You were probably starting to think I was only going to blog when there was a London Olympics on and you'd have to wait till 2057 or something. You were PROBABLY WRONG, for here we are, finally getting round to looking at the photos from our break in and around Cheddar back in November.
Weston-super-Mare, where grey beach sludge, which happened to be exactly the same colour as my trainers, ruined my trainers. Bad music blared out and it started to rain. We stood under the pier eating our fish and chips, sheltering from the downpour. It wasn't as romantic as it sounds.
Wells Cathedral. Blah blah misericords blah blah 14th Century clock. Bought my sister and brother-in-law some biblically themed socks in the gift shop, then went into town for a chocolate brownie.
This is Cheddar Man. He dead. That's what happens if you overindulge on cheese. On the plus side, he does have a nice roomy grave.
If I sound a bit miserable, it's because Google Chrome keeps tearing my tabs and forcing me to open hundreds of different windows. Google Chrome is a cruel mistress, as the saying goes. We did go on an amazing walk along Ebbor Gorge, past babbling brooks, o'er golden hilltops and across rocky crags, until we were stopped by a monstrous wicker bear, which Sarah defeated by wrestling to the ground.
We celebrated the bear's defeat by drinking some of this. I'm being modest: all of it.