This afternoon we ventured out on a Sunday picnic to the 'countryside'. Unfortunately, it was rather too near the local sewage farm for my liking. By 'we' I mean, me, Mrs Smythe and Bill Wilkins, our chauffeur for the day. Bill's a lovely guy and volunteers as part of his probation. Apparently he was given a Community Service Order as a result of breaking into a zoo, dressed in only his pyjamas one night and trying to cuddle up with the llamas; he has not been deemed a danger to humankind since though, which is a relief.
Mrs Smythe prepared a large plastic box full of squashed sandwiches, two chicken legs and a box of sliced gherkins as her contribution to the feast. As for me, well, I opted for an M&S Quiche Lorraine and a box of Mr Kipling Angel Slices and a six pack of Shandy Bass. Bill Wilkins opted for an (already opened) box of Ritz Crackers, some squeezed Primula Cheese and a tub of Utterly Butterly, which he later consumed with the aid of a dessert spoon.
I won't lie: it was a bloody awful experience. Firstly, we were followed by an ant colony everywhere we went and secondly, the company was dire. Mrs Smythe kept on going on about how painful her corns were and Bill Wilkins started to regale us with a story of how he and his late wife went on a Waterloo Battlefield Tour back in 2002. I was bored to death.
Luckily, we departed early due to the weather and the fact that the ants had called in reinforcements in the guise of a hoard of ladybirds.
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