It's just after 7.20am in the morning here in Evershot and thanks to Phil leaving the curtain ajar in our twin room I've been awake for over an hour already, woken by a brilliant shaft of rarely glimpsed English sunshine. If I were the praying sort, I'd be offering up a quick request that the golden orb in the sky should prevail today and as in my daughter's favourite nursery rhyme (Itzy-Bitzy Spider) dry up all the rain so that me, Phil and Itzy can venture out in search of Tom Hardy today.
Is there such a thing as a sun dance I wonder and what does it involve? Germans running around naked depositing towels on sun-loungers by the pool?
The Acorn Inn is an absolute delight. One of those old English country pubs that not only has bags of atmosphere but also serves excellent food, is full of good cheer as well as beer and even has a long thin games room featuring a dart board, a pool table and get this, an ancient traditional skittle alley. It's like ten-pin bowling without the silly shoes and seems like a fiercely enjoyable game to play among friends while you're having a pint of Dawrset's finest ale. Phil, whose antecedents hail from Belgium is not only naturally good at drinking beer but seems like a dab hand at the old game and so he beat me three times in a row at skittles. The other good thing about the game is that it's actually the most active pub game I've ever played, what with having to set up the nine skittles at the end of the alley every time they've been knocked down. So you can eat and drink in all good conscience knowing that you'll only be putting on 8 kilos instead of 10 on an average night at the Acorn.
No sign of Phil stirring enough to make us a cup of cha so it looks like it'll be down to me. More from the (weather) front later.
DADDY T
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