After a bit of a slow start (too much thinking time, stop it brain) we got going and headed out and about for a walk at Winsley Hall in Shropshire. It’s a private house which opens its grounds each year at snowdrop time. So had a bit of a sedate stroll and, what’s more, the entry fee was in aid of the Lingen Davies Cancer Appeal, so that may well benefit me too. Talk about charity begins at home. I’ll not be getting any prizes for selflessness that’s for sure. Anyway, the walk was very pretty, restful and, unsurprisingly, snowdroppy.
After that we drove around the countryside for a bit, over the Stiperstones, and had a good old-fashioned Sunday lunch in a good old-fashioned pub (The Crown at Wentnor), which also included a pint. All of which has induced a lovely feeling of mellowness. I suspect the booze is mostly responsible, now if I could just get a lager drip set up I’d be fine. Gratutitous Shropshire scenery shots:
I'd like to tell you that the fact that I could not get the two countryside photos to sit in a straight line on the page did not bother me one bit, for I am a free-spirit who laughs in the face of conventional formatting rules. However, the truth is that I will need extensive counselling to deal with the trauma.
In other news:
Cyril’s house arrest has seen him so bored that he too has taken up middle-aged pursuits (even though he’s only two) and is helping with the jigsaw in his own Cyrily way. There may be tears before bedtime. Maybe I could get him on to the sherry instead.
P.S. On a medical note
I know I've confused a couple of people (well, the thick ones) with my clumsy explanations of what is wrong me. For anyone interested here is a clearer version of what secondary breast cancer actually is from the MacMillan website.