...Don't ask me, I haven't got a clue. If you want to guess what this chick is doing, go ahead. I'll go into the store and ask. We'll see who had it right.
The weather wasn't great yesterday so we decided to do a pub crawl around Bideford. We didn't actually stop at every one (there are many, trust me). We just wanted to find a nice little pub for an ale and cider. We looked into a few, but they seemed a bit scary. The Parrot and the Patch, for instance, (pirate and parrot on sign), was very dark but we could hear the lilt of yobbo laughter, the strains of heavy metal and the click of snooker balls inside, so we passed. Finally we settled on a lovely little corner pub. We were the only occupants beside the bartender, which was fine by me. Cricket was on the tv, and Don attempted to instruct me on the rules of the game, but seeing that my eyes were glazing over from time to time, he gave up.
After our pub crawl, we put on the telly and watched a cracking WWII series called "Secrets of WWII." I swear, I was glued to the set. Then there was a show on the Norman Conquest, then Britain's Got Talent, then Corrie Street, then Britain's Got Talent--The Results Show, then it was time for bed. Good thing, too; I was exhausted.
This morning we were on the golf course by 6:30 a.m. Here's a picture of what the world looks like while all of you are snoozin':
I'm not sure about the lady in the window but I'm pretty sure mother would like one!
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