Wet, wet, wet

When we got to Sheffield we made sure Number Two son had groceries and then I hauled out the map to look for Wigtwizzle. It wasn’t there. It may be very small, it may be like Brigadoon, or it may only appear on maps that weren’t purchased from discount book shops. So we decided on Plan B and zipped up the M1 to Wakefield for an hour at Hampsons Garden Centre.

It was, as usual, over-staffed and manic, with a car park full of plants on trollies and a cafe full of staff impersonating zombies. Despite this the hot beef sandwiches were excellent, and we escaped after buying books, bird feeders, meal worms, pies and cheap tat. No plants – we are suffering from gardening overload. Despite the generally unwelcoming air in the cafe (including notices about not eating your own food and not abusing staff on pain of being reported to the police) it’s always a decent meal. I’d give it 4 stars as the home-made pies, occasional cheery service and reasonable prices (especially breakfast) make up for a lot.

After that it was off to the Peak District, where it started raining as we crossed the boundary into the National Park and continued until we arrived home. Sometimes it was so loud we had to turn the satnav up to hear directions. Yes, I hate it but I used it, as the route from Glossop to the bookshop was not exactly direct.

Waiting for a group of 20 Guides now so will finish with a few photos and continue later.

Just discovered that the Guides cancelled yesterday by email. We got back late and I didn’t check my mail. Am still going to go as I need to feed chickens and stop swearing.

Will be back later with a more positive attitude.


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