The time of year

We're back home now and the domestic routine is kicking in. An empty fridge means a trip to Waitrose was planned for this morning and decisions to be made. What to eat?

When we left, all was summer - strawberries, raspberries, salads. This morning, sure enough there were still plenty of berries and salad stuff, but somehow I wanted to buy root vegetables and mushrooms - and then I spotted the dark beauties over in the corner.

The damsons had arrived. That means one thing for us - Damson Gin.

A speedy decanting of last year's Damson Gin into bottles was called for, making the demi-john available for the new crop. Oh, and of course, we had to do a full and thorough sampling to make sure it met with our strict product standards.

Do you think the fruit crumble will pass muster?

Hotel Art - Siem Reap

Well, I suppose choosing art to put on the walls here is a bit of a no brainer. The black and white images of Angkor which line the walls of every corridor and room in the hotel are an interesting record of how the site has altered in just a few short years.

In addition to the Angkor photography, there are attractive buddhist sculptures here and there, adding a real sense of place to each room.

And just to fool us, we looked at this poster once or twice before reading on the side label that it's a book jacket from 1997. So much for our original thought that it was a 1930s travel advert.

One last special day (4)

Returning from Bayon, we stopped to have a look around the Preah Kahn ruins, yet another remarkable place with outstanding features which set it apart from the other three sites we'd visited earlier in the day. As we left the car, it was raining hard but we didn't care - it was a refreshing way of cooling us down in the steamy afternoon heat.

Overgrown and a little more dilapidated than the other ruins, Preah Kahn was nevertheless a fascinating place, probably the site of a Buddhist university at some point.

We loved the loneliness of this site, probably because we were there in the late afternoon when most people had gone and in the peace and quiet, it was at its most atmospheric.

A few children scampered around, picking herbs here and there which Kinam told us are for the typical Khmer stir fry they'd be eating for dinner tonight.

I think I feel a log cabin quilt of some description coming on!

One last special day (3)

After lunch and a short siesta, we moved on to Angkor Thom and the central ruin, the Bayon, another atmospheric temple which I enjoyed but Mark found creepy.

54 towers and 216 (different) stone faces, well preserved and adorned with more intricate carvings.

More picturesque flashes of saffron, breathtaking glimpses through doorways and framed faces amongst the broken ruin.

We wandered around this intriguing place alone for most of the time, for although there were other people here, the architecture of the place meant that it was easy to escape the others.

One last special day (2)

On then, to Angkor Wat itself, star of the show - but in reality, only a small starring role. The best preserved of the whole set of buildings, the most crowded and possibly the least atmospheric, it was nevertheless breathtaking with so many finely preserved bas relief carvings still in place.

How's this for a repeat pattern? The bas relief along this, the Eastern gallery depicts the churning of the sea of milk, one of four galleries showing Hindu myths and Khmer history. All were patiently explained and features pointed out, for which we were very grateful - we loved seeing the small details in particular and were not only amazed at how finely the carvings had been done but also how well preserved they are.

Almost every square inch was carved with the most intricate patterns and motifs and many remain complete. The lack of colour highlights the work particularly well, we think.

So when there's a sudden burst of saffron, orange and hot pink, it quite takes the breath away - as here, in a small temple with a rather special buddha.

So many wonderful corners to explore, to delight and to try to record. Impossible, really.