It was all very “seasons of mist and mellow fruitfulness” last Sunday in Itchy Ankle. A beautiful day.
The Cackler, of course, had sprung out of bed and put the coffee on shortly after sparrow fart, and so by the time the Crone was up, frocked and ready for action, the Cackler was raring to go and revving on all cylinders. But what to do without wheels? The Cackler suggested an autumnal walk and so, wearily, the Crone pulled on her Crocs, grabbed her camera and hit the byways by the Bay. Actually, it wasn’t so bad.
Anyhow, after a couple of hours the rosy glow of the rustic scene had begun to wear thin and the parched pair couldn’t help noticing they were in the vicinity of a local hostelry, the Snug Harbor Inn. What better way to end their nature ramble?–except they were there so early the bar hadn’t yet opened its doors. The landlord was there, enjoying a cigarette and a scratch before the business of the day. He took pity on outdoorsy types who now longed to be indoorsy. “Go get a paper and by the time you’re back I’ll let you in” he said. Ten minutes later the sisters were installed at the bar, enjoying Pinot Grigio, chicken wings, onion rings and crab dip. It was very heaven. When the Chesapeake Boys arrived to take up their customary seats for the football game, they were surprised to find the Crone and the Cackler firmly ensconced. It is not often anyone beats them to the bar.