I can’t quite make sense of the fact we woke up this morning in Foston on the Wolds. But we did.
I got my 4kg of frozen Chicken of the Woods into a thermal box. We cleaned the place and changed the sheets back and did all the things one is expected to do at end of tenancy. Bergman was loaded up and we were on the road after just one more walk around the garden. That was a treat, that whole trip up north. I’m thrilled it ended with a licence for Lou. But… the south was calling.
We stopped briefly in the local town, horrid by comparison, and bought a burnt northern latte from a friendly kiosk. And then we absolutely burnt it back down south. “It’s good we aren’t in a hurry,” Lou occasionally mildly observed as Bergie and I ate the miles. I needed to get back by five. We were home at half past two.
The Chicken of the Woods was still solid so now it’s in my freezer and can be parceled out should anyone want some, and if not will very gradually dwindle over a long long period of time as I get better at recipes with it. It’s a complete protein and apparently comes with all sorts of health benefits.
I went into town. The Globe again, but unrelated to recent and forthcoming visits. There’s a festival show coming and I might be involved. Workshops today. Very very elucidating. I’m always happy to geek out about craft and these seem to be good people to geek out alongside. Joy and bombast and as ever I went in with both feet.
I’m tired now though. Got back home about half an hour ago and ate lasagna. I’m writing on the sofa as I don’t want to disturb Lou, she’s been asleep with earplugs in for a few hours now. Normally by this time I’d be in bed these days.
I’m gonna act on that and put myself down for the night. Much to do.
AlBarclay 