Mr and Mrs G Go To Lunch

Tuesday began well. I had listened to the wrong weather report on the BBC, so I was expecting rain and strong winds all day long...but at 5.30 with the sun just about ready to rise over the maize fields at the back of the stables, I realised that the light dusting of frost on the grass had nothing to do with precipitation and the wind chimes were as silent as the grave. A good omen.

The weather forecast was for Sri Lanka. We live at the edge the Cotswolds. Nuff said!

So, we took off for the last free day until our sons return from foreign fields to take over some of the day to day duties in the little vintage shop that Mrs G and I run singly and together.

We bundled Coco into the back of the Rover and headed out toward the Forest Of Dean. Listened to a bit of Presley on the way. God knows why! Four songs in and he began to sound like a second rate impersonator. In my humble opinion. Give me Stina Nordenstam any day...

The riverside restaurant on the Wye was quite crowded. The sky was blue, the sun was hot and we played musical tables until we found one that suited us. Forester's Lunch (local meats, local cheeses and giant pickled onions) was the choice for both of us, different meats, different cheeses...shared chips!

Beastie under the table profited from my glazed ham. I ate all of the Welsh Brie. Red Bull in a wine glass with ice and lime is my tipple of choice (pretentious? Moi?) while Mrs G went for a diet something.

The walk along the Wye was nothing less than spectacular and inspiring too. Perfect plotting locations everywhere we looked.

Then, at the car park, we found the Rover hemmed in by several badly parked cars. But, I have a foghorn voice when I need it and the drivers soon came running to free us.

We ambled away through the forest listening to Queen's Greatest Hits...a matter of opinion once more...I'd prefer Joni or Prince...

I did some bank business in Ross and we ambled through a couple of antique stores before racing over to a daughter in Malvern in time for the school run. Two granddaughters, two schools...rush hour...fun!

An hour or two of silliness and we were back on the road heading toward Gloucester and home.

Nine saw us driving son to station, stopping on the way for more Red Bull, then we bade farewell and watched him drift into the far distance, Coco wondering where in blazes he had disappeared to. We tried not to shed a tear, drove home to recover.

Oh Goodness! The house is empty. We're alone (apart from Coco, Dinky the cat and Cardinal Richelieu the Goldfish)

Mr and Mrs G go to bed.

That's another story.