There are 141 paces to the dishwash sinks. And 297 to the shower block. And they say it takes 21 days to make or break a habit – providing you have the will in the first place of course. But what about those habits we aren’t aware of? Or worse, the ones we are aware of, but are controlled by our subconscious? We’re doing them before we realise and then of course it’s too late. I have one. (I can hear Mrs S thinking “Ha! Only one?” ) Guessed what mine is? Walking out anywhere I suddenly find I’m counting my paces. Yet, rather than stop counting, I knowingly continue. Weird or not? An internal variation I play is to estimate, then count. Mrs S has long suspected I’m gradually becoming autistic. Is this an early sign? Will I eventually morph into Rain Man? Become the dirge of the local bridge club? Take up smoking, just so I can ask complete strangers if they have a light boy? In the vain hope they’ll spill their box of matches . . .
Our forty-two day trip intends to take in as many National Trust properties as possible. As members, it’s sort of free entertainment. Completely drenched is how we enter number one on our hit-list – Petworth House. Courtesy of a dry 8.4K Scoot. The short 231 step walk from where we park up, sufficiently long enough to ensure the heavens are emptied. A face-masked ninety minutes later we’re back in town for lunch. Decide to give the grounds a miss. Head back to base during a dry interlude. Confine ourselves to barracks. Better to sit the afternoon out.
But before we do, we don’t walk the streets for money . . .
Many buildings around the village similarly adorned
We always carry a one burner portable cooking ring with us. Only ever used when yours truly takes charge of some fillet. So until Friday, when we have an appointment to get the leak fixed, Mrs S is going to have to demonstrate not only her cooking skills, but her juggling ones too.