23rd October '09. When Wednesday fell on Friday

We didn't intend to keep this a secret. Only when we were setting off (Tony, Peter, Richard and I) did it dawn on us that we should've emailed the Wednesday List. And then there's the awful thought that someone truly intrepid might just possibly have shown up on the Wednesday Wednesday.

Destination Crockery Barn, route courtesy of Richard. Both Peter and I had checked the map before coming out, and noticed the lack of choice of roads in the area near to Ashbocking. Richard found the ones that we didn't see. The weather was as perfect today as it had been awful on Wednesday, the only snag being the very low sun, which shone not only into our eyes, but also (of course) into the eyes of any following drivers. An incident free ride brought us out of a tiny lane almost opposite the Crockery Barn. The small café area was humming with business, but a table was easy to find since we were only four. We discovered from the owner that the reason for closing on Sundays (there had been a notice) was lack of demand. Apparently Sunday trade had gone down to about 6 customers. He did say, however, that if we told him in advance and there were enough of us, they would arrange something. We had permutations of scones, jam, butter and cream. Two jam no butter, one butter no jam and mine - cream, jam and an extra scone. No wonder I'm two and a half stone heavier than any of them. We then settled down to discuss politics - well, the question of Question Time and the awful Mr Griffin - then swerved away to the lighter topic of Master Chef. On the way back (idyllic, as the picture shows) there was more chat, and Peter told me the fascinating tale of the Large Blue butterfly on Dartmoor, and how it nearly became extinct despite the best endeavours of ecologists and the like, and how it turned out that all their best efforts had been woefully misjudged, and had actually caused the near-demise.

When I tried to give the flavour of our wide ranging conversations (there were further topics, but time and space prevent any more examples) to Susan, she just said "sounds like Last of the Summer Wine" Perhaps she's right. If so, who is going to apportion the characters? There's a project.

Our Friday project yielded just about sixty very pleasant miles.