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Tuesday, August 29th, 2006 11:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
caddymanSaturday morning, before I forget, was prezzies all round as my consignment of books from Amazon, my season two DVDs of Battlestar Galactica from Play.com and Miss Furtle’s Angel plushie from e-bay all arrived at the same time.
Like Christmas it was.
Part of the weekend – Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning was spent up in South Cambridge chez![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wallabok for his birthday bash. ellefurtle and I drove up in the borrowed and soon to be sold Pa Furtle Saab, making only one navigating error on the way due to insufficient signposting dropping us in the middle of Baldock instead of the newly opened bypass. Miss Furtle is a shy flower, but she coped well with being surrounded by people and kids she didn’t know very well, though a restorative wander out in the direction of the interestingly named Fowlmere provided a welcome break. It’s a shame we didn’t strike out maybe an hour earlier: Fowlmere is only a mile and a half away across the fields, but about halfway there it was clearly beginning to get dark, so we horseshoed back across other fields and along the road back to Foxton to save us from getting lost in rural Cambridgeshire without a torch etc.
I still have no idea if Fowlmere has either ducks or a lake. Maybe I’ll find out next time.
Mine host was and is a confused fellow, being half German and half Swedish. Foxton is routinely referred to as “Fuchsdorf” and the “White Horse” pub as the “Prancing Pony”. I mention this latter simply because as we were wandering back into the village and headed for the pub to partake of a refreshing sherbet as the twilight darkened, I was absolutely certain that I heard hoof falls but there were no horses to be seen. Were there seven riders behind us and if so, where were the remaining two? Imagination can be a poor thing to have during twilight in the country…
Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday were largely spent lounging. Despite it only being Tuesday today, I am finding it very hard to separate the two out in my memory as we contrived to be quite idly tired for much of the time, watching probably more of season two of The West Wing than is strictly wise.
Like Christmas it was.
Part of the weekend – Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning was spent up in South Cambridge chez
wallabok for his birthday bash. ellefurtle and I drove up in the borrowed and soon to be sold Pa Furtle Saab, making only one navigating error on the way due to insufficient signposting dropping us in the middle of Baldock instead of the newly opened bypass. Miss Furtle is a shy flower, but she coped well with being surrounded by people and kids she didn’t know very well, though a restorative wander out in the direction of the interestingly named Fowlmere provided a welcome break. It’s a shame we didn’t strike out maybe an hour earlier: Fowlmere is only a mile and a half away across the fields, but about halfway there it was clearly beginning to get dark, so we horseshoed back across other fields and along the road back to Foxton to save us from getting lost in rural Cambridgeshire without a torch etc.I still have no idea if Fowlmere has either ducks or a lake. Maybe I’ll find out next time.
Mine host was and is a confused fellow, being half German and half Swedish. Foxton is routinely referred to as “Fuchsdorf” and the “White Horse” pub as the “Prancing Pony”. I mention this latter simply because as we were wandering back into the village and headed for the pub to partake of a refreshing sherbet as the twilight darkened, I was absolutely certain that I heard hoof falls but there were no horses to be seen. Were there seven riders behind us and if so, where were the remaining two? Imagination can be a poor thing to have during twilight in the country…
Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday were largely spent lounging. Despite it only being Tuesday today, I am finding it very hard to separate the two out in my memory as we contrived to be quite idly tired for much of the time, watching probably more of season two of The West Wing than is strictly wise.