Decisions #writephoto

Sue’s #WritePhoto prompt this week:

Reena stumbled, grabbing hold of Jay’s jacket.

She hated all this walking. Jay had suddenly decided that their life had become stale, full of the same old social gatherings in the evenings and the same tired London venues, followed by mornings spent with serious headaches and hangover cures.

“We really need to get out more. Like out, out, you know.”

“Definitely Jay-by baby! There is this great new place that has just opened up in Knightsbridge. Everyone’s raving about it. Shall we try that?”

Jay looked at her. “I don’t mean dinner, you know. More like the Great Outdoors. We need to hike. Go camping or something. That kind of out.”

Reena recoiled internally, whilst beaming a cheesy smile at him. Camping? Her? Never!

However, Asha had mentioned glamping to her before. That she could manage. All of her creature comforts, and ample Insta moments…

“So, I booked a pitch for us. We’re off tomorrow morning! Make sure you pack your hiking boots and lots of layers hun. It’ll be a laugh!”

Right. She could do this. And Jay would never book them anywhere untoward. It always needed WiFi, and hot tubs, a decent bar and eaterie, and a huge bed.

Back to that stumble.

Reena’s feet were aching. Her Adidas Tubulars weren’t built for actual sports or walking, and they certainly didn’t look Insta-worthy anymore.

“Jay! Seriously, how much fur-” As she stumbled, she looked up and saw a cross. Oh My God! Where had he brought her? To some graveyard? Was she going to be sacrificed?

Jay’s arm went round her instinctively and he pulled her up. “Reena, honestly. It’s only a bit of walking. Do you ever stop moaning?”

“Now, I just need to work out which way we have to go to get back to the campsite.”

Campsite… huh! Reena rolled her eyes as she remembered where they were meant to be sleeping tonight.

He hadn’t been joking. There were no luxury yurts, powerpoints or even WiFi. She had had to help him put up a tent. A tent, for God’s sake! And she was sleeping in an actual sleeping bag too…

“Hang on, what do you mean ‘work out which way’? Are we lost? Jay!”

“Not lost… just a bit… disorientated. Ah, hang on, here’s a sign post.”

He walked up to the cross, which wasn’t actually one, and read the signs.

“There you are, only three miles that way. Come on Reens, we can be back before sunset, and then we can make our dinner. Love a bit of beans on toast! You do know how to use the camp stove, don’t you?”

Er, no. Reena had barely used their cooker in their fancy kitchen, and he thought she would be able to operate a camp stove? This was going to be a long, hungry weekend…

Next time, she was doing the bookings.


Are We There Yet? #bloggersbash2017 #directions #tryingtobehelpful

For those of you venturing to our great Capital London, next Saturday for the ABBA’s… His Geoffleship has some great directions!


So you are coming to this year’s Bash. You’ve dug out your best hat, because Sacha is a stickler for standards, polished your shoes (Ali, ditto) and invested in a Kevlar jacket (to deflect the ferocity of the Hugh Hug – he’s not known as the Swansea Strangler for nothing). You will be arriving in the great souk that is London on a Saturday morning, when all sorts of ne’er do wells and foot-pads are abroad, determined to discombobulate you and deflect you from your Pilgrimage.

So how can I help ease some anxiety? How do you get to

Grange Wellington Hotel

71-72 Vincent Square, London, SW1P 2PA, United Kingdom

Where this door awaits. What is behind it? Who? Why? All will be revealed on Saturday. Well not all. Hugh’s tattoo has been known to melt people’s sinuses. Viewings are strictly by appointment.

this is where you’re going – in there…

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