First day back at work after a lovely long week at Forty Acres where Phil and I enjoyed days of endless sunshine, a pile of good books, and fine food and wine in deepest darkest (sunniest) Herefordshire.
After spending Sunday at Dinedor with dad and Jean, TJBR and Jean’s parents, we ventured out on Bank Holiday Monday to sample the (as it turned out, limited) delights of Peterchurch Show & Sports before driving on to Hay-on-Wye for afternoon tea at the Granary (their service is sooooooo slow) and a mooch in the bookshops.
We didn’t go out again until Thursday when we entertained dad and Jean and Jean’s aunt Jean to morning coffee after which we all headed down to Abbey Dore, and lunched at Abbey Dore Court, and then in the evening dad drove us all over to Crickhowell for dinner at The Bear to mark their wedding anniversary.
Drove out to Monmouth and Ross-on-Wye on Friday, returning with more books and a bag full of tasty goodies from Truffles (veggie scotch eggs – heaven! – from the Handmade Scotch Egg Company), and on Saturday we headed into Hereford to sample the delights of the farmers’ market and shops generally.
Saturday afternoon saw dad and Jean arrive for reading and relaxation (Jean) and mowing (dad) followed by a fantastic BBQ courtesy of dad and the Hereford Butter Market butchers.
The rest of the time Phil and I simply pottered – reading out on the sunsoaked patio, moving out onto the lawn as the shadows lengthened, cooking and baking cakes, practising guitar and Japanese (both Phil’s!) and watching old episodes of James Burke’s Connections.
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.
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!!
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.
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.