Pressure is on at work, but instead of vegging out at the weekend, I’m determined to make the most of them and get out and about.
On Friday evening, I had a barbecue at my house.
A slightly unusual affair as I couldn’t get the Barbecue to light, and ended up cooking the food under the Grill. Thanks though to Glenn and Dave E for bringing burgers and Tandoori Chicken.
It was an exciting evening, what with old men falling of bicycles, and demonstrations of nunchaku sticks and everything.
Overall, a brill evening, thanks to everyone who came.
On a day walk a couple of months ago, a mate called Dave, recommended a weekend away at a place called Bishops castle.
It’s a beautiful spot in the middle of some great walking country, has a fab camp-site and 10 mins from a town with some good pubs and cafe’s.
Just like I always do, I added it to my mind-map, and decided I go.
A Saturday/Sunday project was opted for and we arrived there about 12 lunchtime.
We went on a walk. Unfortunately, a lot of the gates were locked. While traversing some barbed wire, I ripped my Rohan trousers. My friends instantly offered support, realising how upset I’d be.
I remained upbeat, and pointed out that it would be far worse if I’d ripped my scrotum or something serious like that.
Although the camp-site is lovely, the weather forecast wasn’t looking good.
We opted for the bunk house (at £10 per person per night, offered superb value).
Having finished the walk (and had 2 pints along the way) we returned to our temporary home for a sit down.
Inside there were 2 rooms, each with a single bed and bunks so it could hold 6.
This camp picture of Alex, shows how roomy it was, and it had a laminated floor and kettle.
But walking weekends aren’t just about boots on the ground.
In the evening we head into town. I always take a personal pride in the way that we help struggling businesses to get through the recession (and at the same time get completely tater’d, spend time with friends, and have a great laugh).
A pub Dave had recommended (which wasn’t cursed with “real ale” exclusivity) was The 3 Tons. I absolutely loved that pub.
I’m known locally in Chester as a man of arts, and a high brow foodie.
I decided to try the local culinary offering.
The fish and chips were delicious. Only thing was, the price was based on the size and amount of fish, which seemed a fairly hit and miss affair. Prices ranged from £4 to £6, with seemingly no clue as to the difference.
A visit to 2 more pubs. One in the middle of the high street, catering for a younger audience (but with superb music).
Further down the street, our last pub of the night featured woman doing the monkey dance from Jungle book and the same song being played on a jukebox 5 times.
And so to bed.
It was a comfortable night all told.
I awoke in a bit of a grumpy mood (for which I’d like to apologise) but quickly pulled around.
We decide to head into town for some breakfast, and settled on a superb place called The Poppy house.
Before anyone asks, there was no “Amsterdam” type products on sale, just wholesome food and tea & coffee.
Finished breakfast, and then back to the camp-site. Sadly, Glenn had to leave us, and head back to work, so we bid him farewell (I was going to say something sarcastic about him ripping off old ladies, but the truth is, Glenn is one of the most genuine business men I know).
Worse was to come. When we actually arrived at the walk, I felt a little “out of sorts” and so had to lie down. My friends did the walk, and I found this spot next to Offa’s dyke to lie down.
Three hours later, I meet up with my friends and we all head home. Overall, a brilliant weekend, I’d definitely recommend it to anyone considering a weekend away.