A Big Stick To Hold On To

The weekends here in the countryside just seem to hurtle by with a great flurry of activity. All unique to us, all fun and all within easy driving distance and without the stress inducing addition of traffic and London parking issues. On Saturday handsome husband took our smallest chap and I for late breakfast in our Ottolenghi equivalent high up in an ancient Saxon hill top town. We were served delectable homemade pastries, my favourite being a croissant stuffed full of cinnamon laced apples, which I wickedly dipped in to my rich and creamy hot chocolate, totally sinful I know but life is for living, and I knew we would be doing some walking to inspect the new boutique that has opened here.

On leaving the town we whizzed down the hill at great speed, hair flying in the breeze, towards our next destination and event, an open day at our favoured Organic Farm where we found novel wares on offer and (more) food. We were particularly taken with the Stick Man who makes the most extraordinary and elegant walking sticks which are exquisitely decorated and other enchanting wooden paraphernalia. Handsome husband likes to have a stick to grasp on our lengthy walks and chose one with a handle shaped as a human thumb, I think every gentleman should have a big stick.
The evening was taken up with a trip to our pub, where we ate heartily and were entertained by tales of a days shooting by some insanely macho chaps dressed in what I consider a rather dandy array of breeks (short trousers), waistcoats, check shirts and ties. Can men be macho and dandy at the same time became the topic of conversation with handsome husband, who explained that the correct dress code was imperative at these country pursuit events and there was nothing dandy about it. I will take his word for it as he can be quite persuasive, and as an avid reader of the Shooting Times is all knowing on issues of country attire.
We rose to the sounds of bells ringing out from the church and discussed while eating berries and warmed brioche in bed from my silver tray, what activities we should participate in. We had several options, the Victorian Christmas Fair with ice rink at the school (chilly), drinks at the pub with some friends (afternoon hangover), or a trip to a local antiques fair (liable to purchase something totally unnecessary). Instead of doing any of the above we opted for something far more earthy and handsome husband, the dog and I went on a winter wonderland walk here on a bright, crisp morning ensuring we put his big stick to good use.

For some naughty treats to eat visit Turnbulls for every gourmet whim.