‘Twas a very busy day. So busy, it felt like more than one. Without a sleep in between.
First up, we had decided to go and look at a cottage we’d found (and which I’d shown mum and she’d shown Audrey and Mirinda showed Sophie…and so it goes) and thought looked perfect for us. Actually it was pretty good from the details online and we thought it maybe just the solution we were looking for rather than put up with extensions and such like, here.
And so I went to guitar with Mirinda and sat outside in the table area enjoying a coffee and caramel slice. That’s two separate things and not a caramel slice with the addition of coffee granules. While I sat and read (or raced cars on my smart phone) I listened to someone torture the Flintstones theme on a trumpet. Actually, when Mirinda finished she asked me if I’d heard her. It was impossible over the trumpet, I assured her.
Mirinda bought a new guitar today. It’s a silent one. Just the right thing to play on business class flights. It’s quite an odd looking thing. You can even plug it in, add headphones and listen to yourself play while still not bothering anyone else…although the singing may be a bit disturbing.
Directly after her class, we went over to a small place called Rake. It’s just down the road from Liphook, where Dawn and Nick live. It is also where the cottage is. We went to the garden centre which is nearly all the shops in Rake, had a coffee and then on to the cottage.
The road between Liphook and Petersfield dissects Rake. Every room of the cottage was filled with the reverberations of the traffic travelling almost constantly along this road because the cottage is mere inches from the side of it. Honestly, I couldn’t hear half of what the realo said, it was so loud. Sad, really, because we could have seen ourselves living there. Perhaps if we grow profoundly deaf, it may be an option.
Yesterday I’d asked Nicktor if he was going to be in around lunchtime so we could pop in and congratulate him on his new job. And we did (Dawn was out gallivanting around museums in London), having a great old chinwag. Mirinda, while talking on the phone, hadn’t seen Nicktor for ages. They chatted about work while I feigned interest.
Back in Farnham I went shopping while Mirinda went home only to answer the telephone to Uncle Ronnie who was on his way from Devon to Horsham to attend a party. We were on the way so he was dropping in. I needed to hurry home. Which I did.
A goodly while later, Uncle Ronnie and Ivan turned up and we spent a lovely hour or so sitting out the back, eating cake and chatting about various things. It was all very jolly, although sadly short, and they soon took off for the party, two hours late.
I managed to get Mirinda to take our photo just before they left. Here I am with Uncle Ronnie.
And here’s Ivan, successfully managing to get the campervan out of our street after a 15 point turn.
It was a lovely day but a wee bit busy for us home bodies!