Now that the mother and Step Daddy Dick (SDD) are in the shed down the road, all heavy exercise has been suspended for the time being. I could almost weep with relief...
We headed out to Sidmouth yesterday, home of the pastel cardigan and small dog in matching jacket to owners. You can almost smell the formaldehyde as you coast down the hill into Sidmouth. It's a pretty town, but the shops are purely for those of advanced years with limited vision, hearing and mobility. Actually, thinking about this, between the four of us we have every base covered, with the mother and SDD being slightly hard of hearing, the husband with his varifocals and me with my legs. These seem to have lost the ability to bend overnight, and every time we sat down for some kind of food, it was taking me longer and longer to get them moving in some kind of co-ordinated rhythm.
Food seemed to have been the overwhelming topic yesterday. A full English was the first post of call, followed by visits to two separate bakers searching for the perfect jam doughnut. SDD ate the first one en route to the second baker, but we never got the verdict on that one as it remained untouched. The reason for this? More cider in another pub. Suitably lubricated (everywhere except my knees) we headed off for more walking. This time, along a very wet and stormy coastal path. There was a small hill which I had to climb, which just about finished me off, but as a crab sandwich had been suggested as blackmail/bribery/reward (call it what you will) I positively cantered up it.
Sitting back down in the café where we had eaten breakfast about two hours earlier, we all ordered crab sandwiches, only to hear the devastating news that there was only one left. Well, this was a problem. Eventually, as the mother had offered to pay, we said she could have it, with SDD settling for a prawn sandwich, and the husband and I ordering a cream tea.
The food turned up, and we all waited for the mother to offer us just a nibble. The sandwich looked perfect, and it looked like although there hadn't been enough crab for two sandwiches, this one sandwich surely had benefitted, with the crab oozing out of the soft granary bread. Apparently, she doesn't share which became very obvious as she emptied the plate at a rate of knots.
I must confess though. The husband and I thoroughly enjoyed our cream teas. I did say to him how lovely it was that they gave you far too much cream and jam, so that you wouldn't have to scrimp. Having said that, there wasn't a smear left of either jam or cream in the bowls, which I am blaming on the husband as he finished after me.
Devon, you are turning me into rather a round looking person. I can now see that no number of steep hill climbs will give me enough calorie credit for the pints of cider, cream teas, fish and chips and crab sandwiches. Ah well, the diet will start on Monday.
Of course, this assumes that the husband and I can actually get into the front seats of his car without getting wedged between the steering wheel (him) and the glove compartment (me).
And as for the dogs? Well they will be on strict rations next week too. I've had to let their collars out a notch.
A bit like me and the husband with our belts I suppose...