One thing I forgot to mention about Devizes is that it smells faintly of manure. I spent most of Friday evening thinking that one of us had trodden in dog poo, before eventually realising that the aroma was wafting in through the windows. Every time we get a gentle spring breeze, the house smells like a public toilet. I think Sis has become acclimatised and doesn't notice, and obviously I'm far too polite to mention it, but it's beginning to put me off my doughnuts.
That aside though, we're having a whale of a time in Wiltshire. Yesterday we headed into Devizes town centre and sampled everything it has to offer. That didn't take long. The indoor market is known as The Shambles, and having visited, I can see why. It makes Poundland look aspirational. Beyond that, the town's really just a collection of charity shops and small independent retailers. I did find a flower shop called Ammi, but sadly I couldn't get her to stand in front of it for a photo.
So instead, I recreated Forrest Gump on a bench...
I was trying to get them to look like the pictures in the background, but whilst Amelie's doing a good job of impersonating a lipstick, and Big Sis could well be Indian, I feel Lisa's letting the side down with her innocent baby face. She's more of a cheeky toddler.
Shopping done, and plantar fasciitis considerably worsened, we returned to Big Sis's house for a family sing-song around the old Joanna...
We're like Elton John and Kiki Dee. Or possibly Hinge & Bracket.
Anyhoo, once Amelie and her moo-moo were packed off to bed, Big Sis agreed to babysit while Lisa and I headed out for something to eat. We ended up at the Hourglass, a pub around the corner which serves middle-of-the-road food at Michelin-starred prices. It's on the banks of a canal, so Sis claims you pay for the location, but sadly by the time we got there, it was too dark to see the abandoned shopping trolleys and floating condoms. Frankly we could have been anywhere. Or anywhere else. And in many ways, we wished we were.
To be fair, the food was fine, and the surroundings reasonable, but if I'm paying fifteen quid for a main course, I like to feel I'm eating something I couldn't have picked up in Asda. And when the desserts all cost a fiver, I want more than just a square of syrup sponge and one scoop of ice cream. Mind you, I'd have wanted that whatever the price.
Ultimately though, I think it's important to leave them with a tip. So I helpfully pointed out the spelling mistakes on the menu, and walked out with my money in my pocket.