Plans

Plans change.

The original idea was that we would all invade some rural restaurant, but in practice this was proving to be difficult to set up. A much easier solution is to pass round the menu from the local Chinese Take-away and go and fetch something.

So it was that the Gorse Fox found himself with his gorgeous niece cruising across the minor roads of Herefordshire to find the restaurant from which we had ordered. At first he thought his Sat Nav was being obtuse in selecting such a route – but checking the map, it is clear that it really was a bit of a devil to get to.

The little Chinese lady greeted us with a huge smile and two huge boxes of food. GF smiled, said thanks and asked how he would get them onto the back of his bike. A look of panic spread across her face before she realised he was joking.

Having parted with a significant pile of coins of the realm we left the aforementioned restaurant and headed back to the collective bosom of the family and settled down in the huge dining room to enjoy dinner and finish off with the cake that had been prepared for the occasion.

A fine evening, but it was a shame that Cousteau-cub couldn’t have been with us – even on Skype. Talking of Cousteau-cub, we were sad to hear that the Coventry Hobbit had to take evasive action whilst on his motor-propelled bike last night. As a result of the evasion and the inevitable pull of gravity (Newton has a lot to answer for) he has broken his clavichord – and that’ll put an end to some obscure late night concerts – what?

Ah, the Silver Vixen just explained it was his clavicle not clavichord – that’s probably good as it would be a shame to damage such an historic instrument (the clavichord, I mean – not the Coventry Hobbit; though come to think of it it is a shame to damage him as he also is an instrument of great historic value)