So the second leg of our drive to Nottingham started so well when Gail, for once, actually ordered a 'proper' breakfast AND even agreed to divvy up the bacon into something approaching equitable shares (weight for weight at least).
Then we had an early lunch in the agreeable town of Richmond, North Yorkshire, where at the Crossview Tea Room on the market square the waitress recognised how I was on the verge of collapse through starvation and brought me my very own plate of sausage.
Approaching Nottingham, Gail decided we should go for a walk beside the River Trent before calling in to see Human Granny, and as we passed tbrough a field where cattle had recently been grazing, I saw fit to adorn myself with some locally sourced pastoral perfume, as for sure HGY would want to meet me smelling my best...
But Gail saw things differently and I was subjected to an uncalled for dunk in the river. It was small comfort to learn that the Trent is now, unlike when Gail was a child in Nottingham in the sixties, relatively clean and so I was unlikely to catch some nasty pollution related illness. When we returned to the car I was pleased to note though, that the smell of manure still lingered.
Imagine my shock and disappointment when we arrived at Human Granny's care home and I was made to stay all alone in the car for the duration of Gail's visit...
Then we had an early lunch in the agreeable town of Richmond, North Yorkshire, where at the Crossview Tea Room on the market square the waitress recognised how I was on the verge of collapse through starvation and brought me my very own plate of sausage.
Approaching Nottingham, Gail decided we should go for a walk beside the River Trent before calling in to see Human Granny, and as we passed tbrough a field where cattle had recently been grazing, I saw fit to adorn myself with some locally sourced pastoral perfume, as for sure HGY would want to meet me smelling my best...
But Gail saw things differently and I was subjected to an uncalled for dunk in the river. It was small comfort to learn that the Trent is now, unlike when Gail was a child in Nottingham in the sixties, relatively clean and so I was unlikely to catch some nasty pollution related illness. When we returned to the car I was pleased to note though, that the smell of manure still lingered.
Imagine my shock and disappointment when we arrived at Human Granny's care home and I was made to stay all alone in the car for the duration of Gail's visit...
