When we were kids we used to spend long weekends at my grandparents down in ‘West Country.’ It’s a corner of Britain perched on the coast between Wales and England. There’s mild(er) weather, shell-riddled, windy beaches and an army of retirees.
My grandparents had two dogs, so our daily activity would be walks through the sprawling countryside with impossibly fit elders. As I was moaning, hating life/ the bugs / my legs and begrudging each step, the miraculous happened. Grandma Markham would produce a pack of Rowntree Fruit Pastilles coated in the glistening sugar I needed to get back to the car.
Two Thursdays ago we embarked on the hike of terrors. Beginning at 11,000 ft and finished just above 12,000 ft. You what makes me so angry about lingering COVID? I just wanted needed a pack of glistening Fruit Pastilles. Yes, USA has some sweets packed with the E numbers that would power me up, but I just wanted <Roundtrees> (insert everything and anything and anyone COVID has deprived you of here).
Do you get me?
The hike was 👌 in the end (Silver Dollar Lake trail), i’m just a moaner.
