So. The grandhumans had plans to head down south for a weekend of visiting, eating and drinking. Did we want to go too?
Did we want to? Did we? What a silly question. There's food and wine on offer. People to play with. Of course we want to go too!
So we were up and dressed and packed, ready to leave at the appointed time, abandoning our nice, cosy bed to its own devices and off we went, heading in the first instance to Warminster, to our friend Polly's house. Polly's human has a lovely, flowery garden. And on a table in the middle of the garden were hippo sized glasses with lots of lovely wine. And inside there were scones and jam and cream, not to mention more wine, and things to play with. We had a *lovely* visit.
Then we went to one of our very favourite pubs to stay the night. There was more wine and more delicious food and a bed that is even more comfortable and snuggly and cosy than ours. We have been trying to convince the Grand humans to move down that way so we can more often indulge in the cosy bed and the delightful food. So far they are proving resistant to this idea. Frannie says if they did that it would be just as likely that the folk at the Swan would randomly move to Derbyshire or Yorkshire. I suppose that might be right. And I suppose if we lived across the road we wouldn't be allowed to use the bed anyway.
On Sunday we went and collected Grandmother Gwen and we all went off into the country to visit our friend Matthew in his lovely pub with its beautiful dining room. He also has wonderful kitchen staff and they make the best Sunday lunches ever. We thought we might have some success persuading the Grand humans to move closer to The Wheatsheaf, even if just for the Sunday roasts. But Frannie says that Matthew is just as likely to disappear as the folk at The Swan. And that anyway, it wouldn't be good for our digestions to eat Sunday lunches like that every week. We suppose she must be right again. But we find it hard to believe!
It rained yesterday. It's a long time since we can remember there being any really proper rain. There were lots and lots of hippo sized mud-puddles :-)
It was a lovely weekend. Food, friends, a cosy bed, wine and mud baths. What more could your average hippo require?