Forty Acres Weekend

Lovely relaxing weekend at Forty Acres, dining at Dinedor before heading on in dad’s BMW to the cottage. Lots of sleeping and a positively mid-summer day on Saturday. We spent our daylight hours sitting out on the patio reading. Having packed for the chills of mid-October, I didn’t have anything to light – and ended up stripping down to my underwear bikini.

Cuckoo busy. Sheeps baa-ing. Pheasants being dim (as usual). Admired dad’s new paths, and the proposed line of the Forty Acres Railway.

Weekending at Forty Acres…

Phew! Phil and I had a very lazy weekend at the cottage, only really “doing” anything on Sat afternoon, when we went into Hereford and bought food goodies from the “european” market they were holding the the city centre – it was a mix of a farmer’s market and one of those french travelling ones. Good food all round!

Then motored up to Leominster, where we mooched the antique shoppes and Phil bought a few pieces of blue/white stripe cornishware crockery.

Resolutely cloudy all the time, and we didn’t get a sloping front train on the journey back!!

I Return R-E-L-A-X-E-D

Back from a lovely relaxing weekend at dad’s which saw us venture up to Leominster (great ‘antique’ shops!) and to Forty Acres to view the snowdrops on Saturday, winding up at The Neville Arms for dinner.

On Sunday, I slobbed under the duvet in the lounge in front of Hollyoaks whilst dad and jean were at church, until being shamed from my stupor and out for a gentle stroll to Holme Lacy church, where dad showed me the heroic gravestone statue of the last of the local gentry, and we all admired the snowdrops.

Returned bearing Christmas gifts – principally a swanky breadmaker from dad and Jean, but also a large scale OS map of the world (with wipe-off surface, so I’m planning to plot H’s route whilst she’s in South America) and a nifty tripod-for-all-surfaces.

Near miss at Paddington

Phew – I so early missed the 17:00 train to dad’s. Things started off fine – left work at 4.15, straight onto a Metropolitan line train to Baker Street, which is where things began to go awry. 12 minutes to wait until the next train via Paddington – and that’s with both the Hammersmith and City and the Circle line travelling along the same track. The Bakerloo alternative isn’t running during the day Mondays to Friday, so I just had to sit (or rather “pace”) it out until 16.49. Six mins journey time to Paddington, and I had no idea where the pink line tube station is within the grand scheme of things at the mainline station.

Once out of the tube and on the platform it appeared that there is only one staircase out, and people were going up and down it, excruciatingly slowly. I inched my way forward as fast as possible without barging my way completely into people’s bad books, and ran as soon as the walkway opened up ahead of me.

Through the barriers Lady Luck returned as I came out onto the overhead walkways which cross the main platforms half way down their length, and I managed to spot the West Wales train and scrambled on board with one minute to spare.

And once I’ve caught my breath and relaxed a little, I shall read the Marie Claire article on D, Q and G’s polyamorous relationship.