By Leslie Kirc
Photos by Kevin Clark
and
Railway Museum Advertising Photo
I am sitting on a platform between two vintage railroad cars. I'm looking them in the eye. Not quite seeing into the cars but almost, eating my first cream tea and enjoying the company of good friends.
It had only been a few days ago that I had been packing, back home in Los Angeles. My husband Harold was excited about visiting his best friend, Bob, from junior high and high school days and the British Railroad Museum in York. This was Harold's first trip to England. His friend has lived in England for most of his adult life. Despite this they have stayed close. I had met Bob and his wife when they visited us last year.
We arrived at Badgergate, his friend's cottage, tired and in awe. It was a quaint two hundred-year-old stone cottage only a few feet from the road. We entered through his office, a converted garage, under the house. It was filled with musical things: a piano, sax, and posters. We filed past his desk and computer and were waved through the door. From behind Bob instructed us, "Don't let the cat out! Go right. Up the stairs. Mind your head!" The narrow stair led us to the kitchen, then into the dining room and the most spectacular 180-degree view of Wharfedale.
A tall elegant lady, Bob's wife Sue, greeted us. They told us that the purple cast to the hills across the valley was heather. The forest of trees in the valley or dale hides the river Wharfe and some very large and expensive homes. The homes weren't mansions. The Mansion house was down the street and on the other side. We were soon seated at the dining room table and invited to tell the tale of our journey between the two countries. As we talked, large mugs of tea appeared between our hands. Later Sue and Bob announced they were fixing us 'tea', which was to be lamb burritos. Bob had learned to cook lovely Mexican food from his Mexican American Mom. The lamb substituted for beef surprised me but the word 'tea' meaning dinner, I already knew from my English daughter-in-law.
The next day dawned sunny in our creamy yellow room with its full-blown rose covered curtains. From one window of our room you could look across the road and up the hill where cows grazed. Past the pasture the moor started with its heather. It was not visible from our window. Out the other window was a mini view of the dale. I was surprised at how quiet the house was, being so close to the road. It must be the thick stone walls. Breakfast was a lazy affair. We each made our own tea with water from the electric kettle. What we ate was also our own affair and quite varied. I found it quite an adventure to be invited to eat anything you want out of a foreign refrigerator.
We left for our journey to the railway museum mid morning. Of course the sun didn't last. When we stopped at a pub for lunch, it rained so hard it come in the door and flooded its fancy dark floral design carpeting. We left in the drizzle with our sympathy offered to the pub owner leaning on his mop in a bit of a daze. Amazingly that day we never really got wet.
The museum is just outside the massive walled city of York. Part of
it was originally an old railroad barn. The other section was all contemporary
steel girders and glass. The museum, with its high ceilings, massive
well kept engines, royal coaches, intriguing railroad paraphernalia
and instructive displays, held our interest and gave us an appetite.
We found the museum teashop. Bob suggested cream tea. I looked longingly
at the chocolate cake. Harold wanted to know what cream tea was. Bob
suggested we follow his lead. We did so with first a fresh scone, then
a large scoop of clotted cream and a dollop of strawberry jam. We all
ordered our pot of tea and found a table out on the platform. We listened
to the rain beat on the old railway barn roof so high above our heads
and enjoyed our cream tea. Harold looked pleased I had learned something
new from his friend.
I wondered if Queen Victoria had cream tea in her railroad coach. It was
so elegant. I could imagine myself sitting in a long fancy heavily corseted
dress having tea out of thin translucent china cups in the presents of
her majesty. Maybe I would be young and shy or I could be worldly. The
absents of rain brought me back to my iron stone cup of tea and friends.