Country Pursuits
Apologies for the radio silence. The thing is...(there's always a thing)...my prediction was correct and the Husband did in fact whisk me off on an adventure - way beyond the reach of the Internet as it turns out.
But first, I had to escape the clutches of Lady Pumpernickel, who was most pleased at the sight of the Husband. When he strode into her kitchen in his AC/DC T-shirt and jeans (looking a little this side of grrr) she rubbed her wrinkled hands together and remarked, "OOH, how nice, a man! There are rather too many women around here."
I think she saw a future for them when she shook his hand and realised that he too was *digitally challenged. *By this I don't mean he has trouble counting, he's very numerically literate, but the husband is missing the top half of three fingers (unfortunate fishing incident) and Lady Pumpernickel is minus her right index finger (unfortunate gardening incident).
Eventually we extricated ourselves from Pumpernickel's nine fingered power grip and headed into the Wild. Our destination was the country lodgings of the Husband's old friend and his Mediteranean girlfriend - a rather unconventional couple living in a slightly ramshackle lodging, in a beautiful location. Once there we spent marvellous days drinking cups of tea, walking in ancient woodlands and catching river crayfish - all rather hearty country pursuits.
What I fail to mention is that the house and it's cleanliness levels are a spot BOHEMIAN. A sprinkle of dog hair in your butter is standard. A coating of dust on the carpet counts as extra insulation. In such an Eco-friendly environment hot water is only heated for special events and so bathing is not top priority. In order to prove our green credentials the Husband and I went 4 days without bathing (which along with turning your underwear inside out is standard practice in the country). Luckily, the pong beginning to emanate from each other was great for keeping a distance so that my over-active hair follicles appear to have gone unnoticed.
Of course today when we arrived back in the City we were a little riper than the locals. Despite my brief encounter with a wet wipe the Husband's sister, greeted us with a slightly peaked nostril. I'd seen that look once before when, in my youth, I had returned from a music festival and my father had greeted me with the flared nasal cavity. In that case I was denied access to the house until I had been hosed down with a pressure washer on the driveway.
Despite the lack of hygiene I'm in love with the country. The best part is the Bohemians have offered us a home. Rent Free! On old bus at the end of their garden emboldened with the slogan, "Jesus loves you!." It's missing a window, has no electricity or water and may involve a life of pooping in a bucket and wet wipes.
Father, best power up that pressure washer...
But first, I had to escape the clutches of Lady Pumpernickel, who was most pleased at the sight of the Husband. When he strode into her kitchen in his AC/DC T-shirt and jeans (looking a little this side of grrr) she rubbed her wrinkled hands together and remarked, "OOH, how nice, a man! There are rather too many women around here."
I think she saw a future for them when she shook his hand and realised that he too was *digitally challenged. *By this I don't mean he has trouble counting, he's very numerically literate, but the husband is missing the top half of three fingers (unfortunate fishing incident) and Lady Pumpernickel is minus her right index finger (unfortunate gardening incident).
Eventually we extricated ourselves from Pumpernickel's nine fingered power grip and headed into the Wild. Our destination was the country lodgings of the Husband's old friend and his Mediteranean girlfriend - a rather unconventional couple living in a slightly ramshackle lodging, in a beautiful location. Once there we spent marvellous days drinking cups of tea, walking in ancient woodlands and catching river crayfish - all rather hearty country pursuits.
What I fail to mention is that the house and it's cleanliness levels are a spot BOHEMIAN. A sprinkle of dog hair in your butter is standard. A coating of dust on the carpet counts as extra insulation. In such an Eco-friendly environment hot water is only heated for special events and so bathing is not top priority. In order to prove our green credentials the Husband and I went 4 days without bathing (which along with turning your underwear inside out is standard practice in the country). Luckily, the pong beginning to emanate from each other was great for keeping a distance so that my over-active hair follicles appear to have gone unnoticed.
Of course today when we arrived back in the City we were a little riper than the locals. Despite my brief encounter with a wet wipe the Husband's sister, greeted us with a slightly peaked nostril. I'd seen that look once before when, in my youth, I had returned from a music festival and my father had greeted me with the flared nasal cavity. In that case I was denied access to the house until I had been hosed down with a pressure washer on the driveway.
Despite the lack of hygiene I'm in love with the country. The best part is the Bohemians have offered us a home. Rent Free! On old bus at the end of their garden emboldened with the slogan, "Jesus loves you!." It's missing a window, has no electricity or water and may involve a life of pooping in a bucket and wet wipes.
Father, best power up that pressure washer...
Hoorah you're back! :)
ReplyDeleteWas getting rather anxious about my state of Internetlessness. But don't panic back now :)
ReplyDelete