Anyway, I dropped them off and carried on a little ways down the road to Newent proper where I parked up, paid (40p for two hours, forty WHOLE english PENNIES for two HOURS - I want to get that on a placard and then hit the short-sighted parking bods at my own local council firmly over the head with it until they submit to my way of thinking) and then went to get my Goth on in the churchyard:
Lovely lovely gravestones with that over-blown carving that the Victorians loved so much - no grave was complete if you didn't have a random assortment of flowers, scrolls, cherubs and curlicues on your headstone. Some medieval effigies, 6th Century carvings and a tomb that looked like very unquiet slumbers had been taking place (no, you couldn't see anything - I checked).
I considered that the purchase of an accordion might make life a very jolly thing, but I'm also considering this about a tattoo so I shouldn't read too much into it. Except that if my chin starts sprouting hairs at a rate faster than I can pluck, I will be setting up my own travelling freak show: the tattooed, bearded, accordion-playing lady.
Visited the Museum of Tiny Things (not its real name). Happy in my browsing of tiny labels in front of tiny Roman items found nearby, shown off in fluff-dusted cases that, due to a blogger gremlin, will only display on its side. Which is quite annoying but I've already been an hour just getting these to load, so it'll have to do. Try tilting your head to the side...a little more...a little more...too much....there. Lovely isn't he?
Then I went and sat by the lake, listening to happy ducks quacking, happy children shouting (always best heard from a distance when you can't make out what they're actually saying) and thought my own thoughts. Mainly: how many two letter words can I remember? For there was a scrabble evening looming and I didn't want to come last.*
In other news, I am reading Lorna Doone and The Terrible Privacy of Maxwell Sim which is ever so slightly heartbreaking on every page, as well as painting myself a work table as it occurs to me that leaning over the coffee table to type is not conducive to any kind of career development plan. Nor is the cat walking across it and butting my head with hers. Oh, and just enjoying being WARM.So warm in fact that I have risked it, ever such a little bit, and decided not to wear tights, or long socks, for the first time since...umm...I forget. The resulting 2 inch exposure of lily-white ankle has provoked cries of "My eyes! Oh my eyes!" amongst the populace.
If this continues, I shall be forced to reveal a collar bone or two and heaven knows what mayhem may ensue then.
*I didn't. Came second thanks to a well-placed last-minute 'fazed'.