I don’t really do the quiet, rural lifestyle. After a few days of fields, fields and more fields I go a little stir crazy and need to escape to the nearest town even if it is only Hinckley. This morning I stood at the bus stop which is in fact just a gateway on a country lane and this is the sight that greeted me
Rubbish photo I know but my phone takes lousy pictures. It is in fact 3 pheasants and 2 rabbits hanging in a tree. All dead (I presume) and I’m guessing left there while the ‘shooters’ go off to kill a few more. Or maybe they hang them up so that other bunnies and birds see them and go ‘Oh Shit!! We’d better leave this field or we’ll end up like that’.
I made the most of my 2 hours in civilisation by doing a sweep of the 9 charity shops with the excuse that I needed a plain skirt to go with my Barbour wellies for when I walk the hounds ( I don’t do jeans). Mission accomplished I rushed to Costa’s for my fix and ended up sitting next to 2 posh blokes – you know the type, designer shirts and cufflinks, spend their time flashing their damned iphone around the place and talking about buying ‘The Wife’ a little run around to replace her Mercedes, and ‘I’m thinking about an RS something or other that’s only £25k’. Reality check needed at table 3.
I’ve put off collecting my newly re-sprayed but still vile fibreglass bumper til next week as I’m trying to find somewhere to store it. I’m adamant it’s not going back on the van. Maybe one of the sad divorced’s will keep it under their caravan for me until I return in the new year. I did think it might fit in the overcab area but now I’m having 2nd thoughts, and I doubt the Police would like me driving around with it strapped to the cycle rack.