Day Twenty One

Festis 

Although it was Sunday it was such a beautiful day we all went for an extended ramble over to the Porridge Restaurant.

When we retuned Niamh was upstairs still in the living room doing some homework and talking to her friends.

Craig said he was listening to his book. 

Not wanting to contradict him, but I personally think he was fast asleep.

This morning Zita and Susan were still in Newfoundland and visiting the very little towns down the coast from St. John’s. 

Where the fishermen live. 

They saw the lighthouses that keep those fishermen safe.

And Zita had to wash her feet in the excessively cold water. 

Braver than any of us I must say. 

They will be flying to Halifax for a bit of a stop before flying home later today. 

So Craig and Niamh needed to clean the place up before Zita got home.

We having had no responsibility for the creation of the mess we felt no obligation to assist in the clean up.

So we went for another long constitutional in the healthy sunshine.

While we were out Miss Tarryn came over so Niamh could get in more practice time driving before her exam. 

They went to visit Ikea and returned with a big shelf but not even one box of Craig’s favourite cinnamon buns. 

They were sold out. Now that sounds like poor planning I must say. 

While they were gone Craig must have been a whirlwind as the house looked almost tidy when we got home. 

There was a real football game underway in Landsdowne. We stayed well away.

So we just wondered around window shopping until we found a new home made ice cream store.

Well not only was that a pleasant surprise for all of us, the selection was astonishing. 

We only had chocolate or vanilla in His Majesty’s ships. And only on tropical assignment.

But this store was chockablock full of delicious choices. So we took home a small case. 

For long term testing. What a treat. 

Fortunately the extra freezer was almost empty as Mrs. T was not here to replenish it. 

We saw that ol’Boris wisely decided to forgo an attempt to resurrect his lamentable career. 

Cousin Morag was up with him at Cambridge. 

Appears that she knocked him quiet senseless after one of his ill timed comments. 

Lucky for him. 

If her brothers had heard, well things would have gotten very sticky, very quickly. 

But fortunately for him they were all deployed somewhere interesting.

A taxi brought Zita back home. 

And the refrigerator pizzas were nearly ready. Now that is good planning.