Outrageous FSI

We were sitting in the pub at lunchtime, enjoying our roasts when I suddenly smelled the unmistakable aroma of fox poo. It sort of wafted by my nose.

It couldn’t be Day-z, I said, because she was on the other side of the table. There were no other dogs around and the smell kept going away and drifting back. I wondered whether someone had some on their shoe.

Then I realised I could smell it strongest when I lifted my left arm up. Then I realised it was on my hand! I had somehow managed to have an FSI during our before lunch walk. I was mortified, and, frankly, quite ill about it. It’s not the best smell in the world (unless you’re a dog). I went straight to the loo and harshly scrubbed and thoroughly disinfected my hand.

A little later in the day, sitting at the dining table typing about having fox poo on my hand, I could smell it again. I then realised it was on Day-z – not a lot but enough to smell every now and then. This must have been how I managed to have fox poo on my hand. Bloody dog.

We weren’t expecting to find ourselves at the pub at lunch time this week because the Cansfield boys were due to play cricket at the Frensham ground (over the road from the pub and five minutes from the cottage). It was all planned, even Mirinda was going to go (until she became too bored and could go back to the cottage, of course), and we were genuinely looking forward to it. Mostly it would mean I’d get to see Nicktor and, maybe, Dawn of course.

However, the weather is not always kind to cricket players. The rain that fell steadily yesterday left the pitch somewhat sodden. There were still puddles at either end of the wicket this morning so, regardless of the lovely morning, play was impossible. The game was cancelled in the morning.

So, Mirinda Skyped Bob and then we went for a lovely long walk through Farnham Heath RSPB (photos on Flickr) before another delicious lunch at the Holly Bush.

“More flowers, no thorns, doesn’t smell of coconut…it’s broom.”

Which reminds me…yesterday when we went for breakfast the woman who, with her partner runs the Holly Bush pub, came up to our table and asked me if I’d reviewed them for Trip Advisor after breakfast last week. Surprised, I said yes. She thanked me for writing such a lovely review. I said I only write as I experience…actually, I didn’t say anything quite so cool. I said thank you and went back to eating breakfast.

When we’d finished and Mirinda went to the bar to pay, the girl behind the bar told her that the two lattes were free as a sort of thanks for the wonderful review. How nice is that? It really is a terrific pub! I’m seriously going to miss it when we go back home.

And, speaking of ‘nice’…eventually I couldn’t take it any more and I put Day-z in the kitchen sink and gave her a bath.