Sitting on the rocks just above where the river rushed and gurgle-roared through a narrow gap, and into the slowly swirling pool. I was feeling a bit miffed – no phone signal up here on the moors. I needed to ring Hubby so he could drive to the bridge in two hours’ time to pick me up. So that was going to be a tad awkward if I only had to get down this mountainside and then wait till eight tonight. That was the default pickup time in the bar at the Dashing White Partridge. And Alex would be there – he never let me down yet.
That would be real hardship, that one – a couple of hours in a warm bar with oodles of Moscow mules and vodka spritz. Might manage that – twist my arm, hmm?
Best not spend too long doing that; you’d only get maudlin.
You just want to avoid thinking time.
So what are you up here for, hmm?
Come on, Girl, be honest with yourself for once…
Time to dip into a great little story here @