Time for a break

I started this week with a resolve to take breaks every now and then, get up, stretch my legs, drink tea and just get back in to it.

As it’s now – checks watch – 13.10 and I’ve been at it since first thing this morning I don’t seem to be doing very well in the resolution stakes, do I?

So I’m taking a break, enjoying a cuppa and stretching my brain in a different direction…

Sunday I took Soph off to the hotel where we got married.

Not straight there, first we stopped in Abergavenny, had a coffee, walked about, people-watched and so on.

Then we drove to the top of a mountain and walked about a bit – on past Foxhunter’s Grave and up to the Trig Point on The Blorenge peak, from where we worked out we could see five counties and two countries:

  • Monmouthshire
  • Herefordshire
  • Worcestershire
  • Somerset, and
  • Powys

Oh yes, and England and Wales, being the two countries.

With the cobwebs blown right out of our heads we got back in the car and meandered down off the mountain and away to the hotel.

Where a wedding was in the offing.

So let me ask a question – two questions.

Do women really wear stuff like that on their heads at weddings these days? Or was it simply an elaborate family joke which everyone else wouldn’t get?

For a brief moment it was like being in the Extreme End of the royal enclosure at Ascot Ladies Day.

I saw one woman who looked as though she was wearing a massively over-sized version of the kind of foliage that my Pimm’s would usually arrive with.

All that was missing was a crow in the upper branches and I’d have been looking at a not-very-mini-representation of the upper foliage of the New Forest.

Kin bonkers.


After a little bit of chortling at the various styles of head-dress (and a gasp of wonder at the worst case of mutton masquerading as lamb ever!) we went up to our room and against my best intentions there may have been some naughty bed-related activity.


A little before 7.30, freshly scrubbed and smartly dressed, we tottered down to the bar where we sat, aperitif’d and made high-level executive decisions about our next load of calorific intake.

Which somehow, miraculously, turned in to a five course meal – go figure!

Later, feeling very well fed, we rolled upstairs with our fat little bellies, flopped in to bed and – it’s fair to say – suffered a broken night’s sleep as a result of our gluttony.

The following morning we still had cooked breakfast though!

We tottered around the grounds, snapping photographs like a pair of tourists, then went back to our room where more cuddling was had.

Then we packed, paid, left and made our way to Worcester and a small amount of shopping took place and then on homewards.

As soon as we arrived I fixed the podcast website which had been hacked again. Bastards. It only took 28 seconds but that’s not the point. I could have fixed it from Wales except I had made a conscious decision not to take the laptop. Oh well.

I’ve replaced the design for now, because those charming little rogues are not getting in through the root or to the base of the website, so I suspect there’s a security vulnerability in the template that I have been using. Ho hum.

I need a php expert to debug that wordpress theme for me. Or perhaps I need to learn php and debug it myself. Because I have so much time on my hands… 🙂

Last night we had an early night, I think we were in bed before 19.30.

Two episodes of Angel filled the time between hitting the sheets and eyes closing for the night.

The shattering alarm this morning was not pleasant but I had a soft/firm and very beautiful woman in my arms, so waking couldn’t have been any better. Except for the alarm.

And that’s it really: travelled, walked, talked (there was, it must be said, much talking between us), people-watched, ate, travelled…

I haven’t even mentioned the Amazing Drunk Woman in the restaurant at dinner! So many things, so little time.

Speaking of, it’s now 13.38 and time I had something to eat.

Speak later.

But before I go… How was your weekend? Did you get up to anything or did you choose to use the Bank Holiday (if you had one) to just veg out?

B. x

Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Time for a break

  1. Susie says:

    Well, if you want to REALLY see mutton dressed as lamb, and ridiculous headwear, you need to be here, in rural France, where the elderly drunk who has been fucking my husband for the last three years regularly turns up at the local pub quiz, where locals wear jeans and T-shirts, dressed in stiletto heels, elbow-length gloves, tight little two-piece suits, diamante headbands with feathers sticking out of them, or wild turbans with huge wings, and glitter stuck all over her face. Variously described by bemused onlookers as a cross between a clown and a hooker, and an extra from a 30s musical comedy, if you haven’t seen it, you haven’t lived. 🙂


  2. Citronella says:

    Oh, I thought that in order to protest against my lack of a Bank Holiday, it would be perfectly suitable to have a stupid row with my boyfriend, and be entirely responsible (due to my own ridiculous insecurities) for all of it (including the lingering subsequent feeling of misery).

    A great week-end, really.

  3. LizSara says:

    I want to see the hooker clown now.

    I did nothing at all, apart from read books all weekend, hoorah!