Forgive me readers for I have sinned. It is one month since my last blog. However, I shall make amends with three in quick succession.
A couple of weekends ago a number of us travelled to Winchester to see the family Shire. Several of our happy band stayed in a 1960s hotel apparently designed before the invention of the curve. To call it ‘boxy’ would be like calling the Pacific Ocean ‘slightly damp’. However, the rooms were pleasant enough and there was free entertainment in the form of a wedding reception taking place around us. The ratio of tattoos to bridesmaids was sufficiently high to make the playing of Una Paloma Blanca in the adjoining disco a desperate inevitability.
I briefly enjoyed myself watching slightly squiffy guests fail to deal with an automatic door that didn’t. Each of them entered the magic zone, hesitated in pathetic expectation, and wafted at the HAL 9000 sensor watching darkly over them. I explained repeatedly to ever-deaf ears how the vaguely foreign receptionist was busy rebooting Windows for Doors or whatever to make it work again. The rufty-tufty blokes of course tried to manhandle the puny door open, to no avail. I ventured to a middle-aged couple how I was glad there was no fire, but I don’t think they got my point. They were probably wondering who the hell I was, standing in the middle of a hotel/wedding reception and certainly not dressed for the occasion.
The hotel in all its Tetris ugliness squats right next to Winchester Cathedral. A fine view for some from their hotel window; the glory of the council offices for others, including me. Still, that wasn’t why we were there.
It being the height of summer, we walked in increasingly threatening clouds to Andy and Lisa’s. There we spent an enjoyable afternoon and evening indoors watching Andy and Bob trying to keep dry while tending the barbecue. We all ate far too much, as per. Alcohol was consumed (but not by me: still waiting for the all-clear from the doc). Children ran around and latched onto Chef and Chris for entertainment purposes.
Next morning we breakfasted early at the hotel to avoid the wedding guests, who were scheduled to descend en masse at 9am. We were also just ahead of them when checking out a couple of hours later. The usual wandering with cameras followed, punctuated by the standard pub visit (“the best pub in town” – A. Shire) and a refuelling stop at Pizza Express (where “express” was not the word of the day thanks to the crowds of families).