Guarded

Another day, another site...

Saturday night was spent in the pub just down the road from the site at Lydford.  After three visits in thirty six hours the husband reckoned we'd earned the right to call it our 'local'.  The best thing about this pub, other than their pork and wild mushroom stroganoff, which was amazing, was the fact the Percy and Reg were made very welcome with pats from the proper locals and biscuits from the landlord.  The worst thing was that Percy and Reg, having received this regal treatment (they didn't see their owners getting free scram and cuddles), they decided that the snug was now Schnauzer Land, and any other dog which dared step over the threshold was told, in no uncertain terms, to bugger off. 

Having staked out the snug, the husband and I snaffled our stroganoff rather quickly.  This had nothing to do with the major embarrassment of having two schnauzers with attitude tucked under our table, but more to do with the fact that if we didn't get moving again, we never would.  As we'd finished our starters (scallops and squid), it became apparent that the eight mile mountain climb which we'd done on Saturday was coming home to roost.  The husband was unable to bend his calves, and I had developed a Dowager's Hump having spent the day staring at the floor in case I fell over the edge and into the ravine.

Between us, we looked a right pair as we left, and as we walked past some chap who was waiting for a hip replacement, I heard him mutter something along the lines of, 'are you two taking the p*ss?'

But Sunday dawned with a sunny smile on its face, and after nine hours uninterrupted sleep, the husband and I were feeling more human.  As we packed away, the husband came up with the brilliant idea of 'not packing the awning away completely to make it easier when we put it up again later this morning'.

Well, that sounded a cracking idea, so nothing was deflated, and we simply stuffed the awning into the back of the truck.

An hour down the road, and we were now in Cornwall.  Having got sorted, and the awning erected (husband's plan did nothing to help with beating our PB), the husband suggested that today be a 'rest day'.  This was because he was still wincing every time he bent over and I resembled Quasi Modo.

Basically, our 'rest day' involved cider, pasties (two items ticked off my Cornwall Bingo Card) ten games of rummy and a rather large Bakewell Tart which I am sure I will come to regret.

Later today, we are off to visit Perranporth.  This is where Poldark is filmed and it will be interesting to see it in the flesh.

I'm talking about the beach ladies, and not the rampant Captain....


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