Last time I put a post up, Mother and Mildred Small had just set off on a world cruise. Well, they’re back! I was just saying to DH that I’d missed them both, when they walked in. I say both, it was actually three of them that walked in. It turns out that Mildred Small had bagged herself a chap on the trip, much to the disgust of Mother Dear. DH commented that Mother looked like she was chewing a rat, but he’s very naughty. She told me in the kitchen whilst I made them all tea, that Mildred’s gentleman had made advances towards her, but when he found that she didn’t ‘Put out’, (Mother’s words not mine) he plumbed for Mildred Small. I really couldn’t imagine Mildred Small ‘Putting out,’ but I didn’t want to pursue it. I also didn’t ask Mother how he found out that she didn’t, or if indeed Mildred Small did, just incase she told me.
Anyway, he actually seemed like a nice man, very chatty and I must say he seemed besotted by the giggling, pink faced Mildred Small.
I couldn’t work out if she had caught the sun or she was blushing, either way she seemed blissfully happy.
They left not long after DH informed Mother that he was taking me away for a week’s holiday in the Peak District. Mother had all on controlling her anger.
“I’ve been away for weeks and as soon as I get back, you’re swanning off,” she said. “And she’s not going to be available to take me shopping!” Mother added, glaring over at Mildred Small.
And with that she stomped out closely followed by Mildred Small and her gentleman friend.
“Well, what do you think of that?” I asked, when I was sure that they were out of ear shot.
“Seems like a nice chap, but for the life of me, I can’t think what he sees in Mildred. It can’t be her money, because she hasn’t got any,” DH laughed.
“I won’t tell you what Mother said he saw in her, it’ll put you off your evening meal.”
Anyway, enough about those two, back to meee!
I’m the one that always books our holidays. As soon as DH gives me the dates, I’m on the internet looking for the perfect little get away. I have to act quickly, before he changes his mind and this little trip was no exception. The moment he gave me the dates I was surfing the net. We’d already talked about visiting the Peak District, a place that neither of us had visited for pleasure.
When we have a break these days we like to rent a cottage, and we have a short tick list of requirements.
1 – It must have a log burner or open fire.
2 – Be within walking distance of shops and restaurants, etc.
3 – A nice fully equipped kitchen.
4 – The T.V has to be bigger than a dinner plate.
5 – What looks like comfortable seating in the lounge.
6 – King size bed, but double will do at a push.
7 – If at all possible, close to some form of water, i.e. sea, river, canal, pond.
8 – Price – this one goes without saying and probably should have been put in pole position.
I typed ‘holiday cottages’ into the search engine and Sykes Cottages came up with a beautiful little place in the Peak District. The price was right, the place looked good, plus the cottage was on the river bank. What could be better?
The Drive down was easy until we got to Chesterfield, where DH didn’t listen to the lady on the sat nav and took a wrong turn.
“I’ll turn her off if you’re not going to listen to what she says!” I said crossly.
The rest of the journey went well with just one more wrong turn. I misunderstood, thinking that the turning we were approaching was the one the sat nav as telling us to take, when in fact it was the next one, so we ended up going round in a big circle. DH never said a word, he knew that I knew it was my fault.
We seemed to be miles away from anywhere and I hadn’t seen a shop for ages. The truth is, we hadn’t seen anything for miles, except field after field after field. Talk about up hill and down dale, I was starting to panic. Then when we turned off the main road onto a single track lane, and the sat nav informed us that we would reach our destination in one mile, my heart sank. We passed a small pub, two cottages and then nothing.
“Where have I brought us DH? I’m so sorry. We’re in the back of beyond, I haven’t seen a single person for miles, and as for that little village we passed a while back, it didn’t even seem to have a store. What are we going to do all week?” I asked, almost weeping.
“Don’t worry, we’ll go out in the car everyday,” DH said, in an attempt to comfort me.
I had visions of spending our well earned week off just driving around in the car, looking at fields, sheep and nothing else, other than miles of dry stone walls!
When we did finally reach the cottage, it was even better than the pictures on the net.It was in a block of six, and just down the track from us was an old silk mill that had been converted in to flats – truly beautiful. The river at the bottom of the garden was packed with trout, water foul and water voles. There was a swing seat on the river bank as well as lawn chairs. Truly idilic, if you go in for that sort of thing. Which I do, for about half an hour, or as long as it takes me to drink a cup of coffee.
I was still panicking when DH said, “Come on, get in the car and we’ll go in to Buxton, I’m sure you’ll feel better after a bit of retail therapy.”
It turned out that Buxton was only six miles from the cottage, and it was packed with wonderful cafes and shops. Panic over, we could get on with our holiday. DH was in his element driving around on the country roads and I enjoyed visiting all of the little villages as well as Chesterfield, Bakewell and Leek. Using ‘Dress of the Day’ as an excuse to buy more clothes, I was having a wonderful time. If there had to be a problem, it was that before the holiday, I’d gained some weight. There was no way that I was going to buy anything a size bigger, so over the week I purchased six dresses, that I have to say were all a little on the tight side. I told myself that it would be an incentive to slim, plus it made me conscious not to overdo it on holiday. We call it a ‘Treat’ and it is if it’s occasional, but if we ‘Treat’ ourselves all of the time, it turns from a treat to self abuse.
Anyway, we’ve been back for about two weeks, and I wore the smallest of my purchases for church on Sunday. It was a perfect fit, I probably wouldn’t remember the cakes etc, but I do remember how good it felt to pull that zipper up with ease.