An evening in the pub takes on a whole new purpose when you're historic boating in December - it's not for socialising, nor for getting drunk, but for for spanning the hours between dusk and bedtime with heat and light, and, if you're lucky, a comfy chair. The Greyhound thus established as my temporary living room, it seemed perfectly appropriate to to get out my crochet. This had the added advantage for me, if not for the landlord, of giving me something to do with my hands and thus drink less over the course of the evening than if I had just been chatting. I got two more squares finished in the Greyhound on Friday night, and a further two in the Barlow on the Saturday. We did also eat in both establishments. The Greyhound is usually good, but I can't recommend the gammon steak with melted brie and sweet chilli sauce - it was about as good as, in retrospect, it sounds, and left me feeling decidedly delicate the next day (and no, it wasn't the beer). The Cumberland pie in the Barlow, on the other hand, was divine. I had it on Saturday night, and Jim then had one for Sunday dinner, while I had the equally good roast beef, to set us up for our respective journeys home.
I have now completed fifty eight of the requisite seventy two squares, and soon will have to address the thorny question of how they are to be joined together.
I wish that I knew then what I know now.
5 days ago