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It was a very guest-housey guest house - flower patterned carpet, grotty pictures, lots of notices - but the breakfast was as good as any and the proprietor was very much on the ball. The walkers at the next table asked to have their water bottle filled with 'clean fresh tap water’. Quick as a flash he responded with "Isn’t that an oxymoron?", and it was barely 8.15. I hope they were as impressed as I was, and have no idea why they didn’t fill the bottle in their room.
Before leaving, I rang ahead and booked a B&B in Whichford
As with Spanish old cities, I am getting ‘pretty village fatigue syndrome’. There are just so many of them, all with lovely houses, roses round the door, and beautifully maintained gardens. What recession? Craftsman builders are working flat out. Greens and verges are mown. But where do their cleaners live? Or do they all have live-in Philippinos? I stopped for lunch in Adelstrop, as pretty as any, deciding to eat before visiting the post office in case I was tempted to excess, but I needn’t have worried; closed on Tuesdays. I was hoping for a postcard with the poem on. Having learnt it by heart more than 50 years ago, I have spent the whole day not quite remembering it. Must look it up when I get home, which will be VERY SOON!
It’s fish and chip night in the pub tonight which I gather is a big thing, so I’m off to fight for food. I’m hoping they will also have wifi, because yet again I am in a signal-free area. If this appears on Tuesday, they’ve got it…