grantham wants…