I Married McGyver

In our continuing series of posts detailing last weekend, here's one about Saturday night. But first, let me pay tribute to the wonders of duct tape. Even in a foreign country, with limited tools, on a rainy day, Charles fixed his umbrella (so necessary here that I'd leave the apartment without undergarments before I left behind my umbrella) with duct tape. Impressive.

So, Saturday night we finally experienced the phenomenon of the gastro-pub for real. Bart and Tony took us to the Black Swan. Or perhaps it was the Black Horse. It might have been the Black Dragon. In any event, it was black. As you can see, below, it is also really pretty:


When Tony was a boy, his parents came here to drink (no food, then), and the kids played on a bunch of tree houses built out in the yard. They also enjoyed playing in the canal. They climbed the railroad trestles and jumped in, pushed each other in, and otherwise amused themselves. Tony learned various skills at the re-purposed abbey, as well:

They probably shouldn't have gone in the water, since it's not what you'd call clear. In fact, we found a drowned rat floating in it:


So after our dinner (proscuitto-wrapped chicken breast in mushroom cream sauce on mash - nice choice Tony, and thanks for sharing!), we all ambled off down the canal for a look. The path meanders along the canal for a long way:


It was, as they say, lovely. We took a number of silly pictures of ourselves, ignoring the bad light and my slight inebriation. It was peer pressure, really, from the group of pirates we met along the way. No joke, missing teeth and an eye patch. No, really. They were having a great time, and naturally we had to keep up.

All along the canal there are small barges. You can rent one, and holiday up and down England using canals. Or you can live on one. Like ships, they have names. "Sure & Steadfast," for example, or "Safety First." Of course, some people are more creative with their barge:


All in all, it was a very nice evening. Good food, an enormous bottle of cider from a family cider business that's been making the tasty stuff since 1728, scintillating conversation, and a little stroll afterward. Rats and pirates were merely the icing on the cake.


The real pleasure of a weekend in Milton Keynes, though, is canine. Not that Bart and Tony aren't wonderful. They are. But they don't let me do this:


And even if they did, it wouldn't be quite the same. Of course, neither Cooper nor Kira make breakfast or provide saucy chat. But...I'm still hooked. I realize that we've posted pictures of Tony but not Bart. So here's the two of us, 16 years after we graduated high school together. Don't we look smart and interesting?