So then high winds were forecast today, that was the main reason we moored down here below this nice hedge. This morning a fair few boats went past. I gave them pitying glances as they were were going to be swept about. Most of the boater had smiley faces and waved cheerily. Then the sun came out. Still no high winds. Ummm
We both read a bit then David got twitchy and suggested a bike ride, I thought I could have stayed home and written blog posts but like a good wife I said “What could be nicer” and off we went.
|Our mooring today, nice and sheltered.|
The village of Burton Hastings was close by and we headed that way. Lovely old cottages that I love not to smart and chocolate box looking but as if they are lived in by real people. Then right opposite was a truly ghastly monster. A great big brick angular house with security gate and a Range Rover parked outside. Statues in the garden worthy of a Man U player I would have thought but very out of place here. But I suppose if you are inside it then you don’t have to look at it.
We carried on heading well frankly anywhere that might sell the required newspaper. Out into open countryside and over some motorway or another. By now we were in the general direction of Nuneaton also unmissable were cans of Red Bull and MacDonald wrappers at regular intervals. I wondered if the same person has the same each day and slings it out of the car along the same stretch of the road or just lots of people doing the same.
By now the expected wind had arrived and didn’t we know it. If you don’t know Reader cycling into a breeze makes it much much harder. Cycling into a small gale is almost misery. So feeling like I have cycled 40 miles, cars whizzing by you into a gale and I was beginning to regret being that nice kind wife.
Well he got the very last copy of his paper and we headed back through Nuneaton proper. There was a farm almost in the centre of this suburb that has had houses creep closer and closer till they now surround the farm buildings.
Well I was glad to be back home I can tell you. Then it poured and poured so it was good timing. As we sat drinking, his hippy green tea and my lemon water (What a pair?) with a fat slice of naughty fruity flapjack the local campanologists started their practice, they were not very good but how lovely to have the chance to listen.
Supper was Salmon, new potatoes and french beans.