Marked Squirrel

Once again a good weekend was had by all. Tom and Faye came to visit on Friday night and despite Chris' sleepiness we had a good ol' time with everybody. They left us for bigger and more Norfolk things on Saturday morning and Chris and I had a lazy rainy day. Sunday was work day and we helped Dave by letting him record our accents saying something like "I say what is the number for the leisure centre in Derby? Something clerk something something route something schedule. Something and all I've had to eat is a tomato and herb omelet with margarine and not butter." Which is only interesting if you have an American and a British person speaking, it’s the ol' you say tomato and calling of things off.

Sunday we also went to the Beech's Hotel for a lovely dinner out (thanks to the kindly book of vouchers T & F left us.) It was very nice (Chris ate everything on his plate! - except for the garnish that he called grass - but still very good for Chris!) After a quick walk (after all my stumbling and inability to walk in heels) bare foot through the Plantation Gardens we went home.

Really the reason for the post though is this - I'm back in Hay Market sitting outside selling (more like not) my papers when I hear a ruckus. I look up and here are people squealing and jumping, and what is causing such a din? Why my other North American immigrant friend - Mr. Gray Squirrel. It was great, he deiced to freak people out by running down the street under their feet and then into Primark; which was the best when the automatic doors opened for him. I heard some screams and then saw the frantic fuzzy tail come dashing back out and into the distance the noble squirrel rode off to greener pastures - or the tree outside Debenhams.