Claire and I are in Preston. Saturday evening we went to an orchestral concert at Houghton Tower, which was better than the year before last, but still not as good as the year before that. Live outdoor music, dancing, drinking, and fireworks are all fab, but my mum got a little more drunk than she might have intended: as characterised on the journey home, when she couldn’t seem to see the problem with being in the passenger seat of a car as we drove past a policeman… while she was wearing blue flashing lights on her head, swigging from a bottle of some Baileys’ clone, and alternating between shouting at my sister to get her head down in the boot and at pedestrians we passed.
In any case, Sunday was, comparatively, a day of rest. It’s intensely hot up here, and even taking the dogs for a walk is an exhausting experience. We bought some holiday essentials: a high-factor sun lotion to prevent Claire’s skin from completely charring while we’re in Spain, some shorts and dresses and other ‘light’ wear, etc. This afternoon we’ll be exchanging some currency, getting sunhats, and I’ll be stepping into the Oxfam bookshop to try to buy back some of the books my dad gave away to them in my absence (just days before I decided I needed them and came up here only to find them gone). And perhaps I can teach my folks to play Carcassonne this evening; who knows…
Looks like you’re having a fab time down in Aber – it’s a shame to be away during graduation week, but… Spain calls… – I saw the photos from the Animalarium. We fly at 8am tomorrow, so that’s a 4am start for a train to Manchester at some ungodly hour. Our tickets indicate that the five of us will be occupying almost an entire row on the plane, apart from seat D (right in the middle), in which some stranger will be very scared, I imagine. Fun. There’s nothing like playing “try to catch maltesers in your mouth” during turbulance.
Oh; if anybody in Aber is passing The Flat, could you check on Duality – I can’t remotely access her and I suspect that she’s crashed: if you can give her a reboot before this evening, that’d be much appreciated.
[…] Oh yeah; Claire and I won’t be around this weekend: we’re off to Houghton Tower again (again!) for classical music and fireworks from the comfort of a gazebo, which we’ve recently started pronouncing “gay’s bow”. The net result is that Troma Night won’t be at The Cottage – if somebody else wants to host it they can. […]
[…] view of Houghton Tower, where I’ve been to their annual open air classical concert a number of times (including some I didn’t manage to blog about). Ruth geeked out about different kinds […]
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