A lovely weekend, but not long enough.
The Lovely Son had been to Bath, and made a detour to visit us yesterday evening, staying overnight. First, an evening in front of a roaring fire, roasting chestnuts in the embers. The new chestnut roasting thingummy went on fire, somewhat dramatically; once its paint had burned off, it worked fine, but nevertheless it took us by surprise.
This morning we walked round Dunster, the LS not having been before; I had never seen this little village so quiet.
The dogs, thrilled to be with the LS, came too. He threw sticks; Flossie plunged in and out of the river at the Gallox Bridge.
Not everyone joined in, preferring to collect autumn leaves to wear as a nose-ornament. A leaf-strainer moustache helps greatly.
Then we walked on the beach at Blue Anchor, ate bacon and sausage-filled rolls and drank pots of tea at the so dog-friendly Driftwood Cafe, chatting as we looked out over the water to Wales. Sunday lunch, casual.
Home to some odd jobs that take two people, like lifting heavy boxes into the loft, and then off to deposit the LS at the station again, a 25-mile drive skirting the beautiful Quantock Hills, leaving two moping dogs behind. I try not to mope, but it's hard.
A very pleasant break. Tomorrow: The Builders return. There will be mess.