TALLY HO!!
The thick mist parts over Badminton Hall and one hundred horses tear down the hill at a full gallop, mounted by Lords and Ladies in tweed and black breeches. The bugle blares through the morning air, intertwining with the otherworldly call of fifty beautiful hounds that lope effortlessly in formation, the Captain of the Hunt galloping close behind. Then, there it is, like a smear of red paint on the brilliantly green hillside. The fox moves with blinding speed into the dark trees, followed moments later by hounds, Captain, Bugler, and the many mounted hunters. With another exultant blare of the horn, the foxhunt has begun.

There is literally nothing, in the farthest reaches of my imagination, more utterly English than a foxhunt, but that is precisely where we found ourselves this morning, at the misty crack of dawn, on the Badminton estate hours from White House. It has been a wild few hours. Yesterday, while we were working on the stable (great progress by the way, frame finished, doors hung, building waterproofed, a dozen pillars set in cocnrete, and a wall well on its way to completion) Toby Stubbs approached us with a casual offer that made our jaws drop. Did we want to go Badminton for a foxthunt with he and Kate (his wife) for a foxhunt and then an expedition into Bath? Um, well, let me check my calendar, YES! Hours later (I love spontaneity) we were in the back of Toby's Land Rover Defender hurtling down the M5 towards Badminton. After getting thoroughly lost we arrived at The Fox and Hounds, a pub which served great cider and even better food. There we had a glowing meal of warm food and company. In addition to Toby and Kate (who are incredibly fun) we were joined by Sue, Kates friend with whom we would be attending the hunt (she is one of the premier horse back riders and fox hunters in England, and great buddies with the Prince of Wales and the rest of the royals). A wonderful meal of beef in red wine and stilton sauce with mushrooms, served over rice with vegetables, two pints of apple cider, and crumble with Devon custard. Then we retired, in a daze, to Sue's cottage, where we collapsed onto the sofa in front of a crackling fire to sleep wonderfully for only a few hours, before we were woken and joined the hunt.

Kate Stubbs, dressed stylishly in a fitted tweed jacket, breeches, helmet, and the coolest boots I have Ever seen, leapt up onto a massive horse and trotted off with Sue, who wore bright pink under her tweed. Toby, Casey, and I followed in the Defender. A bit lackluster, I know, compared to, say, a White Stallion, but much cozier. Our riding skills would Not be sufficient for the hunt. Before we knew it we were barrelling through the mist, hot on the heels of the pack, listening carefully for the call of the bugle, the howls of the hounds, and the thunder of four hundred hooves. The hunt lasted four hours, and traveled miles over the Estate (which is, in total, 50,000 acres of woodland and fields). Horses leapt high over hedges, we saw a massive herd of the Kings Deer, and four foxes. And the hounds, oh what beautiful hounds! These are without exception, the finest hounds in England, owned by the Duke of Beaufort. Fifty of the the loveliest, most lean and muscly and elegant beasts ever to prowl the earth. Combined with expert riders on powerful horses, they made a sight to behold.

Interestingly, though elegant and stately, what we witnessed is very controversial. Fox hunting was banned several years ago, and what they practice now is only exersize for the hounds. One of the riders drags a scented piece of cloth ahead of the hounds, and the hunt follows this scent. However, there are so many foxes on the estate that occaisionally they do go hurtling out of the woods.  Should a fox "cross the path" of the hounds, the hunters are not held accountable.

After the hunt, and an eagerly anticipated breakfast in the warm cottage, we drove down to Bath, a breathtakingly beautiful town of elegant architecture and victorian spas. We had a lovely lunch at the Cafe Rouge--tres francais--and explored some classy English clothing stores.

Well, we are several days behind, so I will give a quick rundown on the weekend (easily one of the best ever). Friday night work ended at noon (not technically night yet, but that is still when the festivities began). It was a brilliant evening of mixed drinks enjoyed at Ben and Kat's classy bar, listening to records and having a blast. Great, great company. Good cheer.

The next day was spent playing music and working out at Toby's gym, and then venturing into Lichfield for a tour of the pubs, and a spectacular Indian meal. The Indian food here is unbelievable, due to the commonwealth Indian population of Britain. Ate like Kings and drank like ruffians. It was a lot of fun going out on the town with Ben, Kat, Toby, Kate, and Emma. We were no longer teenagers wrecking havoc, but rather well-dressed, respectable, civil (don't take any of those adjectives too seriously) adults enjoying a night out.

Sunday we rose late, had a spectacular feast of sweet corn cakes and bacon, before driving (en masse: Ben, Kat, Emma, Camille, Jasper, and the unbelievably entertaining and adorable Quinn and Anya) up to Chatsworth, a beautiful Manor House several hours north. Chatsworth is an incredible house set amidst sprawling gardens of green fields, gorgeous trees, a wide tree-lined avenue, a reservoir with a fifty-foot-high fountain, waterfalls, massive rock piles, caves and grottos, and various modern art installments including bizarre statues and eight-foot-tall white orchid sculptures. Not to mention a geometric labyrinth of hedges where we got thoroughly lost. The day was utterly dreamlike, including a sumptuous picnic of sandwiches, Scotch eggs, champagne, cakes and honeydew melon, to name a few delicacies. After the picnic was the maze, then several hours of playing frisbee and catch on the green lawns under the startlingly blue sky (fantastic weather for England). We ran around with Quinn and Anya, and then spent hours exploring the endless (and endlessly lovely) grounds. We stopped for a hot chocolate and then Casey, Camille, and I wandered into a grove of pines for a long nap while the others went to the playground. We drove back to end the weekend with a pork roast and a marvelous nights sleep. I literally cannot imagine a better weekend.

Our stay at White House, which we expected to be the most mild part of our trip, has turned into a series of adventures and misadventures with some really wonderful people whose company we can now barely imagine living without.

Tomorrow the stable should be nearly done and I will try to post some photos.

Now we are lounging after a vast bowl of spagetti, enjoying watching Chelsea FC destroy Marseille (the best team in France). Down with France! Huzzahh!