We step out of the car to walk by the river at Hexham in glorious sunshine just as the first of the day's bad news arrives by text. A sudden bereavement for one of the CatCalls families. We walk for a mile or so thinking of the implications and hoping the burglars will keep away ( so far so good). Alice is on form though slinks shiftly past two tiny terriers much to their owner's amusement . Almost back at the car and quite exhausted she suddenly sees a flat circular patch of grass and races round in greyhound mode . We walk into Hexham in search of a bank , lunch and a dustpan and brush and ideally , something for Auntie Laura as we are paying a visit to deliver her Hen Feed Bin , a splendid item purchased some time ago from Pets At Home , the squeezing of which into the new teeny green car ( black) was not without logistical challenge) . Almost a relief that the advertitised Free Scoop was missing , though irritating nontheless. One hopes Laura will write to the company to complain . A free scoop is not to be sneezed at in the current crisis .
D spots a rather ramshackle looking art gallery yard announcing lunch and we sit down on a dishevelled looking sofa . An artistic looking chap in an erstwhile white linen suit appears and asks us charmingly to vacate the sofa ( he clearly owns the place and has designs on it himself , for wine drinking purposes , as no one else appears ) stating that the sofa has been ear marked by another . We agree and move to a cobwebbed garden bench , somewhat the worse for wear but reasonably serviceable .
A young woman appears and we order lunch . Alice is provided with water in a bowl so dirty she stares in horror at everyone , then makes an attempt on the garden bench despite the slatted seats . I am feeling the same , though it is my weak coffee that is offending me . And I am not easily offended by food . And my scone is quite perfect . D had hoped for a larger sandwich . We love the general ambience , the fin de siecle shabbiness and the friends who finally show up to drink wine with the proprietor .
Moving on , the bank is closed , and I find the perfect dustpan .
At Auntie Laura's the dog does twenty laps round the trampoline and the hens crane their necks to watch this odd lanky creature.
Later in the day there is more bad news . A family member has called off her engagement . Oh dear .
