I discovered this morning that every International Women’s Day, the comedian Richard Herring goes on a one man crusade to answer all the morons on Twitter who loudly tweet “How come men don’t get a day?” He sometimes, quite politely, replies that it’s on November 19. Other times he’s quite scathing, sarcastic or just rude. He’s also very funny.
This year was no different. There really are some incredibly stupid men in this world most of whom appear to be on Twitter. Thank you, Richard, for your efforts to educate the stupid.
Here, in Hewood, the rain returned. It was an incredibly miserable day. In fact, as Mirinda said, this is possibly our wettest British holiday week we’ve ever had. There has only been one day of sunshine and even then we were rained on a number of times just to remind us what it was like most of the time.
Memories of our holiday in the Forest of Dean ten years ago were conjured up. Mind you, it did stop raining for long enough to venture out and see the glories that are not in places like Cinderford.
In saying all the above, the weather has actually been more help than hindrance this week. Given the whole idea behind the week was in order for Mirinda to write her thesis without any kind of interruption, it seems like the weather wanted to lend a hand. It therefore should not look like I’m being ungrateful. On the contrary. If any weather gods are reading this, this is by way of a thank you.
Even given the crappy weather, we still went out. We had to, really. The small jar of coffee granules was almost empty. The world is not very nice if I don’t have coffee. Mirinda agrees with this and, therefore, insisted we go to the village shop to buy some more.
There was a bit of a Mexican stand off when we arrived outside the shop. Another car arrived in the opposite direction while a granny with two small children turned up outside the shop. We all stared at each other as if trying to determine who was going to do what. This caused a bit of confusion, particularly with the granny. Eventually she was the first to move and all was well and no need for six shooters.
Happily resupplied with coffee, we then headed back to the Craft Centre for a Peroni and afternoon tea. Today we were the only patrons.
The service and goodies were as excellent as before and we thoroughly enjoyed our writing break. Mirinda even went to the rock shop and unknowingly bought me a Kalahari Picture Stone.
According to Inner Crystals, a “Kalahari Picture Stone is a form of picture Jasper. Its cream, tan and brown layering reflects the energies and landscapes of the Kalahari desert, and it is useful for grounding and connecting with the energies of the Earth and the elements of earth and air.” While I left any belief in mumbo jumbo well behind me during my growing years, I can say that rubbing it does increase calm and it is a lovely thing to look at.
Before heading back to the cottage, we took advantage of a sudden moment of no rain to wander around the back streets of Broadwindsor.
In the mid 1990’s, a series of homes were built along the street we walked. They were meant to reflect the rest of the town but with the civilised advantages of modern living (water, electricity, inside toilet, etc). I reckon they did a very good job. Some even have thatched roofs!
The rain was threatening to return so, having annoyed a couple of terriers who the girls simply ignored, we returned to Max and drove back to Hewood through a strengthening downpour.
Once back at the cottage, Mirinda continued her writings while I did a bit more amalgamating for her.
I made chicken wrapped in bacon for dinner and I was quite pleased with the result even though I wasn’t in my own kitchen and didn’t have all the ingredients. My improvising is improving, clearly.