14th April - You Lookin’ At Me?

Was supposed to come to West Wales today, in celebration of Lee’s turning 40, but we decided to come away a night early and book a B&B in Saundersfoot. Me, driving, at night…this stuff pretty much writes itself…

Still, long story short, we got to the B&B with nobody being technically dead. It was a B&B that ‘welcomed dogs.’

 Humans without dogs? Nnnnotsomuch. Still, they gave us dinner, as long as we chose immediately and didn’t go for anything too complicated. The dining room was full of dogs, at least one of whom was called Pongo.

“Ohhhh,” said Pongo’s owner in the middle of conversation with the owner of another dog, whose name I frankly failed to commit to memory on the grounds of not-giving-a-fuck. “Pongo’ll eat till he’s full…” he meandered, discussing the stupidity of Dalmations.

“I know the feeling,” I muttered to d.

“Ohhh that’s nothing," said the owner of Don’t-give-a-fuck, which was a Labrador. “Don’t-give-a-fuck’ll eat till he’s full, and then keep on going…”

I considered.

“I know that feeling too,” I said. d chuckled.

“Yyyyeah, but the thing is,” she said, “without knowing the context, no bugger’d believe you now.”

“Eh?”

“You don’t…” she kinda shrugged. “You don’t exactly look like you know that feeling any more…”

It was the sweetest thing anyone’s said to me this year…

We ate, we slept, we woke up this morning, we slept some more, we gave this waking up lark another try…then we went down for breakfast.

What is it about a buffet that makes all the normal rules go into heavy camouflage, coughing and muttering and not meeting anyone’s eye…

I’ve recently developed a taste for yoghurt and banana. When I started eating this, I’d normally chop up the banana, then pour the creamy white goodness over it. Buuuuuut y’know how it is – you’re in a hurry, you peel a banana, you’re out of knives…you end up dipping the banana straight in the yoghurt and sucking the white goo off the end of it.

Anyone remember the entry from early December last year, where I was out at a posh dinner, and ended up sniffing the communal dessert before passing it on to anyone who wanted it?

“Erm…” said Don’t-give-a-fuck’s owner at the adjacent table.

I blinked.

“Wha-?”I said, avoiding the t-sound since my mouth was full of yoghurt-dripping banana. I sucked the goo off the end, taking a thin layer of ’nana-flesh with my teeth, tapering the thing even more.

“You do realise you just…erm…sucked yoghurt off a banana…right?”

I looked around the breakfast room. Every pair of eyes was fixed on me…unblinking, as if they were afraid to miss a money-shot.

“Ah…” I said. “Not good?”

d took the banana and yoghurt off me, and prepared something apparently more socially-acceptable. After which there was a porridge course, followed by a toast and eggs course, and then, just to reassert my fuck-youness to other diners, more yoghurt and banana. This was about four breakfasts in one – like I say, there’s something about buffets, especially buffets for which you’ve already paid, that drives you on, to grab evvvvverything you can. We’ve taken fruit from buffets that we’ve taken to hotel rooms and watched until they’ve rotted, simply because they were free.

Pootled from Saundersfoot to Amroth, and had lunch with Lee and Rebecca – bangers and mash, thankyouverymuch.

Of course, today has been Grand National Day. On Grand National Day last year, I had my second tachycardic palaver, and haven’t had an intentional caffeine-shot since. We all gathered in the cottage Lee’d rented for the week to watch horses run, and fall, and occasionally have to be destroyed. The race began, Rebecca went upstairs, broke a door, yelled. Lee ran to see what had happened, and cracked his toe on the stone grate. I don’t know what it is about Amroth and the area – it’s like it’s in the small print: renters must sacrifice a toe on receipt of the keys…

Fortunately, the toe wasn’t broken (as far as we know), and the race went on. As it happened, one of the horses that d got in the work pool…freakin’ WON! By the length of its horsey nose-hair mind you, but it won nonetheless.

Pootled around all afternoon, then went for a never-ending Indian takeaway. Rice, sauce, naan bread, more assorted carbolicious…stuff than can comfortably be conceived. By the end of it, three pairs of eyes were fixed on me as I chowed my way through breads and rices. Three pairs of eyes belonging to people with swollen, filled and aching bellies. I chewed.

“Wha-?” I demanded.

Sigh…

It’s been that kind of day, all in all…