Sunday 18 February 2024

After a full monty English breakfast and some washing of woolens, we headed off on a country drive, along the narrow, twisting and sometimes muddy, country lanes, for a little village about 20 minutes away called Albury.

This particular Albury was recorder in the 1086 Doomsday Book, so it’s a bit old. The manor estate was owned by Roger d’Abernon. Appropriate eh? He was a frog from Calvados, who followed William the Conqueror over to do a spot of burning and pillaging.

My Albury, in NSW, is said to be named after this Albury in Surrey, but no one is sure. They both are (were) picturesque villages on a river.

Being a Sunday, I suppose, there were lots of people rambling and cycling along the roads. The car parks at the trail heads were full and it was a bit busy. Lady P managed to miss a couple of horse riders doing a right hand turn. So we then found the pub.

The Drummond pub at Albury is a lovely place, all set up today for Sunday roast. We had a pint and a single gin and tonic for the driver and commented on their excellent wine list. We sat in the corner window seat of the bar, with sunlight streaming through the glass and contemplated staying. Alas, jobs back home called and we drove back to prepare our roast pork for dinner.