Hiya! Remember me? I used to write a blog until I waltzed off, without so much as a by your leave, and abandoned it.
- I've been flat out. Flat. Out. Work stuff, social stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff.
- I broke a finger nail*.
- I've been working on a couple of extremely intellectual and high brow posts (which are taking some time ...)
- I'm feeling a bit meh. Lots to think about and not enough to say. I haven't really known quite what to write without being a moper, which is dull. So I've taken my mother's advice. ("Young lady! If you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all, thank you VERY much! Now DO put on some lipstick dear, or you'll never find a husband**.")
- I've been away. I left Tooting (*gasp*) and went on a mini-break in the Cotswolds. So would you like to hear about it? Here's my ten point Weekend Report ...
2) The people I went away with are all Figaro owners. That's how we all met, but not why we're all friends. We're friends because ... well, just because we are really. But for reasons that are too many (and too expensive) to go into, my Fig spent the weekend on the
Naughty Step, and I hired a shiny, new, non-vintage motor instead. Figaros are automatic, and my hire car was a manual, so I've spent the last couple of weeks worrying about whether I can still remember where to put my feet, but the BRAND NEW (!) Golf that I was given proved very forgiving, and I've had a blissful weekend jetting around the countryside. Vroom vroom!
3) Towards the end of my journey, a text message arrives. "I'm here. It's a bugger to find." And it was. Side roads off main roads. Lanes off side roads. Drives off lanes. Private gates. But it was worth finding when I did.
4) Lots of hellos. Lots of welcomes. Lots of exploring our beautiful home for the weekend. Lots of warm laughter and cups of tea. Lots of unpacking bags of goodies and ooohing and ahhhhing at the contents.
5) We play a game. Apples to Apples. I can recommend it most heartily. Players take it in turns to turn a green card, and then lay a red card from their hand which most adequately matches it. Of course, sometimes it's easier than others to find an apt match. Our efforts to meet the description "dirty" showed that hairballs were deemed the dirtiest, but chorus girls come a close second.
6) Saturday morning. I wake up to the smell of bacon frying. Nom nom nom.
7) Everyone gets their boots and coats on to head to a nearby Cotswold village, but I decide to stay behind and mooch. Intentions to go for a walk are thwarted by bad weather, so I explore our house instead. Amongst other things I find windows with views I can't get enough of ...
... and windows that are tantalisingly out of range ...
8) We head out for a night on the town, in our own particular style; dinner at a lovely restaurant. We enjoy amuse bouche of celeriac soup, assiette of beef, pork tenderloin, and a heavenly cheeseboard. It's all cool and sophisticated. As we leave the restaurant in down-town Cheltenham, a hen party, resplendent in pink feather boas and white heels are fighting in the street, and for all our cool sophistication, we can't help pointing and laughing.
9) On Sunday morning the group divides; those who want to lounge and those who want fresh air. We walk along drives and lanes to the village church, where we shuffle around the church yard and soak up atmosphere. I was particularly touched by this small plaque towards the top of the hill which reads, "Goodbye. We'll miss you. Enjoy the view." So I did.
10) Officially the coolest thing I saw all weekend. Behind the church is a smallholding, and as we walked close to the fence, we saw the inhabitants of the closest field. They didn't take much convincing to come and investigate whether we'd brought food (we hadn't), and to have a good snuffle around whilst they were there. Really. Tell me. If you've ever seen a cooler hairy pig thing, tell me. Because I think this dude wins prizes.
* That's not a real excuse. I'm trying to find reasons to justify my absence. Humour me.
** In a film of my life, my mother will be played by Maureen Lipman.
** In a film of my life, my mother will be played by Maureen Lipman.
Maureen Lipman will have her hands full. She's been pencilled in to play my mother in the film of my life ever since the BT adverts back in the Eighties.
ReplyDeleteI love it! It's just perfect :)
ReplyDeleteAnd the pig wins the prize of best thing all weekend for me. Though a pre-breakfast breakfast of chocolate cake comes a close second.