Hilly Woolly Silly

2011-03-01, 10:00 p.m.
Hi-de-hi Campers!

There. That�s about as unlikely a greeting as you are ever likely to get from me as
I
Do
Not
Camp.

Actually, that�s not strictly true, as I would deffo camp if it was just me and L and a starry sky and a bit of tarp and a fish on a stick over a fire, somewhere hot and deserted. I would pee behind a bush in those circumstances, dear readers.

What I wont ever ever EVER do is rows upon rows of dayglo nylon, in a wet field in somewhere crappy, cheek-by-jowl with the sort of chavs I would normally cross the street to avoid with a two mile hike to a toilet block that even Himmler would consider a bit austerely built.

Forget it.

Actually, I think Ive waxed extremely unlyrical on this topic before, so I�ll stop banging on about it and carry on with the news. Most of which isn�t new any more. I�ll carry on with the olds.

Flushed with the success of our walk on the beach, for its relationship restoring properties, we went up to Old Winchester Hill. It is most certainly Old (as hills tend to be) but it isn�t particularly near Winchester and, as far as Im aware, there isn�t a New Winchester Hill, but whatevs, I didn�t name the bloody place.

You do get a jolly nice view of the Hampshire countryside

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and a Saxon(?) Hill Fort, which is a lot easier to see when the sun isn�t right in the wrong place. Sorry. In my pic it just looks like another hill, doesn�t it? Well, its not. Its a hillfort, m�kay?

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When you get up to the top of the hillfort (which we did) you can pretend to be ancients and see for miles to repel invaders. There weren�t any actual invaders, but there were quite a lot of jolly earnest hikers in bobble hats and rustling kagoules. We did our best to repel them, once by publicly snogging and forcing them to give us a wide berth, but they were a bit too much for our tiny army (me and L. And a stick) and we had to eventually let them have their picnic right in the middle of our ramparts. Oo er. You can see a pretty long way tho and I imagine it would have been jolly useful to be able to do that if you were some kind of hill fort dwelling person and didn�t want your sheep and sacks of turnips to be pillaged.

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I tried to explain to L how it might have been a bit easier to go a-sheep stealin and a-turnip pillaging if you�d done it in the manner of Great Birnam Wood to High Dunsinane Hill but he didn�t have a clue what I was banging on about, despite my PERFECT Scottish accent and the fact that I was pretending to be Duncan. I am wasted on that boy.

Anyway. Because he is an ignoramus, he was in charge of photography instead of Shakespeare and took this picture of sun shining through a cloud a bit of Heaven poking out of the gloom.

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As Anna
has already told y�all, its been �teach 11 year olds to knit� week � what? You didn�t know? *tssk* Grab an 11 year old IMMEDIATELY and commence woolly tangle-ation! � I have been engaged in doing exactly that. Mebbe Finn and Treacle could get in on some K1P1 dual action? Heehee.

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Im just lovin� that look of concentration. She finished her scarf in record time (and I hardly had to do ANY of it when she�d gone to bed!) and I think she was kind of proud of it. Personally, I cant really be arsed with knitting. Its just all too slow for me. If I knit all evening, Ive�ummm�done a bit of knitting. If I sew all evening, Ive got something to wear to work next day. I need instant gratification. So bite me.

If you went over to Anna�s to look at knitting pics, then you�ve probably already seen the sister-picture to this one, where me and Anna sit on Anna�s sofa and get our pichurs tooken. Only in this one Im not fiddling with my camera and pretending to know how it works.

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I had a funny story to tell y�all but Ive forgotten it. I hope it comes back to me soon as Ive run out of photos and will have to think of something clever to say�..

Nope. Its gone.
Bugger.

Later
S
x




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