A Quick Pop to Cowdray

Cowdray Ruins

Well, I have had a nice few days – always good when a few positive things happen.

We had a lovely weekend, meeting with different friends. One couple (the ones we went to Brazil with) live near Cowdray, so we met them there. Have you been? It’s one of those little English villages that you drive through and say, “Ooh, that looks interesting, we must come back one day.” And then you never do. We, however, did.

We did a quick Google search first, and found that the ruins are closed for repair. Husband made a few sarcy comments about the owner should be careful about repairing ruins, as their brokenness is sort of the point, but we ignored him. We could in fact, walk very near to the ruins, so had a good look around despite the fences and ‘keep out’ signs. There is a board which gives you some information, so we learned that the ruins were built in 1542, and the original house would have resembled Hampton Court. It was a place where Henry VIII stayed, and the information told us to “imagine Queen Elizabeth I arriving, galloping towards the mansion with her train following behind…” (More sarcy comments about looking for the railway.)

In 1793, the house burned down, while it was being refurbished for Viscount Montague’s wedding. This is the sort of thing you dread when planning a wedding. I seem to remember that some windows were smashed in the church just before our own wedding – which doesn’t really compare.

In the walled garden.

There was a walled garden, which was lovely, as it had tables placed around the garden, and you could order tea. We didn’t want tea, which was lucky, as there didn’t appear to be anyone serving, even though there were other customers sitting having tea. I suggested they might be ghosts of customers past – it was that sort of place.

There was also a small house on stilts. I have no idea why, but have included a photo for your interest.

Cowdray also has a farm shop, and Polo Club. Last time we drove through, we saw people playing polo, which was rather fun. This time they were playing cricket – on a different field, obviously. Rather less fun to watch.

Should you want a venue for your wedding today, and have less to spend than Viscount Montague, you may be interested in Cowdray House, which is also on the estate, and can be hired for functions. I found it online, though we didn’t visit. It all looks lovely, and I whiled away a few minutes, choosing which of the 22 bedrooms I would like to stay in. The website was rather coy about listing prices though.

Apparently, the whole house is for sale, if you have a spare £25 million, as Viscount Cowdray would like to sell it. He wants to hold on to the park and polo fields, so I’m afraid you can only buy the house, which it says in the advert he is selling “so it isn’t a burden on funds for his son and grandson,” which I felt was not a very good marketing strategy as it rather deters one from bothering to get a surveyors report done, doesn’t it?

Thank you for reading. Have a good week.

Love,
Anne x

****
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Anne E. Thompson is an author of several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in bookshops and on Amazon.
Thank you for reading.
anneethompson.com

A Flaming Nuisance

A Flaming Nuisance

Sometimes life doesn’t go to plan, does it? In fact, sometimes, quite major things can go wrong, and part of life is deciding what to do next when disaster strikes. This week has been a little like that.

One disaster was due to the hot weather we’ve been having. My mum, having survived a week in Camber with me, then phoned in bit of a panic, as the trees near her house were on fire. I went down to see if it was safe for her to stay there, and found the whole area filled with smoke and the smell of charred wood. There was a fire engine, and a lot of people, mainly neighbours who had come out to watch. The people who lived right next to the fire had been evacuated, and the other neighbours were finding them chairs and cups of tea, holding their hands and being generally helpful. Sometimes people are very nice.

I decided to bring Mum to my house, mainly so she didn’t have to breathe all the fumes, and also so she could recover from the shock somewhere peaceful. Animals are quite calming, and I have lots of animals. Her own house wasn’t damaged, so after a few hours of being climbed on by cats and bounced by the dog and watching the ducks and chickens, I took her home. Mum is fine, but the trees look very sad.

(When I went to collect her, I needed to drive over a fire hose, and I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to. So I asked a fireman, who said: “Where are you parked sweetheart?” I don’t get called sweetheart by beefy firemen very often. So that made my day!)

My other disaster was a chicken massacre. Usually the fox is too scared to come into my garden because it gets chased by the dog. So my chickens roam freely all day, and I shut them in at night. But when I went up to shut them into the cage, only one hen appeared. I shut her in, and went to investigate. The compost heap and orchard were covered with feathers. Not a good sign. While I was searching, the fox came back, presumably for the hen I’d shut away, and the dog chased it away. But I couldn’t find the other chickens.

Later that evening, the cockerel turned up at the kitchen window, looking a bit lost. I picked him up and put him in the cage. Am guessing he hid when the fox came (not exactly the chicken equivalent of beefy fireman, as he let the girls get eaten).

So now I only have one cockerel, and the hen who escaped. What a shame. The fox has visited a few times since, so I’m guessing it’s raising cubs and has become more daring. I will leave the birds in cages for a few weeks. They are not happy.

On a lighter note, the duckling that the hen hatched is still doing well. I am now trying to teach it that it is a duck, not a chicken. I moved it into the big aviary and caught a duck from the pond to keep it company. The duckling spent a whole evening crying for his ‘mum’, which was rather sad. I have now moved the other ducks inside, so he is getting used to being with ducks. I’m hoping that in a couple of weeks, when all the birds are free again, he will want to go on the pond, and not into the chicken coop.

When the egg first hatched, it was hard to see if the hen had hatched a chick or a duckling!

As the duckling grew, mother hen was rather perturbed every time it jumped into the drinking water.

 

 

Feathers start to appear after a couple of weeks.

At 4 weeks, fully grown, though not yet fully feathered. Moved into a cage with ducks from the pond, so he can learn how to be a duck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hope you have a week that is free of disasters. Thank you for reading.

Take care,
Love,
Anne x

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Do you want an interesting book to read on holiday? An easy read novel, full of excitement and interesting ideas? Why not buy a copy of CLARA? Available in bookshops and Amazon, as both paperback and ebook, this book will both entertain and challenge you. You can order copies directly from me, for the reduced price of £7.95*, simply use the contact form below.

 

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Payment by bank transfer or cheque will be requested on receipt of the book.

Travel with Clara from an English town to the slums of India, and see how someone bad can achieve something amazing.
An exciting, fast paced novel.
CLARA – A Good Psychopath?
by Anne E. Thompson.
Buy a copy today, and prepare to become engrossed in a whole new world.

Mini Review of Camber Sands

Well, our holiday at Camber has finished, and we both survived. We had a nice routine, with me working (inefficiently) for the morning, then meeting for lunch. We then ‘did our own thing’ until 4pm, when we went to the beach, followed by tea, then Netflix until bedtime. All very civilised and relaxing. It was also nice to spend time with just Mum, to properly listen to her stories about the past, without having to rush off to do things. Camber Sands, out of season, is ideal for this.

We stayed in a holiday cottage on the White Sands estate, and this was ideal. Mum called it ‘Toy Town’ and with all the little houses, I know what she meant. We walked around, guessing which ones were rental homes and which ones were lived in. I’m assuming that most people don’t, by choice, have ornaments of sea-gulls and anchors in their normal homes. Many of the gardens were full of lavender, and it’s all very pretty.

There are a few places to eat in Camber, even out of season, though some were closed until July or working limited hours. So the fish and chip shop was only open in the evenings (though you can get very good fish and chips from the friendly man with a ponytail, in the cafe on the grass carpark, near beach C). We ate a couple of times in Dunes Bar (5* hygiene rating and friendly staff) and sometimes drove to The King’s Head in Playden (which has the above plus the best food, I think).

I prefer Camber in the winter, when you can walk the dog along the whole beach, but it’s cold. Even in the summer, it always seems to be windy.

We had very good weather. It was always windy, but it was dry, and warm in the sand dunes. On Friday, the main road was quite busy, which gave a taste of how it must be in high season, when I imagine it would be fairly difficult to cross the road if you’re a slow walker (which one of us was).

The beach is flat and sandy – so great for kids wanting to build sandcastles or old ladies who like to paddle, or dogs who want to dig and bounce through waves. The east end of the beach is where all the water sports enthusiasts are allowed, and when the wind is right, you can see lots of coloured kites with mad people attached. (I did offer to pay for Mum to rent one, but she made lots of excuses.) The carparks all seem to have toilets, and there are plenty of bins to put your bags of dog mess (so no excuses for cleaning up after them people!)

However, the tide comes in unevenly, so you have to watch out so you don’t get cut-off. This can be dangerous for non-swimmers. And there are rip tides, which are dangerous for swimmers. They now have life-guards on duty (which I’ve never seen before) and signs telling you the tide times and where is safe to swim. One day there were jellyfish in the water, but I have come to Camber many times, and never seen them before, so perhaps we were just unlucky. Another hazard is towards the Rye end of the beach, where at low tide some of the sand is oily. It is the wet sand, and your feet sink into the sand and then come out black, which is very unpleasant, and bit of a worry with the dog, who was most unhelpful about being taken into the sea to be washed. I still maintain that wellies are the best footwear for a beach (see last week’s post).

The marshes around Camber are beautiful, and there are paths and cycle routes through them. You can hire bikes in Rye and Camber (ebike-hire.com 07960 587482). While we were there, the fields were full of poppies and chubby lambs and water birds.

So that’s it, a quick review of Camber Sands. If you would like to also borrow my mother to take for company, I’m sure that can be arranged.

Have a good week.
Take care,

Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading. You can follow my blog at:
anneethompson.com
Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in book shops and Amazon. Why not buy one today?
(I think the best one is CLARA – A Good Psychopath? which shows how someone very bad, can achieve something amazing…

Camber continues…

Well, you’ll be pleased to know I have managed to not murder my mother, so far… In fact, we’re having a rather nice time, here at Camber Sands. The little cottage we’ve rented is turning out very well, everything works, and there are a few novelties. I am enjoying the Nespresso machine, Mum was unexpectedly taken by the spy-hole in the front door. I haven’t liked to ask how often she stands there spying on the neighbours. Even the dog is happy, as she simply adores the beach.

The beach is great, though we did have a near-disaster yesterday, as we hadn’t realised the tide was coming in, and we were walking along a sandbank, completely oblivious to the water rushing in between us and the beach. It wasn’t dangerous, just annoying, as I had to get my jeans wet wading across to the beach. Not helped by a particularly bouncy dog who thought it was great that I was finally joining her in the sea.

Today we had another disaster – not our fault – as we decided to go to Rye for the day. I hate driving, and find it particularly stressful driving through towns I don’t know, trying to find a carpark. And I know Rye has lots of one-way streets. There is a map in the cottage, but it doesn’t show the one-way streets AND it has South at the top. So it’s all backwards. (I find this completely irritating – who would draw a map with South at the top???)

Anyway, when Mum suggested that we could catch a bus into town, it seemed like an excellent plan. I took the dog for an early walk (ignoring her when she pulled desperately towards the beach path, as I didn’t want her to get wet, so she had to settle for the fields) and checked the timetable at the bus-stop. There are buses every hour, so we planned to catch the 11:13 bus, wander around Rye, have lunch, and catch a bus home early afternoon. Perfect – or so we thought.

We allowed plenty of time to walk to the bus-stop, so were there about 11:05. We stood at the shelter, and I worried they might not take notes or cards and I didn’t have enough change. At 11:13, there was no bus, but Mum, who catches a lot of buses, assured me they are often a few minutes late.

At 11:30, we made friends with the other lady waiting at the stop, who said the buses are often very late, and sometimes don’t arrive until about 50 minutes after their due time. She had been there before us, and had a very cute little dog, called Benjie. She said it was a new timetable, it began at the beginning of June, and previously there had been buses every 30 minutes rather than every hour. Mum then chatted to her (about the weather/her dog/what it’s like living in Camber/her political views/religion/her sex life, etc, you know what elderly ladies are like) and I moved slightly away and hid behind my sunglasses.

At 11:50 the bus arrived. Happy days. Chatty lady got on first, and was told: “You can’t bring the dog on, there are already 3 other dogs on, I’m not taking any more.”

Chatty lady said she’d been waiting nearly an hour, but the bus driver was adamant, he wasn’t taking any more dogs. Chatty lady got off the bus.

Mum and I stepped onto the bus. The driver said, “I can only take one of you.”

We stared at him. (I nearly asked which one – but decided it wouldn’t be polite.) Mum asked why. Driver said the bus was too full already (it was) and passengers weren’t allowed to stand beyond the blue line (a line – blue- painted on the floor). There were people standing almost up to it, though they could have all squashed back a bit. But Mum said she needed a seat, and I could see that there weren’t any, and I really couldn’t face the conversation with random strangers about which one was going to give up their seat for her, so we too got off. Bus then sped away, and we walked back to cottage. The dog was pleased to see us.

We ate in a pub in Camber instead, and had a nice time, and will take the dog on the beach later. But it was a bit of a shame, especially as until recently there had been more buses, so we’d have got a seat. It must be infuriating for chatty lady, who was local, to have the bus to Rye full of holiday-makers so she doesn’t fit on it. Perhaps the bus company will reconsider the cuts for the summer months. I hope so.

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

 

Travel with Clara from an English town to the slums of India, and see how someone bad can achieve something amazing.
An exciting, fast paced novel.
CLARA – A Good Psychopath?
by Anne E. Thompson.
Buy a copy today, and prepare to become engrossed in a whole new world.

Thank you for reading. You can follow my blog at:
anneethompson.com
Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in book shops and Amazon. Why not buy one today?
(I think the best one is CLARA – A Good Psychopath? which shows how someone very bad, can achieve something amazing…

Camber Sands with Mother

Mum said she wanted a week by the sea, and I can write anywhere, so I told her that if she didn’t mind being ignored until midday each day, I would take her to Camber Sands. Am hoping we don’t murder each other.

Other people’s reactions to the news were telling. My children all declined to join us, citing work/parties/washing their hair as plausible excuses. My siblings all advised I take lots of alcohol. My friends all said, “A whole week? Gosh!” I expect they were jealous.

We set off on Saturday. The dog filled the whole boot, so I told Mum we could only take what would fit behind her seat. I packed the dog, my stuff (one tiny bag) and the food (quite a lot of bags) and went to collect Mum. Her stuff was already packed, and in a long line down the front path and round the corner and half way to the next town. But we managed to fit it all in. And I quite like eating bruised apples and crushed crisps, so it’s fine.

Arrived at the cottage in one piece, despite my dodgy driving and fairly useless brain and completely useless SatNav. We have rented a two-bedroomed house from ‘Beside the Sea’ cottages. It’s on a little estate of pastel coloured houses, and is 3 minutes walk from the beach. The house is pretty small (Mum suggested we could empty a cupboard for big smelly dog to live in) but it’s very pretty. It also – most importantly – has a shower with decent water pressure, an outside hose (for rinsing big smelly dog) and two washrooms. There are also a few luxuries, like a Nespresso machine (am on my 4th coffee this morning and the world is buzzing) and Netflix. The owners have included helpful things like capsules for the dishwasher and hand soap for all the sinks, and we arrived to cake and biscuits and a bottle of wine. All very nice.

After a quick cup of tea, we walked to the beach. I don’t know if you know Camber Sands, but in the summer months, the only part of the beach where dogs are allowed is accessed via sand dunes. Dragged Mum over one the height of Snowdon but we made it to the beach. Tried to take selfies – realised neither of us were very good at this, and we now have several photos of our feet, and the sky, and the dunes. Both dog and mother went completely nuts and insisted on paddling. Mother told me she thought I was completely ridiculous to be wearing wellies on the beach in June. But I have lived with Husband for too long. And I hate sandy feet.

Sunday: I took the dog for an early run. The tide in Camber goes out for miles and miles, so we had a good walk. The only other people out there were fishermen digging for lugworms. I worried a little that the tide might come in and we’d get cut-off, but there were no warning signs (only about riptides for swimmers) so we walked 27 miles out to the sea and back. Kia chased seagulls and brought me dead crabs and stones to throw. (I didn’t throw the dead crabs, in case you’re wondering.)

Met Mum and we walked to the little wood and brick church on the main road, next to Pontins. People seemed friendly, and there was coffee and cake afterwards, which Mum stayed for as she likes chatting to strangers, and I didn’t, as I don’t.

We had lunch at The King’s Head in Playden. I’ve been there before, and it never disappoints. It’s pretty and cosy and the food is lovely. Spent the rest of the day walking and reading and watching Netflix.

This morning I walked along a footpath towards Rye (I couldn’t face even more sand and wet dog, I figured one trip to the beach a day would be fine.) The path went past fields of chubby lambs and great pools of deep water with fishermen next to them, and was lined with poppies. Camber seems to have lots of poppies in June. Came back to write this, and will now do some work. So far the week is going well, and we are both still alive. I’ll give you an update next week.

Thank you for reading. Have a good week.

Take care.
Love, Anne x

Anne E. Thompson is an author of several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in bookshops and on Amazon.
Thank you for reading.
anneethompson.com

The latest, and best book (in my opinion). An exciting novel written in the first person, which shows how a psychopath views the world. The story encompasses the world of women trafficked in India, and shows how someone very bad, can be used to achieve something amazing.

A gritty thriller, which shows what it means to be a psychopath, and how it would feel if someone in your family did something awful. (Because every psychopath has a mother.)

This tells all the things I wish I had known when first diagnosed. A helpful book for anyone with a potentially terminal illness. It shows how to find a surgeon, how to cope with other people’s fears, how to not be defined by an illness. It also has a few funny anecdotes – because even when you’re ill, it’s good to laugh.
Available from Amazon (you can get it free if you have a Kindle).

A hilarious romance for when you want to relax.

Hidden Faces by Anne E. Thompson.
An easy read, feel good novel, set in an infant school. An ideal gift, this is a book to make you smile.

An exciting novel, set in the near future. One family shows how they cope with driverless cars, new laws, and schools run by computers.

Costa Book Awards

I recently saw some information about the Costa Book Awards. These are awarded each year, and they are a big deal. There is a financial prize (from £1,000 to £5,000) but more importantly, they attract readers. The winners of the Costa Book Awards can expect mainstream bookshops to put their books where they are likely to be seen by people browsing. And readers are keen to read a book that has won a prize. The awards can turn an unknown author into a household name – at least amongst those who read.

I discovered that books can be submitted to the judges from publishers. Now, as I set up a micro-publishing house, rather than paying a self-publishing company to publish my books, I thought why not enter a book? I know that CLARA – A Good Psychopath? is by far my best book, and is as good as many popular books, so why not have a try? It has been professionally edited and typeset, it was printed by mainstream printers, I paid a photographer for an enticing cover, it is available through wholesalers, it has an ISBN number. If someone randomly picked it off a shelf, they wouldn’t know whether it was self-published or published by one of the major publishing houses. So I wrote to the person sending out the application forms, and she duly sent me one. Or to be precise, she sent one to The Cobweb Press, which has its own email account.

But then everything fell to pieces. There was a clause which read:
iv We regret that self-published books and books solely published online are not eligible. Self-published books are not eligible where the author is the publisher or where a company has been specifically set up to publish that book.

I was pretty sure this disqualified my book. But The Cobweb Press is a legitimate business, and I do employ editors, typesetters, etc on a freelance basis, so I had one last try, and emailed the helpful admin person to check. She informed me that if I published books by other authors, I could submit my book, but not if I only published my own work. I considered quickly publishing via Kindle a book by another author (I know a few) but decided that they would probably check, and it was probably deceptive of me, and I probably shouldn’t. So I didn’t. The Costa Book Awards will not be considering CLARA – A Good Psychopath? as a possible contender. Which is a shame.

I was particularly interested by a clause in the instructions which reads:

We ask that you take careful note of all conditions before submitting your title(s).   If you’re uncertain as to whether or not a title meets the criteria, then please contact me before submitting it. Very occasionally we’ve had situations where the eligibility of a book has appeared ambiguous.
 
When you submit any title, you are confirming that title’s eligibility.  Entries will be further checked by the organisers as the judging process progresses to confirm that they are eligible.  If, at this stage, it’s found that an entry is, in fact, ineligible, it can cause great inconvenience and disappointment so please ensure that all titles you submit are eligible.

Now, this implies that they have had self-published books submitted in the past. And they have considered them for a prize, not realising that they were self-published, but further investigation revealed they were not published traditionally, so they were disqualified.

My question is – why? Why is the book industry so intent on squashing the new author – unless they are linked to a celebrity or film producer, or have an actual human contact? Why do major bookshops and wholesalers and competition organisers refuse to accept that a book which is indistinguishable from a traditionally published book might not be inferior? I have had my books rejected from magazines when I have offered them for review:”Sorry, but we don’t review self-published books”, from some bookshops (though the major ones are beginning to accept them if you jump through enough hoops) and, most importantly, readers. People will ask, “Is it self-published?” and if it is, they walk away. Yet it is incredibly difficult to persuade traditional publishers to take on a new author unless they fit a very tight criteria, unless they are pretty much the same as books they are already selling. Which is rather limiting don’t you think? Do we want the world to be full of books which major companies have decided we should be reading – or do we want to select them on merit?

I understand that some self-published books are not edited, and are badly written. I realise that some do not have trade agreements with wholesalers, so if they were to become well-known they would be difficult for bookshops to source. However, as publishing houses become ever more restricted by falling sales, surely society should be looking in a wider pond for excellent new authors.

CLARA – A Good Psychopath? is not likely to be eligible for entry to major book competitions. Nor will it be reviewed by well-known magazines or newspapers. But it is still a book worth reading. As are many, many self-published books. Please remember, when you next choose a book to order from your library, or to download for your Kindle, or to buy for your holiday, some of the best books are the ones which are not traditionally published. Why not give them a chance?

The latest, and best book (in my opinion). An exciting novel written in the first person, which shows how a psychopath views the world. The story encompasses the world of women trafficked in India, and shows how someone very bad, can be used to achieve something amazing.

Thank you for reading.

Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and one non-fiction book. They are available from book shops and Amazon. She writes a weekly blog at: anneethompson.com

 

The latest, and best book (in my opinion). An exciting novel written in the first person, which shows how a psychopath views the world. The story encompasses the world of women trafficked in India, and shows how someone very bad, can be used to achieve something amazing.

A gritty thriller, which shows what it means to be a psychopath, and how it would feel if someone in your family did something awful. (Because every psychopath has a mother.)

Hidden Faces by Anne E. Thompson.
An easy read, feel good novel, set in an infant school. An ideal gift, this is a book to make you smile.

An exciting novel, set in the near future. One family shows how they cope with driverless cars, new laws, and schools run by computers.

This tells all the things I wish I had known when first diagnosed. A helpful book for anyone with a potentially terminal illness. It shows how to find a surgeon, how to cope with other people’s fears, how to not be defined by an illness. It also has a few funny anecdotes – because even when you’re ill, it’s good to laugh.
Available from Amazon (you can get it free if you have a Kindle).

A hilarious romance for when you want to relax.

When you shouldn’t laugh…

I had one of those “mustn’t laugh” moments at Lunch Club this week – you know, when something happens which is really really funny, but you’re not sure if anyone else will think so, and you might offend someone, so you have to try and keep a completely bland face. I am pretty rubbish at the ‘bland face’ thing, so usually try to leave quickly.

Anyway, people were arriving, ready for their meal, and one of the ladies had brought a card. The trouble with running a club for the elderly is that we often lose members because they die, which is always sad, but is not unexpected when most people are over eighty. This week another member had died, who we hadn’t seen for a few months, and the lady was asking people to sign a card for his widow. You know the sort of thing, a pretty picture of a sunset on the front, and a few words inside about never being forgotten.

The card was being passed around while people sat at the tables, waiting for lunch to be served. Several people asked who it was that had died, and then wrote a little message – “thinking of you,” or “so sad to hear your news,” or “may God be especially near at this time” – little words that showed they cared and the widow wasn’t alone. But then the card was passed to someone who we’ll call Alf. Alf was slightly late, so hadn’t heard the news, and as he sat down, he was passed the card to sign. Now, as well as bereavement cards, we also often pass around birthday cards for people to sign. Alf assumed he was being asked to sign a birthday card – at least, I hope he was, as he signed: “Many Congratulations, Alf.”!

The person next to him saw what he’d written, and then one of those conversations which only seem to happen at Lunch Club occurred.

“You can’t write that!” said Bernard (I’ve changed the names).
“Why not?” said Alf.
“Well, read what everyone else has written,” suggested Bernard, “this isn’t for a birthday.”
“I can’t, I haven’t got my glasses with me,” said Alf.
“Here, use mine,” said George, passing his glasses along.
At which point, one of the servers arrived with a lunch.
“Oh, we’re not ready for food,” said Bernard, “we’re busy switching glasses.”
“Why are you switching glasses?” asked the server, “We have plenty more clean glasses in the kitchen.” And off he went to fetch a clean water glass.

Hope you have a good week, with a few laughs.
Take care,
Anne x

Anne E. Thompson is an author of several novels and one non-fiction book. You can find her work in bookshops and on Amazon.
Thank you for reading.
anneethompson.com