I Know What You Did This Summer

Could be worse. Could be bucketing down.

Day three stuck in the fog and decided to stay and explore around the place on foot. After a visit to the old ruined castle that's at the end of the drive, we tied a long bit of string between each of us and headed out into the fields and along the old drover's road to the next village. Planned a nice bit of lunch over there and quite possibly a few beers and/or wines. Two and a bit miles later and with the whining and moaning of the above pair of spirited adventurers still ringing in our ears we arrived at the door of the local pub. And it was locked. The woman in the nearby shop said it should be open as they'd just had a customer in who said they'd had a nice lunch over there. I'm guessing they must've seen us squelching wet and covered in mud and locked the doors. So we headed back and had some quiche and left over birthday cake instead. And our own beer and/or wine.

Despite the apparent unrelenting horror of a few miles walking in the countryside this duo have now decided to pitch a tent in the back garden (which, to be fair, they did manage to put together with hardly any help) and spend the night in the middle of what looks like the the set up for the opening scene of some teen-scream-flick.

The temptation to scare seven shades of the living bejesus out of them is immense. Payback time.