Some six weeks ago, the landlord at the Black Dog, Barb's local, ambled off and new people took his place. Barb works there a couple of evenings a week and reported that they were very nice people and had introduced an interesting menu. Did we want to come and try it out?

But of course!

So. I made sure I didn’t have a full English Breakfast on Sunday morning. The Builder did, but he can manage a full cooked breakfast followed by a full cooked lunch, and I can’t. We wandered to Nunton, did one or two things for Gwen, popped up to the churchyard and watered the bronze chrysanthemum plant that Gwen had dropped by Mick’s grave and mooched on, with Gwen, to Wilton, where I wanted to have a gentle potter in the Garden Centre. And then we went, by the scenic route through The Woodfords (Lower, Middle and Upper – we would have been very early for our 1:30 meeting with Barb if we’d gone directly there) to Chilmark and to the Black Dog. We arrived exactly on time! Barb was waiting for us in the bar.

I am very, very glad I didn’t have a full breakfast. I probably shouldn’t have had any breakfast at all. They do offer a small adult serving, but we didn’t discover that until after we had ordered at the bar. My roast beef was lovely. The whole meal was lovely. But it was Enormous! I managed most of it. It roundly defeated Gwen. Barb managed most of hers. The Builder cleared his plate! Then we had dessert !!!!! Although mine was merely ice cream. Very nice ice cream, it must be said. Ice cream is good – it doesn’t take up very much space. It was a very successful lunch.

We took Gwen home and then made our way in a slow and leisurely manner back to Tupton, eschewing all the motorways and going more or less across country. Had a good run back. We were home in time for supper – if supper had been required. As it was, we had a packet of crisps and some biscuits each later in the evening.

The weather had been lovely all weekend. A pity it couldn’t hold for Monday – although Monday started out bright and sunny and cheerful. I did loads of washing and hung it all out. We pootled about and did useful things. We took ourselves off into Town for The Builder’s new glasses and to the post office sorting office to collect a parcel and to the Dunstan Hall garden centre for some over wintering onion sets. And then we made a quick dash home, for the clouds were coming in, dark and heavy, and the wind was picking up – and my washing in Tupton would have been oh-so nearly dry.

We got back just *this* much ahead of the storm!

Right. Expedition #1 had been successfully achieved, except that I had forgotten to take my library books with me. Didn’t stop me coming home with more, though! Expedition #2 now needed to be considered. Off we set. As we were driving up Hagg Hill, I thought to myself that I was beginning to get a bit hungry. An unexpected thought, after the food feastings of the weekend! But it was half past one and I hadn’t had anything to eat since my packet of crisps and biscuits the evening before. Lunch it was then. We called into the Telmere Arms, en route to the supermarket. The pubs are beginning to serve autumn and winter food now. Autumn and winter food is beginning to seem quite an attractive proposition. When we got home, I made a pot of pea and pork soup!

I made a pot of beetroot chutney this morning. It was still raining, in a desultory sort of a way. But I had been pondering the quantity of beetroot that is still growing in that bed and wondering what to do with it. I don’t like pickled beetroot anything like as much as fresh. While I was wondering if you can freeze it, I remembered that in the food hamper that Jeanette and Matthew gave us last Christmas, there had been a jar of beetroot chutney that I had really liked. I gave it a bash. It really is the most beautiful colour!

Then I had to come to work. My first evening duty on the new desk. So far so good – though nobody seems very sure of the closing procedures!! The Builder is on holiday this week. He brought me in. I very much hope that he is coming to pick me up as well!

The Builder and I have been wondering for some time about the lads who run The Swan @ Stoford. We have picked up snippets by keeping our ears open, but had yet to work out the landlord’s name or quite who was who – although the same lads were there most times when we were. This time, though, the landlord was missing. I mentioned to The Builder over breakfast that Stella would have had all this sussed by now, not necessarily by asking obvious questions, but somehow she would have invited them to Tell Her All. Matthew, who had told us his name when we checked in the first time, appeared to collect our breakfast plates. The Builder asked him if he was family. No, he’s not. He’s from Brisbane and Karl (Carl?) the landlord was in Munich at the Oktoberfest and he’s worked with him before and … A fine effort on the part of The Builder. Not quite yet the Stella finesse, but definitely getting there!