Do You Know Your ABC's?

I'm yet to meet a Brit who has watched -- or will admit to watching -- Downton Abbey.  But surely all those cars at Highclere Castle didn't belong to tourists. And I'm pretty sure I heard a lot of British accents in the queues inside and out.  So either they're all closet fans or they just enjoy touring through old castles.  In the ABC land of 'another bloody church' or 'another bloody castle' my money is on the closet.

And for those of us who will whole heartedly shout from the rooftops, "I'm a fan!" a trip to the castle is almost akin to visiting the Harry Potter studios. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration.  Okay, a lot of exaggeration.  But standing in the same spaces where Mary bitched, Carson sniffed, and Maggie Smith delivered some of the best one liners every heard on network TV is pretty damn cool.  Except for the "no photography inside the castle" rule.  That whole notion of photography damages the paintings and tapestries is just so much BS.  Think about it -- is the dinky flash on my camera going to compete with the lights of a television crew?  Methinks they just want to sell more of the guidebooks they flog at the front entrance.

So Downton fans, you'll just have to settle for these exterior shots that will likely look familiar...

Meanwhile, back in London, it's a bank holiday weekend, and the Canalway Cavalcade is in full swing at Little Venice in the Paddington Basin which is conveniently located a hop, skip, and a jump from our hotel.  

Oh, and back at the castle, we were in the downstairs hallway heading towards the exit when the lady of the house, the Countess of Carnarvon, scurried by with her dog, and headed up a nearby stairwell, after carefully affixing the security rope behind her.

I'm sure her haste was the only reason we weren't invited up for tea.