Last night, my husband, Clif, and I went to the Red Barn in Augusta to have fish and chips. The prime reason we did this was for “research” for an upcoming piece I am doing for Maine Food & Lifestyle magazine, but we couldn’t quite contain the glee we felt about having this kind of meal in the middle of the week. Generally, fried food is reserved for the weekend, a treat, if you will. However, when one is doing research for a project, one must occasionally break the rules. (I know. It’s a harsh life, one I try to bear bravely.)

As the before and after photos indicate, we ate every last crispy bite of our pint of fish and our order of chips. I thought we had plenty with what we ordered. Clif would have liked a bit more, so we went all out and had ice cream for dessert. Again, all this on a Tuesday!

As I ate the fish and chips, I couldn’t help think about my friend Sybil, who on Monday left for a trip to England. She has a friend who lives in a village in Cornwall, and Sybil will be staying there for 16 days. (Sybil went armed with a little cookbook, so she can help her friend with meals.)  This village has plenty of shops and a train nearby for trips to a larger town that has a cinema and other amenities the village doesn’t have. No car is necessary, and how I envy that friend to be able to live a car-free life.

Before Sybil left, she spoke by phone with her friend, who had recently gone on a ramble with another friend.

“The bluebells are in bloom,” Sybil’s friend said. “I hope they last long enough for you to see them.”

“Never mind!” Sybil exclaimed. “If the bluebells have gone by, there will be cowslips to admire.”

With an attitude like that, it’s no wonder that Sybil has a good time nearly everywhere she goes.

Buebells. Cowslips. Scones. Tea. Steak pie. Fish and chips. Cuckoo birds. Ah, England.