Slippers worn to breakfast shock

That nice lady decorator went to breakfast in the hotel in her slippers. She refused to accept that the guests were looking at her aghast. Her reasoning was that her feet hurt so much due to the ridiculous shoes she was wearing last night at the big bash and that the pain, combined with her hangover, meant she did not care. She had of course consumed more than her own body weight of champagne as is customary when it is free. What am I saying? It doesn’t matter whether it is free or not, she always drinks more champagne than her own body weight as a matter of course. I am so glad she does not have curly hair otherwise the next step is to be at breakfast with her in curlers.

To lunch then with the birthday girl to celebrate the start of her 6th decade. The kilt is safely packed away, as are the in house plasterers silly shoes. In the morning after a walk around Wymondham pictured below in unseasonably sunshine with the wind keeping frost away, I was not sure of the direction to our hotel room but all I had to do was follow the trail of black feathers which had moulted from that nice lady decorators feather boa last night and left a trail across Norfolk. My picture today is rather more artistic than normal and is of Wymondham Abbey.

Wymondham Abbey the full 10 minute tour before the pub opened

We decided on that we should really immerse ourselves in some local culture before lunch, even before the pub so we resolved to meet at reception to take in the abbey. The pub opened at 12 00 am a Sunday and was at least 10 minutes walk to the pub but  I am afraid to admit that the culture fix did not last long enough for us to have to wait 5 minutes outside the pub for it to open

Also over for the party was Andreas, one of my 4 favourite gay Norwegian friends, whose first trip to England this was. I felt it was a necessary part of his  cultural education to introduce him to English beer before setting off for lunch and so after a couple of pints of London Pride at The Feathers in Wymondham, we set off to lunch at Barford.

We have two sets of gay friends, both couples, cigar smoking Ziggy and Morten plus Andreas and Mario, whom old pal Paul North has dubbed Bang and Olafson and Marks and Spencer respectively. Alas only Andreas could make it but he was on fine form.

You may have thought that a really big night out followed . By a big lunch and a taxi back to the hotel at 6pm might have been enough. Enough to (able to say that we had experienced a nice full weekend catching up with loads of mates). I had just settled into a pleasant siesta when that nice lady plasterer was bellowing in my ear to get up as she had made an agreement to meet some of those old mates at The Feathers.

Sensibly, they did not turn up, so what did we do? Clearly after a big breakfast and a big lunch, we needed more food, so several beers preceded a curry

Chris France

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