Not your average travel blog
I brushed shoulders with some old friends at the aptly named TILT picnic at Zenda Farms….because after all I’ve drank in the last two weeks, I feel like I’m on an obscure angle to the ground. I exaggerate….maybe it was the uneven farm yard.
Christmas came early, as I forgot what I ordered from the Internet, and KP arrived to show me some parcels!
I’m rather excited to see my old friend again, as well to be reminded that I ordered some snazzy new gear for this years trip. I obtained some much needed new pants (trousers, not underwear). However, after enquiring about my size here in the US, it’s been confirmed to me that the US inch is in fact, not the same as the British one, and that the guy who sent me 40″ pants, instead of 34″, merely has a ruler which says my one inch, is just the same as his six.
I was introduced to the lovely, Gerry Carpenter in Clayton, who recognised me from last year’s newspaper article. At short notice, Gerry was happy to rectify my length, and I recommended she enjoy a gin and tonic while doing so. She gifted me a hug and a hand made wallet, in which I now store my new camera; reminding me again that the world is full of generous, gin-loving ladies who, at short notice and with some alcoholic encouragement, can help me with my pants.
My last night in Clayton (wearing well fitted pants) was spent at the Yacht Club for dinner. Not your over priced, snooty affair in deck shoes and a blazer, but an affordable, locals haven, where the food is reliably good. In the UK, we don’t really have what the yanks call, a Rueben, and of all the terrible American food on offer here, the Rueben is does my fall into this category – especially at the understated Clayton Yacht Club. It sits on most menus, next to any burger, like the louder, more brightly clothed, more outspoken, younger brother. Not the tinned minced version you get in the UK, but the slow roasted, much like pulled pork version you get here – Succulent corned beef normally lies on toasted rye bread, and closely cuddles some melted cheese under a blanket of griddled sauerkraut and thousand island sauce. Add to that a pickle and maybe a “light” serving of some fried based carb or throat quenching slaw, and every burger in America turns into the popular, but slightly overweight, lead singer of the band; where the Rueben is the hot drummer that everyone fancies. It remains one of life’s mysteries, why they’re not popular in the UK, but much like most American imports, maybe it’s just a matter of time.
A sunset boat trip on the St Lawrence River rounded up my time in Thousand Islands this year, and hopefully after a good nights sleep, KP and I will be heading out early in the morning.
I am now finished with the luxury of couches, spare beds, air beds, the kid’s bed and gin and tonics.
Tomorrow, we road trip.