I went for a walk on a winters day.

Couple of days to catch up on here. From sitting in a coffee shop to training it to Bristol and Bath then sitting back in a coffee shop!!!!!! (It’s all go and stop in this timeline It is). First off my ‘Beef Wellington’ of course it was cooked to perfection, of course it tasted of angels wings, or thighs, or breast (whatever Angels have that tastes nice (everything that sets like chicken (except this welly))). Perfectly timed to perfection I suppose, (I do try) and it was scoffed in minutes. (All made with enough leftovers for the next day’s meal too) so it was at. That point I started on the JD and finished the bottle before midnight (it was a small bottle)

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A walk into town the next morning (with NO hangover) and a bacon sandwich was becoming. All sorts, yes it takes all sorts to get by in life. Now I saw (as I was sitting) the biggest beard since the Santa Claus exhibition in Newcastle city centre in 1975. It was a gargantuan affaire, a true behemoth of a beard so obviously it had to be photographed. Unfortunately the dick of an owner declined my advances in that direction but was happy to sit outside a shop busking with his guitar wanting people to notice him. I WILL get a snap and publish him ASAP, anyway, a few shots of caffeine and all was good in the world.

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As the daytime looked into night (I say loomed as I didn’t see the darkness coming) I didn’t feel the need to drink, so this time it was only 3/4 of the bottle (it is honestly the only way to get through the time in the south) so bed early and a text to Emma then sleep! (Did I not mention I was without partner this weekend? How do you think I ate all the meat then?). Skipping Sunday (through religious reasons, I hate religion) we end up on a train to Bristol for an appointment (I’ll leave it to your imagination to guess who and what.(suffice to say I have the body of a goddess now)). I’m finding Bristol a little strange with its ethnic mix of young/old/ black /white/dropouts/intellectuals. It’s a big bag of kittens meowing and scratching but somehow not killing each other.

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Onto Bath, now what can I say about Bath? I’ve found somewhere that is on the same……well no it’s not even on the same planet as Totnes. Now I thought Totnes was a strange area caught in some sort of vortex that drags in the weird and wonderful, but Bath!!!!!! As soon as we got from the station, the madness started. Nutters in the street with Tourette’s, drunk, drugged and just plane simple. Every third person seemed to have a problem. (Or it was a day out for EVERY insane asylum in the world and everyone congregated into Bath. At least the hotel was guarded against the zombified walkers (well it had steps and a door which may have confused them in their crazed minds)

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Nth time and food. The publication Emma looked at recommended a pub (or gastro pub) for its exquisite food (pity it didn’t mention it was the size of a living room and had all the atmosphere of a kids party in Jimmy Savilles house), but we happened upon a fantastic Italian place (Aqua) on our way back to the hotel (the shorter way as we didn’t follow the directions of my phone) this is where we realised that the zombie apocalypse was a night time affaire too. Some plant followed us asking for something or other and I calmly ignored him as I has already seen him through the daylight hours pestering other nutters. As we walked on, his voice got more irritating, so my blood pressure raised and I felt myself wanting to turn and do something I shouldn’t. Fortunately Emma was the voice of reason and she told me to ignore it and walk on!!!! Good advice.

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Tuesday saw a cultural day, I kid you not. Breakfast at ‘Bills’ which was sent back as it was cold (the day would only get better) especially since we weren’t shared for the breakfast food at all. (Even though I had eaten all of mine) into the Roman Baths for a look see. People I would advise the trip. It was absolutely beautiful (I could have been a Roman, if I was born then, and wasn’t from the north and had ancestors in Viking places) they had it grand. The whole of the ruins were fantastically made up with extra bits (paintings) added to give you more of the effect of actually what it was like. The water (which you’re not supposed to touch) was warm… I touched t. Then there is a drinking fountain that you can try of the waters. Now it was warm too, and smelled of eggs. Emma had the foresight not to partake, but me (shove it in my mouth Adamson) had no choice. It didn’t kill me, but it didn’t taste anything like tap water, so my advice is to bathe in it not drink it.

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So baths, (and Abbeys) and pigs and nutters and train stations (with the guy who runs Glastonbury) like I knew who he was. (I thought Emma was going to swoon) a good mix and to top it off in bath, we had a nutter follow us to the station (well he seemed to) and started abusing pigeons or traffic cones or something, I didn’t look back. But into Totnes we arrived, (a sane place now) and to the shops for a bottle or two of alcohol. We had a plan to get smashed play pool and chill out. We got smashed, we played pool and we chilled out. So my plan was seen through to the end, just as this missive has been. Take care and go to Bath people. (But take some mace or a cattle prod )

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