Scrabble wars

Thanks god (or the Reverend Jeff) for a non diet day. After a 7 mile mini marathon up hill and down dale in the wilds of the South Downs, I was like man in a desert, desperate for water, but in my case it was a pint of London Pride. Securing just such an animal at the Kings Arms in Arundel, after That Nice Lady Decorator had casually asked if I had any plans for lunch, rather late in the afternoon, I found my oasis. After then finding many of the restaurants unable to accommodate us, as their chefs all seem to have the afternoon off, we decided to go to The Black Rabbit, a beautiful building, idyllically set on the River Arun.

We had tried Prezzo, located in the High St beneath Paparedelle, but when their special of the day, mussels and chips, which we both fancied, had run out we decided on setting the pigeons amongst the Rabbit, as The Bay Tree and the Townhouse were closed.

I have found a brewery whose beers I do not care for, and that brewery, Hall and Woodhouse, are the landlords of The Black Rabbit, thus, until the real ale bug that lies deep within me is sated, I find myself reluctant to go there. This is stupid however, because the food, although a little too massed produced for my taste, is decent, and now, under pressure from my good self, they offer a very decent 2008 Bordeaux for just over £20. It is also a wonderful building, tastefully redecorated, the staff are nice and the service good. They are also open all day so a late lunch on a weekday is possible.

Perhaps I should instead say weak day in place of weekday for two reasons; weak after an epic walk in the morning and a more general weakness for beer and food, especially on a day sandwiched (what a terrible verb to use in this context) between two diet days.

views from the Cissbury Ring

So in the evening, I was lying down, resting, and quietly writing today’s prose, whilst she watched Poirot, Frost, Morse and Marple investigate Midsommer Murders, when understandable boredom overtook that Nice Lady Bored Person, and she suggested a game of Scrabble at The Kings Arms. The pub has thoughtfully made available a raft of board games for bored people. This game is often a dangerous source of tension between us, especially if I win, so being mellow and in no mood for an argument I allowed her to win. It helped than she got the Z, the Q and the X and was able to place these on triple letter scores after I had helpfully opened them up for her, and being the proud owner of 6 vowels for much of the game also helped my plan. When I mentioned all this and that I had generously allowed her to sneak a tight victory, that old tension that I had been trying to avoid resurfaced, and I was assaulted on the walk home. She is very competitive, whereas for me it is just a game, to be enjoyed at leisure and the result is of no consequence. I wish she saw it that way. Thus bruised and battered and sad that my magnanimous gesture had not been appreciated, I retired to bed to dream of new Currencies Direct customers.

So the other slice of the sandwich is in prospect today, the second of the 5:2 weekly diet days, a day of misery, starvation and denial, but at least it is forecast to be dry so more marching around Sussex is not such a daunting prospect. I suspect a visit to the Cissbury Ring, pictured today, may be on the cards.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News