This has been a funny old week, and therefore this entry is both late and somehow insubstantial.
I’ve been FL (first life) most of it.
Last weekend (Saturday – Monday) Thom and I went away FL to a nice little village on the Nottinghamshire/Leicestershire border and spent a few days in a little cottage. It was a converted barn. We normally like to arrive together, so as to minimise the ‘dirty weekend’ feel and maximise the ‘we are a normal couple who wanted to go away for a few days’ image to the owners.
This time however, travelling together was impractical and a much shorter journey was had by both of us simply meeting up there.
We had vaguely discussed meeting at a pub nearby and leaving one car there so that we could assume our respectable images, but as Thom was not around on my arrival and I didn’t fancy sitting half an hour alone in a busy pub, I went to the cottage alone.
I was dying for a wee, so got there, parked up, let myself in (he had told me the key would be under the doormat) and relieved myself (oioi).
I had just begun to look around when there was a knock at the door so I answered it and it was the lady owner asking if all was okay and if Thom had received the email she had sent him in confirmation saying where they key was. I said he had but she was obviously kind of peering round me to check that he wasn’t there. So I said, ‘He’s not here yet, possibly lost his way or been delayed, but he shouldn’t be long’ She offered that I could call him from her house but I respectfully declined and with one last glance at my empty wedding finger, she smiled and left.
I’m probably over sensitive but I find this kind of thing a little embarrassing since once we stayed in a hotel and I got lost in the hotel after stropping off due to a row we had in the lift (yeah I know). I had found my way back to reception and unable to remember the room number, I asked the guy on reception to put a call through to the room so I could speak to Thom and find the room. He asked if I was his wife (?!?) I mean! In this day and age. I said, if I tell you that I am his wife, will you let me speak to him? He said yes, I said ‘then yes I am’ Grrrr.
So yeah… anyway, back to this weekend. Thom arrived and all was well, we loved the place and set off to the next village to find a shop. On the way out of the shop, we bumped into the woman cottage owner and I introduced Thom. She was very nice and asked ‘Are you staying here for anything special?’.
We both umm’d and I looked at my feet and Thom said ‘Er, no just a relaxing break’ and we passed it off.
This is my ‘word’ to all accommodation owners… you know why we’re there, we know why we’re there, please please please do not ask. It just makes us all feel awkward.
That night we went to the village pub for a couple of hours and had a few beers, they had really gone to some effort to make the place lovely, lotsa flowers and little details that made it nice (along with a very active fountain that made you pee constantly)
The locals seemed fine, if a tad posh – ‘a bit horse and hound’ was how Thom put it, and it was, but we liked it anyway. We sat inside for a while and I noticed some guys by the bar, one of which had a very green rugby shirt on and when he turned *horrors* I saw it said ‘Bollocks to Blair’
Cripes – I mean, how umm
Well, in my local he’d get the crap beaten out of him for wearing it, but we weren’t in my local so that didn’t happen, we just snickered at him quietly.
And also… how very out of date. I just can’t imagine anyone thinking ‘Yes, that is it, that is the item I want to wear to go out on Saturday night’
The rest of the weekend passed peaceably enough, we watched some DVD’s, I did some nice cooking and we enjoyed the beautiful surroundings.
The weather has been bleugh this week, I’ve felt bleugh this week and thus the title of the blog. I’m hoping next week will be less bleugh and more Yay!
Now I’m going to take some painkillers, lie down and listen to Stephen Fry read Harry Potter – the ultimate comfort.
Chaste cheek kisses to you all, thanks for reading xox