Right. Sorry. I've been crazy busy lately. Here's what's been going on:
Spent the weekend with the Pirate. (I know you're all shocked.) Had a delightful time, as always: picked up his new car on Saturday, spent the afternoon Christmas shopping in Bath, got luch at Pizza Express (which is a lot better than it sounds; my pizza had caramelized onions, goat cheese, and spinach on it -- de-LISH!), and generally wandered around town glancing in shop windows and establishing that we both have impeccable taste in antiques and home furnishings. (I worry about these things. I shouldn't, but I do. At least now I know that we'll never argue about curtains or a dining room table.) The sun was setting in the clear, pale aqua sky (it was 3 pm, so naturally it was nearly dark; sheesh), the wispy clouds were aflame with color, and all was well with the world. We went back to his place where he cooked me dinner and did my laundry while I watched movies with his housemate. (Stop looking at me like that. I did offer to cook, and I certainly didn't ask him to do my laundry for me. He just did it.)
Sunday we slept in (cause, y'know, we were wicked exhausted from all that hard-core shopping and antique browsing and movie watching the day before). Not rowing (update on the back later), I've really missed getting out into the countryside every weekend for some fresh air and exercise. So what I really wanted to do over the weekend was go for a nice long ramble in the countryside.
We got dressed, and he looks at me and says, "It's a beautiful day. Why don't we go for a wander in the countryside?" Reason #467 WILTP:* telepathy.
He lives out in deepest, darkest Wiltshire, so we didn't have far to go to find countryside. Out the front door and across the A-road was all it took. We spend a good 3 hourse out in the crisp sunshine wandering through fields and pastures, dodging cowpats and border collies, bushwacking through the brush and startling pheasants as we went. We went down the valley, up the other side, skirted around the valley along the top of a ridge of hills, passed through a charming village, came back down into the valley, up the side again, and stopped for lunch in a fabulous pub and ate...
wait for it...
...pheasant. Eat yer hearts out. We got home (to his) where I collapsed on the sofa, my legs being tired and my belly pleasantly pheasantly phull. (Did you see what I did there?) The P saw me fading and went and pulled the duvet off his bed and tucked me in. He sat down beside me on the couch and revved up the XBox, and I curled up in his lap like a cat and spent the next 5 hours there, dozing and snuggling. I'm telling you, life does not get better than that.
Except until it does. Take today, for instance. In a couple hours he's going to pull up in front of my building, bung my (ginormous) suitcase in the trunk, and drive me up to his folks' house. We will spend one night there, and his parents will drive us to the airport tomorrow morning. At the airport we (yes, we, as in the both of us, me and the P) will get on a plane for the U S of A where we will spend Christmas with my family. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and one more, just for good measure: !
Now all I have to do is clean the kitchen and the hamster cage in the next 90 minutes before he arrives and type out instructions on the care and feeding of Bluto and my houseplants for my flatmate while I'm gone. And then I'M GONE. OUTTA HERE. VAMOS!
(I'll be posting from the States, though, so you don't have to miss me. I wouldn't want to deprive you of the joy my blog brings. I know it's the only thing some of you live for.)
See you on the other side of the Pond!
*WILTP: "Why I Love The Pirate" (Sounds like the call sign for a radio station. "You're listening to WILTP radio: all sea chanties, all the time!)