My aged companion Crisp was standing at the kitchen table, map spread out before her, pen in hand and was circling something which I assumed would be our day’s activity.
“Battlements,” she announced, “three ks from here and on the bus route. Get your boots on we can take our lunch in our backpacks and be back for the evening happy hour at the pub.”
We arrived at the beginning of the walking trail and set off.
Before long the way got tough, vines were growing over the trail and Crisp was not happy at being held up.
Being a lady of some refinement she wasn’t one to swear and curse, but the vines did get the better of her, and a few choice expletives seemed to send the message the vines had best behave or else.
Huffing and puffing we arrived, and a satisfied Crisp stood in front so…
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