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Saturday, April 23, 2011

Well, we're back at last in sunny Wiltshire. I remember when all of this was just fields. It was yesterday, when we drove through it. To be honest, I'm not sure what possessed Big Sis to move here. I'm not saying it's remote, but her house is like the one at the end of the Blair Witch Project. Or it will be once Amelie gets going with the hand-prints.

Our holiday started well when I stepped outside into the sunshine yesterday morning, topped up my car with screenwash, and broke the catch which holds the bonnet closed. It would almost stay shut, but I had some slight concerns that it might spring open at 70mph on the M25. As it transpired, there was an accident near junction 10, so we rarely got above walking pace, but I didn't know that at the time, so I called the AA. They advised me not to turn to drink, and told us that the problem was living by the sea. Apparently the salty air had rusted the mechanism and caused it to seize up.

Fortunately, having greased the man's palm, he did the same for my bonnet catch, and five minutes later, he'd got the whole thing working again. It was an open and shut case.

So an hour later than planned, we finally hit the road. Our journey across rural England was very pleasant, particularly when we drove through the attractively named village of Ludgershall, and saw this establishment...

I wish I'd stopped to take a photo, instead of relying on Google Street View. That sign looks as broken as the pun.

Obviously I love a stupidly named shop as much as the next man, and in Ludgershall the next man's got a stupid name too. This is the shop next door...

No Relation
It just goes to show, when you see an excruciating pun, you know you're never far from a Gardner.

Anyhoo, we arrived at Big Sis's house in the middle of the afternoon. The last time we were here, her front door was more like death's door, and since getting here yesterday, I have developed a bit of a sore throat, but that might just be from asking for more doughnuts every five minutes. Her house is on three floors, so you need to fill up on carbohydrates just to get to bed.

My parents visited here a couple of weeks ago, and warned us not to expect Sis to have any food in the house, but to our surprise, she greeted us with the news that she'd stocked up on tea bags ready for our arrival, and offered to make us a cup. Having tasted it, I thought she was trying to poison us, but as it turned out, she'd bought Twinings Earl Grey from the local garage. They obviously sell it to people driving Bentleys.

Having explained to Sis that Earl Grey isn't the same as Ty-phoo, I happily saved the day by revealing that I'd brought a few teabags from home, so we all relaxed and put the kettle on again. At which point we discovered that she'd run out of milk. It's no wonder I turned to doughnuts.

Anyhoo, as I write this, it's coming up to 10am and all three of the ladies in my life are still in bed. Clearly it's not just the villages around here which are sleepy...


Phil's Dad said...

So it's the joys of going to a crowded Morrisons in the heat of an Easter Saturday!
Perhaps you should put a notice on Big Sis's front door advertising her place as THE establishment to lose weight.
But if you complain and get told to take a running jump, you'll find a duck pond situated conveniently across the road from Morrisons!

Dave said...

I drink Earl Grey.  It's very refreshing.

adam said...

i do not get the intended pun of my Father's butcher shop? please ellaborate. not really a stupid name is it! it stands for Kevin Allan Gardner. he is a european champion and meatmaster of britain, and a champion sausage maker. what is really funny though, is a Gardner living in Brighton..........Uphill Gardner. faggot.