The Fatdog Broadcasting Corporation is now operating from its temporary home near St Austell on Cornwall’s south coast, with tonight’s broadcast coming courtesy of “Sam’s on the Beach” Polkerris . Yes it’s been feeding time at this converted lifeboat station, now a busy seafood bistro.
We’ve been on the road for some 6 days now with the last 5 nights spent in northern Herefordshire. There was a brief diversion on the way down to have a fine lunch in Derby with MrP and the lovely Di before we set up “camp” in a medieval courthouse (how appropriate you are probably thinking) near Ludlow.
Our first evening was spent in a local pub where we were “introduced” to the local “horsey” set…
They were outside when we sat down at the open door onto the terrace which was, we discovered later, a good thing. Reminiscent of squawking crows, the loud and clipped ex-public school accents jarred in the warm evening air. The males you could not describe as alpha…especially when you took into account their spouses. The, ahem, ladies were a different breed altogether.
Once used to the absolute command of the girls hockey team and breaking up the general thuggery associated with the tuck shop queue, all that was left to these formidable women was keeping a suitably weedy husband in check. The decline of the Empire had been a disaster…centuries of selective breeding gone to waste. No bloody natives left to order around.
Outside was no longer the place to be, so the small grey-green tweed checks in mud stained gilets and torn jodhpurs tramped past us to occupy a table somewhere behind.
The open door had allowed a breath of welcome air into the lounge and we had chosen our seats to take full advantage. A barked command and one of the “Foggies” (thick and wet) shuffled past us to close the door. He smiled apologetically. It failed to close properly. He looked back to his table, sheepish and lost.
“Sorry dear…won’t close, I’ve pulled it to”
“I want it shut, Henry!” demanded an outraged harridan.
I choked on my beer. J looked as if she was going to giggle.
The word “I” seemed to be her favourite and she used it liberally.
Now I really didn’t care whether the door was open or not…our evening’s entertainment had arrived.