Fields and films

36° and 14 kilometres in our legs.  
The only way to make walking possible in the summer is to walk from home to a destination with a purpose.  This one was Polfages for a mighty fine bit of poached salmon and wine without bar codes from the cellar of La Capitainerie.  Jo said, in broad Yorkshire, that the white looked like pee and stuck to Aldi's flamingo rosé.  Nicos rolled a mouth full around in his mouth and said it was good, which it was to be fair and probably a bit lost on me.
Mu's Pfizer dose was still coursing through her veins and she was a grumpy presence to walk beside.  I told her stories but they were met with grunts.  I reminded her that I was thirty years older and had knocked back a sleeping pill with Japanese whiskey the night before and wasn't flagging. 
We free rode through fields of cut wheat and stopped at drying up streams to keep Bernie S going.  Our water ran out quite early on.  The lanes were Sunday lunchtime empty and the Cers gave us a bit of respite from the heat.
However, my patience was being tested and I ended up making a chick lit scenario which finally made Mu laugh.  It was actually quite good, in a trashy kind of way, and I could already imagine it on the shelves of airport book shops.  I tried to work out which actress and actor should play the lead parts and imagined the film rights making me very rich, the money from which I'd obviously give to an ONG for the reforestation of sub-Saharan Africa.