Surprisingly empty on the road, well we did set off at 6.30am. And here is the world’s coldest Mrs Fogg in Whitby a mere 12090 miles from New Zealand where we were just last year.
Now time for lunch and a steady pootle back home.
Bright and bleary eyed in a designer outfit (some nobody called “save the queen” for the top and “Betty Barkley” for the jeans, looks hot tho) all set for an early coastal trek to do some serious hobbling.
Well I did promise to take Mrs Hulkfoot to the coast for early morning Fush n Chups.
Ah the Hot Tub weekend was brilliant, fun, chatting, walking (only a small distance for Mrs Hulk Foot), hot tub, falling down water and surf n turf.
Oh and we met tree beard whilst out walking.
Superb
And here is Birthday Club Foot enjoying her evening Hot Tub. Apparently she hasn’t felt the needs to shower or bathe since this arrived!
Sorry Caddies the scum line ain’t mine.
Deep behind a conifer, tucked under an overgrown hedge and wedged in the corner of the garden we have an exquisite lily.
Vibrant orange petals framed by deep green shimmering leaves, it’s beautiful.
Shame it’s all in the corner. Might have to consider relocating it to a more focal point. Next year, when I have two fully functional feet that is
So this morning I did my usual exercise regime of hobbling around the first floor bedrooms.
Funny I thought, the carpet is wet in the guest room. I took a closer look. Oh no. Managed to pull the carpet back, then did the same to the landing carpet. Drenched carpet, drenched floor. This is right next to the main bathroom shower area.
Ok, can’t be the shower because we don’t use that one. I managed to pull the shower base cover off (not bad for hulk foot eh?) and oh dear. One very very wet floor with BIG mould. Oh shit.
At that point I confess a few choice words were to be heard. Talk about shit luck at the moment!
Cue Mr Plumber who kindly came out to help. He’s narrowed it down to a corroded washer in the wall where the shower is. So leak fixed, but new feature wall in place.
So, now we are going to have to let it all dry, scrub the mould out and find a plasterer.
So nothing else to deal with thanks. I’ve had enough.
No it’s a H OT Tub!!!
Hooo Yaaah, it literally is a Hippo BathDay, Mrs Fogg time to wash.
What kind of a loving husband would I be if I didn’t get Mrs Fogg a Hand Made card for her BathDay?
And here it is, romantic, loving, caring and DIRECT. No one could say that the art of seduction and understanding of the fairer sex passed me by. Mrs Fogg was so impressed she has even offered to make me a lupin crumble, sounds yummy.
Hippo BathDay Mrs Fogg, here’s hopping your foot gets better soon.
Our first crop of strawberries are ready. I’m impressed. From baby plants kindly supplied by Mr GreenThumb Caddie to actual rosy red strawberries ready for eating – and I managed not to kill the plants!
We’ve yet to taste them and I shall let Mr Fogg have the honours (of course we really SHOULD have champers with them but it may be a stretch in my new near tee total status)
However, I’m inspired. Sitting in the garden surrounded by hoards of chattering starling families, coal tits (so teeny), chaffinches, green finches, Great tits, blue tits, goldfinches, blackbirds, dives and woodpidgeons with glorious sun shining down, it’s bliss.
It gives you the urge to want to weed, sow vegetables ready for a late harvest, go watch bumble bees buzzing furiously into tightly woven rose blossom, rub lavender to release its heady scent and…..
No it doesn’t. It makes me want to be lazy, grab another large mug of tea, plonk on the bench, raise club foot and simply chill, listening and watching.
Oh and read Jack Reacher books. I’m addicted to them. On book number 8 and they’re fab. So shush please starling family, I’m trying to read here.
Like most of the UK we have enjoyed a very pleasant day with oodles of sunshine and warmth. I got the FoggHogg out again, after my 170mile round trip to Darlington yesterday and believe me it’s a pleasure to ride on days like this especially since everyone stops and turns when they hear the iconic sound of the Terminator’s bike (nothing quite like the sound of a FatBoy).
After riding its time to mow the lawns, strim the grass and cut the hedges and then reload the birdseed for our greedy fast food attendees (fat balls, suet and insects, seed , Niger seed and peanuts). As we managed to snap this little canary happily munching at the Fogg’s FlyThru.
Now it’s our turn to eat, BBQ beckons again.