We took ourselves out for lunch today.
A nice run up to Bolster Moor and its award winning meat-based products for what is fast becoming our usual fare when we go there – the ploughman’s. A gorgeous mix of lots of sexy cheese and pork pie (with lots of nommy jelly) and all the other things you’d expect. Including a cute little loaf of bread.
It’s bloody lovely.
We don’t go enough, to be honest. But it’s usually heaving at lunch times as the beige invaders tend to gravitate there to eat and witter. But, thanks to the weather being crap, it was nice and quiet and relatively free of constantly chewing old people.
So we ate, and we drank and we chatted.
And we left, having decided that we would not go to the shop for any sort of cake-based treat because it’s Pancake Day and we’d be over-eating on all the things we’ve bought in specially to make the pancakes which are supposed to mark the using up of things you had which you would then give up for lent. As with previous years, I am giving up pancakes for lent. I have not yet failed.
Anyway, we made it five minutes – if that – down the road before we had a discussion which resulted in us turning round and driving back so that we could go to the shop and purchase cakey goodness.
Nine pound’s worth of cakey goodness, to be precise. Well, eight pound something of cake and a can of coke for Carole (who is giving up from Monday, as her catchphrase is soon to be).
I don’t know if we should be proud of that or saddened at how weak-willed we are.
We haven’t eaten the cakey goodness, though. Because of the pancakes situation. Which is entirely the reason we didn’t by them in the first place.
Tomorrow though… well, tomorrow I’ll have given up pancakes for lent so all bets are off.