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Monday, March 16, 2009

After writing yesterday's blog post, I was informed by Big Sis that the plane we hired for the afternoon didn't cost £302 an hour. Apparently it's a lot more expensive than that. I should have known that price list was out of date. Only five quid a minute? People would be biting your hand off for that kind of deal.

But money aside, here we all are at the The Stableyard yesterday afternoon...

Five Go Horsing Around
That picture was taken with my camera on the windowsill of our apartment, which gives you an idea of just how at-one with nature we were during our stay. Frankly I've never slept so close to manure.

Apparently he's only a puppy.Not only were we surrounded by horses, but the dogs were the size of ponies. That's not drool dripping from his mouth, it's the remains of the last person he ate.

But anyhoo, if you're wondering who the fifth member of our party is, it's not Big Sis's flying instructor (or Roy Orbison), it's actually my Aunt. She lives in St Ives, a forty-five minute drive (or ten minute flight) from the horse box we called home, so she popped over to join us for Sunday lunch.

Lisa, Amelie and I had been into central Milton Keynes with Big Sis on Saturday night, where we chose to stick our necks out and eat at a place called Giraffe. The food was nice, but judging by the speed of the service, it should have been called Sloth.

So on Sunday we decided to stay closer to home and try The Cock Inn. No, seriously...

The Cock Inn
It might sound like a tavern from a Carry On film, but it's actually a pub in Wootton. At first I assumed its name was just a quirk of centuries-old tradition, but having met the owner, I'm not so sure. He made Graham Norton look like Jim Davidson. Frankly I think he named it himself.

So we walked in, asked for the lunch menu, and were told we could have a roast dinner with beef, or... a roast dinner with lamb. The vegetarian option was a roast dinner with neither. But this is where personal service comes into play. Despite having a menu you could write on a post-it note, the owner discussed the problem with us, admonished Big Sis for being a veggie, and then rustled up two very nice meals for the awkward members of our party, served with a side order of camp comedy. Personally I loved it. It was like eating at Alan Carr's house.

Anyhoo, having been in negotiations with Big Sis for most of yesterday afternoon, the good news is that I now have permission to move on from photos to video. So if you've ever wondered how hard it is to hold a camera still whilst landing in a small plane, then wonder no more...


The way the instructor keeps slumping forward, I wasn't sure if he was adopting the crash position or having a heart attack. Either way, I decided to keep filming.

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