Yesterday Stonecot and I went for a nice little walk (all 11 miles of it, yes).
We saw billowing clouds of the kind that would have made Constable gibber and reach for his paintbox, and pretty little bullocks whose beauty was enhanced greatly by the fact that they were the other side of the fence.
I do not have many photographs owing to a miscalculation about the lifespan of various camera batteries, but halfway along our walk, we came to a very pretty village called Chalfont St Giles.
This is the sort of village that features in Midsomer Murders.
It is well-kempt. It has an ancient flint church. It an estate agent's (of course). It has trendy boutiques from which to buy ladylike clothing. It has an art gallery. It has at least four pubs, but we were sort of avoiding pubs owing to having five or six miles to walk to get home. We did however fancy a cup of tea. There was one cafe and it was open. So there we were, ensconced outside the cafe in a stiffish breeze. The waitress brought out our tea (coffee for her) and eventually our cakes. Lemon meringue for Wossname, coffee and walnut for me.
My tea was loose leaf tea (none of what Aldebaranian calls mouse on a string) in this place. Real loose leaf tea with a strainer in a little metal cup thingy to stand it in. I was delighted, even in England you don't get this set up too often. I picked up the strainer and started pouring the tea through it, not into the white china cup I'd been given, but into the stand, was was about the size of an eggcup.
I watched myself do this.
Of course, it very quickly started overflowing, straight through the trendy metal basketwork table and on to my leg.
I can report that the tea was boiling hot.
I said something along the lines of 'Aaagh' and pulled my jogging pants away from my leg hurriedly, till the tea had cooled down. Wossname and I looked at each other and tried to find an explanation for why I'd done this and the only one we could find was 'senior moment' so senior moment it is. I actually OWN a teastrainer with stand like the one in the cafe at home, and use it, so it's not as if I mistook its purpose.
At this moment the playful little breeze sent an eddy underneath the laminated plastic menu on the table, flipping it up and sending the mini milkjug that was sitting on it flying and the milk landed on my leg. All of it.
I looked at Stonecot in speechless misery.
What the what? What? What? What had I done to deserve this? I now looked as though I had had a little accident. The fact that the waitress came out and kindly offered me a napkin (I declined) and Stonecot explained to her that it really wasn't my fault only made me even more embarrassed.
I'm pleased to say that the rest of the walk was delightful and we plan to revisit the very beautiful wood we found later on, but there's no way I'm showing my face in that cafe again.
I don't even take milk in my tea, I drink it commando!
PS I wish to make it clear that commando wasn't my solution to the liquid jogging pants problem.