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"Fat Lady and Old Lady finally find the path to the Church."

Right! So lovely Phillip pointed out the lovely way to the lovely church. Lovely! Our lovely ladies started down the hillside and walked across a field, crossed over a lovely brook using a lovely little bridge. The ladies chatted:
"Is that THE Brook?"
"Might be THE Brook".
"Oh, I think it IS the Brook!"
"Has to be the Brook!"
"My goodness, methinks it's the BROOK!"
The little "brook" that ran alongside "horse pastures" loomed large in Laura's legends of her life in Broxted (Laura being the fat lady's grandmother, the old lady's mother and the youngest daughter in the Poole family who lived here 100 years ago.) Their footpath skirted a field and came along behind the backyards of some houses, where it seemed to disappear.
"What did Phillip say to do now?"
"Aren't we supposed to go through a driveway, past a truck?"
"But where?"
The ladies, having both been raised in the English manner, hadn't wanted to bother poor Phillip by asking for more details, and were now paying the price. The ladies tramped back and forth for some time behind the houses searching for a clue to the lost footpath. "To come this far and get this close, but never get to the church!" sighed the old lady. "Well, let's at least go visit those lovely chickens!" said the fat lady, a famous chicken-lover, knowing they could always go back to the farm, down the drive and turn left. But that was sort of far, and they would have to pass their rooms with their beds. They might not make it past their beds. So they visited some lovely chickens in a lovely garden. They snuck alongside a wall of a house, shushing each other and giggling, but had to backtrack since they were afraid to cross a deep overgrown ditch. Back to the track they had made in the grasses behind the houses again.
They finally returned to behind the first house. "Useless footpath!" "Oh, hang it! Let's just go!"
The fat lady led the way. The ladies streaked (well, waddled/hobbled but they felt like they were streaking) across a well-kept, rather toney yard, as giddy as trespassing teenagers, at last reaching the safety of the pavement. At least they thought they were safe. The sudden sound of a rapidly approaching motor vehicle directly behind sent them diving for cover into a ditch as the vehicle streaked by! Though they would never get used to this, they would soon be resigned to it, (as to the jet noise), as a vehicle (and jet) came suddenly by every few minutes.
Getting up again, and dusting off their clothes, they were shocked to see that they had just trespassed through "Peacocks"! "Peacocks" loomed large in the legend too. The fat lady remembered it as a little old cottage/farmhouse, nothing at all fancy, very plain and ordinary, with no cute boys attached and therefore not important (she had been 17 after all). She remembered the old couple who lived there, the Wallises, as being a cute, easy-going, down-to-earth old couple. Decades later, when she became more materialistic, trading in "looking for boys" for "looking for eBay" she had thought about that little cottage, and what a treasure-trove of vintage English farm items it had been. Now it had seemed to grow much larger, more stately, with landscaping intead of Phylis's garden. But there, on the lawn, glass bottles of milk, covered in dew, had been delivered. This took the fat lady back to her toddlerhood, in the early 50s, when milk used to be delivered, in glass bottles, to her childhood home in California. That brought the magic back, and it didn't matter if Peacocks no longer looked like Peacocks, for our ladies no longer looked like they did 30 years ago either.
The ladies decided to risk using the road to get them to the church. They walked single-file, the fat lady in the lead. Every so often a vehicle would startle them, and they would jump out of the way and into the brush. Seeing it this close, the brush was really wild-growing roses, Queen Annes' lace and various other plants and vines including stinging nettles! At last our heroines reached a crossroads, a sort-of traffic circle, a small one, really a triangle and not a circle at all, with a triangular pedestrian "safe harbor" (fat lady's grateful term) in the center.
"Which way?" panicked the old lady.
"To the right." said the fat lady, pointing at a sign.
"Oh now, how would YOU know!" exclaimed the old lady. "Look!" she said,pointing to the left. I believe that is the post office and where we stayed last time. Let's go take a look." The ladies walked left. It was the place the old lady had stayed with Dad (Herb) the last time they had been here. They took photos. "We stayed here last time, and we weren't anywhere near the church! You're wrong, again, Missy, ha ha!" announced the old lady, looking satisfied. "Well, Mom, then why does that sign over there," the fat lady started to counter, but was interrupted by a gentle, civilized voice that came lilting sweetly from across the street, soft and melodious: "Excuse me, but are you Mrs. Carpenter?"
The ladies' jaws dropped open and their eyes got big as moons as they turned around, half-expecting to see Pinocchio's Blue Fairy. Instead, there was a lovely, pale woman, with blonde hair, a modest skirt and a cardigan set approaching them. She held out her hand to the dumb-struck Yanks,
"I'm Anne Reynolds.' she introduced herself. "I live at the old Bell Inn. I'm looking forward to your visit this afternoon." The old lady recovered quickly and introduced herself and her daughter. The ladies chatted for a few minutes, and then the old lady asked directions to the church. Anne kindly offered to show the way and they walked over to the sign. On the way, something copper-colored on the ground caught the eye of both the fat and old lady. Actually the old lady saw it first and was spry when she wanted to be. She swept down and picked up that penny with lightning-speed so as to beat the fat lady, who had just started to bend. Anne must have been shocked at such penny-grasping , but being ever-polite she just said: "Oh! A lucky penny! Lovely!" The old lady and the fat lady looked at each other with narrowed eyes and nodded to each other knowingly. The old lady and her mother had made a pact that whichever one died first would leave pennies about as a sign that life goes on, and that she is still around. The ladies KNEW it was a penny from Laura! Anne bid them goodbye, and the ladies walked on to the church, the old lady strutting like a superstar!

Somehow the path to the church hadn't changed at all since 1969! Realizing this, the fat lady knew she hadn't either! Such a magical place! She felt 15 again! She started to run down the little path, as she had so many years ago. Almost instantly she felt her mistake:
Disappointed that she could no longer skip along the path as she had the last time she was here as a teen, she readopted the demeanor of women of a certain age. The experience reminded her of when she recently went to the Mall to try on some of the new "60s Look" threads. She had been longing for this look to return for ages! She knew how to look good in these clothes! She would show her daughters, those tall thin Barbies! But instead of a hip, cute chick smiling back at her from the mirror, there was some awful pathetic middle-aged big-hipped woman trying to look like a hip, cute chick! She couldn't leave the Mall fast enough.
When the ladies reached the churchyard, the old lady stopped to look at the nearby gravestones. The fat lady walked on looking for photo opps. She had hoped to take spooky pictures, but realized she was here in the wrong season. The place was so very beautiful in the late Spring. It was like paradise! Walking on, she got her camera out at last to take a photo of a rather cool cross leaning against a fence. She somehow remembered from 1969 that Uncle Freddie Gunn was buried near here somewhere. Looking about she saw one of the most beautiful trees she had ever seen. She went over to it and looked up in wonder. It was as wondrous and awe-inspiring as any redwood! She pulled her camera out again, but there was no way to capture the wonder that just being under the tree inspired. A loud, irritating noise interrupted her reverie. It was a man riding a large lawn-mower. And not just any man... "Okay, where's Disney?" she thought sarcastically. "This man is right out of central casting for some corny kids' movie. He'd be called Captain, and he'd be retired from the sea, now taking care of the old churchyard. This can't be real! People don't live or look like this in the 21st century." The man looked like someone's kind old grandpa. He was tall and slim, wearing shorts, a short-sleeved shirt with a vest over it (how quaint), had white hair sticking out from under a baseball cap, a twinkle in his eye, and to top it off he was smoking a pipe, one of those S-shaped ones! It was all too much. The fat lady went back to tree-gazing. But something caught her eye on the ground. It was a small refuse pile, where the old grass-clippings went, and mixed therein were some dark green flower-holders. "Vintage English Funeral Flower Urn (not stolen from a grave, but taken from a refuse pile). Gothic? No, it is not a Gothic church". She smiled at the thought. She would have to return at another time for it after asking. Now it was time to check up on her mother. She looked around, and what she saw made her eyes pop out!
The old lady, that sly, clever old lady was not innocently seaching the gravestones, but was busy flirting with and chatting up two cute middle-aged men! One of them was the lawn-mower captain! "Dang, she reminds me of Beatle Paul's naughty grandpa, in A Hard Day's Night!"
The fat lady walked up to the group, where the old lady was giggling and chatting animatedly. The 2 nice, cute men were Dick Knowles and Cyril Monk, probably some distant cousins? Eventually the old lady had to let them go back to work. They volunteered to keep the church and grounds in shape. The ladies went into the old church. Both were overcome by the ancient atmosphere, and fell silent as they toured the building, touched the walls and pews, admired the arches and windows, noting the ancientness of it all, and imagining the many historical family moments here, weddings, christenings, funerals.
"Ancient Vintage Gothic Medieval English Church Font," thought the fat lady. The old lady approached the fat lady and tapped her on the shoulder. "We have to get back. We have company coming. I can't wait to see the Bell Inn. Did you take any pictures outside?" "Just of the conker trees, a few of the church, and one of a cross." "Where was the cross?" Down the path just past and to the right of the church as we came in." "There's only one cross there. That's Uncle Freddie Gunn's cross." "Nah, no way! You mean I take one picture of a cross, out of all the many graves around, and it just happens to be a relative's? You mean I was led to that cross? By the spirits of my dead relatives?"
CLICK ON Gunn CROSSbut be warned! It takes awhile to download so please be patient. :) The old lady looked at the fat lady soberly. "Spooky!" So the ladies began the trek back. On the pathway a startled pheasant flew out of the bushes. "Did we scare that beauty, or did he see the BLACK CAT?" shuddered the fat lady. Every time a vehicle approached, the fat lady and the old lady jumped off the street and into the bushes. "This constant jumping out of the way is getting tiring," puffed the fat lady, as she turned around to find her mom flat on her face where she had fallen in the ditch by the road. "What are you doing down there already, Dirtbag? You haven't had your Guinness yet!" smiling playfully. The old lady pulled herself up and strutted off again, as if nothing had happened. They approached some homes on the right and a field and pastures on the left. "The Maltings! Horse Pastures!" shouted the old lady gleefully. "Scumbag, we're here at last!" Out flew the cameras and the photo competetion began again. Click click click click everywhere. This is where the old lady's beloved mother and aunts and grandparents had lived! The pasture where Laura had played! The Legend lived on! Very little had changed. At length the film ran out and the ladies walked up the little hill to the farm and returned to their rooms to await the arrival of their company. They had been too excited and tired to notice the golden feline slitted eyes that stalked them, silently, hidden, from behind. To be continued...
Sonia & Paul arrived a little early and offered to take the ladies on a little tour before going to THE BELL cottage. The first stop for the ladies was a Rolls Royce dealership, right in the middle of a small town called Great Easton. The Fat Lady knew these cars were really cool. Paul was practically drooling. Everyone picked out their favorite Rolls, with vintage winning out over modern. Behind the meticulously clean and luxurious showroom was the repair shop. It looked like the Lords and other Royalty had their cars repaired there. Rolls-Royces, new and old, were lined up outside there, like any old car repair place. Quite a sight! Next stop was another old medieval church, picturesque as always, with another old groundskeeper, and a lovely pasture of horses on one side and a quaint little town on another side. The Great Easton Church is dedicated to St. John and St. Giles. Then after visiting THE OLD FORD (bridge) they continued on to the town of Great Dunmow. The ladies had stayed there at the Saracen's Head twice before, about 30 years ago. As they walked along the street with Paul and Sonia, they peeked in the shop windows. The town looked so much the same, except for one thing------the traffic! Evidently it was rush hour, and the cars were bumper-to-bumper! This had been a quiet little town when last visited, and now the traffic was like London! They popped into a pharmacy where the ladies fussed over all the homeopathic remedies. So many! The old lady, ever thrifty, found a sale bin and bought some lavender soap, as well as zinc tablets for her cold. When they came out, the heavy traffic was gone. Rush hour was over. But then came the "piece de resistance"------Tesco! A small supermarket! The ladies went wild! Food! English food! The ladies didn't say a word to each other. They didn't have to. Each knew what was needed. Each was going to be the first to get it. For just a moment their eyes met in a competetive challenge, then abruptly they raced off. Paul and Sonia were left in the dust. The old lady grabbed a big cart and wielded it like a weapon as she took off toward the dairy products. The fat lady tried to beat her, but lacking a cart to push shoppers out of the way, she lost the race to the dairy destination. Eagerly they searched together for something they'd been longing for for 5 years. Something they'd discovered in Devon and Cornwall back in '69. Something they couldn't ever get back in the States. Something they knew could be found outside of Southwest England, for their quest had been satisfied 5 years before, both in Edinburgh and in London. But where was it? Where was the nectar of the gods, the Holy Grail, the English clotted cream? Nowhere. They looked and then they looked again. Paul and Sonia seemed perplexed that clotted cream could be so important. Disappointed, the ladies found a substitute. It was something they had never tried, called Gooseberry Fool. It looked to be delicious, but nothing could replace clotted cream. As they looked around, they started to brighten up again. The ladies gleefully began filling the cart. They were so excited and happy to be there, they forgot they would have to eat it, leave it, or lug it with everything they bought. "Look, Mom, English cheese! And Scottish! And Irish!" exulted the fat lady as she started filling the old lady's cart. "English teas!" grinned the old lady, as she threw many boxes into the cart. "English fruit!" chirped the fat lady, reaching for apples and strawberries. "Scones!" they cried in unison. The fat lady got plain ones, while the old lady chose those with raisins. "We'll find clotted cream to go with them later." they assured each other. "English salad greens!" "Creamy English milk!" "More English butter!" "Do you thing they're starving?" Paul asked Sonia. "I would expect this behavior from third world refugees, not from Americans. Don't they have far grander supermarkets than this over there?" wondered Sonia. Puzzled, they shook their heads. In the meantime, the ladies had finished their shopping for now, and got in line to pay. "As usual," the old lady noted to herself, "when it's time to pay, my daughter's gone away." The fat lady pretended to look at the magazines. She kept one eye on the old lady in line, and was careful to join up with her again, but only AFTER payment had been made. The foursome got back into the car and Paul made a quick detour. Suddenly they were in the huge parking lot of of a hugeTesco. It was like a giant WalMart with a grossly huge parking lot! The fat lady had no idea such big American-type stores existed here. She was secretly appalled. "Look how much beautiful, historical countryside they destroyed to put this up!" she thought to herself. She shook her head and frowned. "Corporate greed!" Paul jumped out of the car, advising the rest to stay in the car, and hurried to the store. He was only gone a few minutes, and when he returned he was carrying---CLOTTED CREAM! He saved the day! It was the only clotted cream the ladies would get, this whole trip, even in London. "Maybe this Tesco's not so bad after all, " the fat lady changed her mind. Next they headed back towards Broxted along those scary little country roads. At one point, Paul pulled over to the side of the road as best he could, there being no side of the road. "This fellow behind is certainly in a hurry," he said. "I'll just pull over and let him by." The Portuguese taxi driver chuckled to see that he had scared yet another Limey off the road. "Foda-se!" he shouted happily as he streaked past, giving a two-finger salute (people are always more polite in Britain). He would be back to the airport in record time, yet again, to get his next fare. "That's him!" shouted the fat lady as she pointed to the dark blue taxi ahead. "Watch out for him, Paul. That's our crazy taxi-driver!" And it was. Somehow they all arrived safely at their destination: the old Bell Inn. Sonia had grown up there, and her parents still lived there. The old lady's mother had been born there back when it was a pub/inn run by her family. It was sacred, hallowed ground to our ladies, and they acted like it. "Ohhh!" exclaimed the old lady. "Ahhh!" sighed the fat lady. The ladies wandered about the yard, oohing and ahhhing at everything, from blades of grass, to dirt, to old hinges and wood. "A couple of nutters, do you think" Paul whispered to Sonia. "Yes, definitely out of the tree," Sonia observed. "Hopefully, they're just jet-lagged. But I'm beginning to wonder if we really should let them inside?" "Well, your Mum's already made the cakes," replied Paul as he invited the ladies inside. The old lady and the fat lady looked at each other and smiled. Their moment had come. They were actually about to ENTER the legendary Bell Inn. The purpose of the trip! For once, the fat lady was thoughtful and let the old lady enter first. Their jaws dropped as they gazed about the stairway in wonder. Anne (Sonia's mom, whom they had met earlier) invited the ladies into the kitchen. The old lady and the fat lady smiled at each other. "We get to go into the kitchen" they both thought inanely. And so it went. The ladies were invited into the sitting room for lovely tea and lovely cake. There were two kinds of cake to choose from. The old lady was too busy discussing the old days to notice, so the fat lady gratefully took a slice of both cakes. Yummmm. The two ladies took a tour of the house, stepping gingerly about as if in a church, taking pictures of everything, even the bathroom window! Our ladies had a grand time with the very hospitable Dave and Anne Reynolds, as well as the charming couple, Paul and Sonia. They would have liked to have stayed forever, but they had more company coming at the farm. Paul reached down into the garden and picked up a nice piece of old clay pipe, that would have dated from the time the house was the Bell Inn. Then he found another. He was very good at that. The frustrated fat lady looked and looked, but couldn't find any pipe pieces. Paul gave each lady a piece of pipe. They were very happy. Then Paul and Sonia drove the ladies back to their room at the farm. They were too busy talking to notice the black feline shape in the shadows at the side of the road.

| INDEX HOME |Story Part 1 - June 3, 2003--From Los Angeles to Moor End Farm. |
| Story Part 2-Walk to the CHURCH. | Moor End Farm Photos|Broxted Church Photos |
| Story Pt.2 continues to Great Easton.| Great Dunmow and The BELL
|The BARKERS.| TILTY | The Maltings.|CHICKNEY CHURCH | THE GALLERY | Colchester| Old Photos|
|OLD STORIES|
|Fat lady's version-Pt. 1|
|Fat Lady's version - Pt. 2| Fat Lady's version - Pt. 3| Fat Lady's version - Pt. 4|
| Fat lady's version Pt. 5| Fat Lady's version - Pt. 6| Version 7| Version 8|
|Fat Lady's - Part 9|Part 10 by Fat Lady|Rain storm-Pt. 11 by the Fat Lady|