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3 hours into our journey, the scenery greened, the roads thinned and the petrol prices rose.First stop was to feed the horses.
What a beautiful village the family lived in. Their house 300 plus years old. A garden which met the horizon. A neighbour 2 miles down the road. Two dogs, a duck and a flock of sheep. Thats what you call the real countryside.
We were welcomed with warmth... and a glass of wine.
As I sat and unconsciously rubbed my handy bag sized anti-bacterial hand sanitizer into my palms, the surrealism spasmed my mother-in-law into hysteria. I'm sitting sanitising my hands as I watch the two dogs, Shorty and Trixie, Duck Duck (the duck!!) all of whom they share their home with, walk around the house freely playing with my boys. Dog hairs coated the seat of my trousers, the duck eating out of the dog bowl, the sheep eating bread in the garden... and I'm worried I've got germs on my hands, let alone dog hair in my cake. OY VEY.
The Bubela was in awe of Duck Duck. Constantly trying to pick her up as she waddled away quack quack-ing. He searched the garden for mis-laid eggs (he found two). More photo's of our weekend here
The hotel we stayed in was magnificent. 600 plus years old. Our room was glorious, albeit the floor was of an inclined radient as steep as the Malvern Hills which overlooked us out of the window.
Seriously, when in bed we rolled clockwise. Me into Hubby and the poor little Nosh in the Zed-bed couldn't keep himself in the bed. We had to make a ditch of pillows for him to roll into. I couldn't relax and sleep for fear that he would roll under a bed somewhere never to be seen again.
