Hallo, Downton! I’m Home! {No. 20}

As I sit in the passenger seat next to Dean tonight on our drive back to London and reflecting on our day, I am still a little in disbelief about what I got to do today.  I walked around Highclere Castle, where Downton Abbey was filmed for all of its six seasons. #sigh #doublesigh #Grannysigh

I walked where Mary and Matthew kissed and danced by the newfangled phonograph, the bedroom where Lady Sybil heaved her last, the gravel path outside where Lord Grantham walked his dog, Isis, where countless dinners were served in the dining room and where Carson brought tea served in the drawing room near the highback red velvet sofas and fireplace.  I can’t even describe what it felt like to stand in all those rooms without giving away my complete and utter geek-ness.  The only thing that could’ve made it slightly more exhilarating would’ve been for the cast to have been there with me and maybe for any tourists wearing fanny-packs to have turned invisible for a brief moment.  Surprisingly, fanny-packs really kill the Downton vibe.  And we all know Carson would've never allowed them for a hot second.

But we started our day in London with some breakfast at The Wolseley.....

Y'all.  I have so many pics of Dean just like this.  He has no idea that he's being photographed and he doesn't care.  Give it up for my awesome, unaware husband.  Here we are at The Wolseley for breakfast.  Right on Piccadilly, all black and white and silver.  You can hardly fit everything on your table they bring you so many dishes and accessories.  One of my London favorites!!

Must have the caramelized grapefruit.  Served with the oft-forgotten but ever-so-useful grapefruit spoon.

Photo of the entrance to Jermyn Street off St James's Place.  Jermyn Street is lined with oodles of men's suiting, shoe and shaving accessories shops.  Just love all the Union Jacks hanging from it.  This is right around the block from our hotel.

Rented a car and driving through central London to get up to Highclere.  Sir Dean often waits until the last possible millisecond to brake before making contact with the car in front of him.  This is having an exhausting effect on my nerves.

And now...we approach....

WE'RE HEEEEERE!!!  There just happened to be a Morgan auto club visiting Downton, I mean Highclere, for the day.  How PERFECT is that, I ask you?!

Larry Beckham would've fainted cold to see this old Jaguar.

But enough of the cars.  I am here for DOWNTON!

TA-DA!!  The mothership has called me home!  I'm finally here, Carson!  Put the kettle on!!  

Someone cue the opening credits music, please.  I am having a moment.

And then when you're done with your tour, you're welcome to grab a little sandwich and pot of tea at the cafe.  Heck yes to tea at Downton.  Also:  please disregard that man reaching into the back of his pants.  I have no idea.

Back view of Highclere where the cafe is and loads of outdoor seating which was lovely!

More views of Highclere.  Can we have too many?

How many times have we walked up this path with our minds, eyes, hearts?!  Mary?  Matthew?  Is anyone there??

The gorgeous gardens of Highclere Castle.  Here we have the most lush row of lavender interspersed with some apricot roses.  Sigh. Oh, Granny--I'll just be over by the lavender wall if you need me.

More gloriousness.  By this point I was cursing my dang zone 5 planting climate of the horrid and humid southeast US of A.  There's just no way we could ever have gardens like this!!  And what are those precious little purple petal balls??

I hate you, Zone 5!!

So after Highclere, we headed north to the village of Kingham in the Cotswolds, home of Daylesford wonderland and The Wild Rabbit, where we were to have dinner.  Daylesford is so magical to me.  It's my third visit here in as many years and I feel all the sparks when I'm here.  This is a picture of the garden shop.  Curses on you, horticultural immigration penalties.  So tortuous to drool over plants that I'd have no hope of transporting home!

Daylesford is a destination in itself--Garden shop, Farm shop, restaurants, the Hay Barn (spa), cottages, etc.

The cheese room inside the farm shop.  Give me all of it.  

Overhead view of the Farm Shop.  Lady Bamford is like Martha Stewart on steroids.  All her own meats and cheeses and vegetables and eggs and compotes and honeys and breads and yogurts and dairy and ON AND ON AND ON.  Also:  wine.  The majority of items in her shop are produced from her own farms.  She also has several Daylesford shops in London.  

Outside view of the Farm Shop.

The newest cafe at Daylesford--wood-fired pizza oven to the right.  Isn't it lovely?

It was nearing dinnertime so we headed up to The Wild Rabbit.  This is the pub at The Wild Rabbit.  Please could any bars anywhere in the US ever EVER look like this??

Dean's Guinness and my strawberry-something cocktail with fresh mint and champagne.  One of the most delicious cocktails ever ever ever.  And for the record, Dean gave a slight objection to the partnering of the flowers behind the Guinness as he felt it detracted slightly from the manliness of his beer.  Duly noted but disregarded.

Dean is in pub heaven.  Look at his face.

Dean has a group of guys who refer to their regular nights out to catch up on life as the "Thirsty Third Thursdays" and I'll let you guess when they meet.  This group of older men was here when we had our pre-dinner drinks and they were there when we left after dinner.  Dean remarked that this is what the Thirsty Third Thursday is going to look like in about 20 years.

Little corner of community news, papers and pub accolades from when Wild Rabbit received "Pub of the Year" last year.  On the bulletin board, there's a little white paper at the top which lists local church services.  

Moments from dinner at The Wild Rabbit.  This place is so so special.  Note the Pimm's Cup.  When in England....

And before we go, a few pics of the outside in case any restauranteurs in Knoxville need pub inspiration.  Please, someone.  Anyone.

Back to London!