Night Falls and We Are In Salisbury

Now, as we are heading to Salisbury Monday evening, you may be asking yourself, "How are the girls finding their way around all of these English towns?" The answer is "Beatrice". Beatrice is the name we gave our trusty navigator you see above. She sits on the dashboard and tells us where to turn. Click on the arrow above to hear her.

She would say, "Take the second exit off the round-a-bout" and Mary, the navigator, would count them off. Worked like a charm. Well, mostly. But she did get us to the Rokeby Guest House in Salisbury without losing us once. The Rokeby was another cozy choice and it was set up like an olde English upstairs/ downstairs residence, although they told us it was most recently a schoolhouse. Decorated in maroon and cream with satin pillows. We moved in. The bathroom for our room was out the door, and up the stairs, but it was roomy which was welcome after the tiny bath in London. Made for some careful late night trips, but I never ran into anyone else -- thank goodness.

The innkeepers gave us instructions on how to walk into the center of town, and we headed off to take a look for a friendly pub. The Royal George Inn fit the bill perfectly. Shania Twain was on the jukebox and the locals were playing cards in the corner. We were warmly welcomed by the proprietress who loaded up the juke box for us and broke out bowls of peanuts. We closed up the joint and weren't kicked out at closing time but accepted to stay on with the regulars.

Haley was conked on the head by the low roof as we were leaving, a reminder that the inn dates back to the 13th century, but we had a great time until it was time to walk in the brisk air back to the Rokeby.