She juggled a couple of magazines, shook one and began the journey. She licked her finger and flapped the page, licked her finger and flapped the page, licked her finger and flapped the page.... several times. Many several times. Then she tried another magazine. Licked her finger and flapped the page, licked her finger and flapped the page, licked her finger and ah!! There it is. The Holy Grail. 'Dartmoor. Sleeps 6. Available May-August. Ring blah blah...'
'Uh-huh?????'
'You've been to Devon haven't you?'
'Yes mum. Lived there for 3 years.'
'I know Sir Gawain likes holidays in big houses with everyone. I'll give it to him.'
'Yes. (WTF??) More of a Cornwall girl myself.' (But like Thelma, or was it Louise?, I ain't goin' through Devon...)
'Ah Cornwall. I was thinking that would be nice. I've gone off the idea of Norfolk you'll be pleased to know. I'd like to move to Cornwall now.'
Blink blink....
There would be a punchline but I'd be arrested.
Stayed in Norfolk in an old windmill. Punchline?
ReplyDelete'Old' and 'wind' should be inspiring me but I'm still reeling from the words Norfolk and Devon.... It appears I have no sense of humour about either county. Maybe I should start looking for bungalows for her in Cornwall.... I find it hard enough to drive the hour to her house as it is.... add another 5 or 6 hours and my excuses will be self-written. Ha haaaa....
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