Thursday, September 6, 2007
Disconcertianism
Today was strange. We'd go so far as to say that today was, in fact, disconcerting.
A series of events seemed to be set in motion from the outset of the day that led us to brook little doubt at the idea that some form of destiny, albeit couched in confusion, wonderment, and bafflmentification, was indeed at work.
The first signal we had may seem normal enough to the uninitiated. We got to where we were going, with little or no difficulty, usually slightly before we expected to get there. Yes, every stage of the journey passed in glorious conditions and with a little less time and effort than expected. The sun shone, and the roads were well-maintained and relatively car-free. Thus, 22 miles passed with surprisingly little incident and surprisingly little to complain about.
True, there were occasions when the door-to-door salesman of Doubt started to tap its well-groomed hand on the door; but on each occasion, Lady Fortune was resolutely not at home to uninvited callers. The most notable of these ocasions occuring at that point of the day when you really need a pub to sell you some good shandy. However, in a way that was all too reminiscent of last year's journey and the Great Closed Counties of the North, pub after pub passed us by with firmly locked door or doors. Just as we were starting to despair and concoct clearly unviable revenge schemes upon the whole of the East Midland region, however, we happened upon a man. A wonderous man. A man of great yet subtle talent and marvel. A man who, if you don't mind us saying so, was to all intents and purposes as a god to us at that moment. This man invited us in to his house and made us a cup of tea each. He offered toast. He let us stroke his dog, and told us of his plans to emigrate to Malaysia. Oh yes, such a fine man has rarely before been spotted. This, if nothing else, cemented our sense of wonderment with the day.
Anyway, fully tea'd and rested, we carried on to the next village where indeed there was a pub that provided shandy. Onwards through many an amazing house we passed, taking the high road rather than the low road as we hope you will see from the pictures.
And then we arrived in Grantham. We have to admit, our hotel is more disappointing and over-priced than disconcerting, but this was more than made up for by a pub playing, of all things, MacArthur Park and a fellow punter who walked by and made positive gestures at us on hearing this. There was also good pizza.
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