The Husband has been bustling about importantly this morning as he's been involved in a local radio treasure hunt. As Parish Council boss-person, he was contacted last week, and asked if he could hide a clue that was part of a Sunday morning show in which a presenter drives around the county getting 'help' from listeners who phone in. The clue was to be hidden in the Jubilee flower bed, made last year to appease the royalists in the village.
Proving that it's not just primary school children who drag a friend along to stop them feeling nervous, The Husband called for Mr Up-The-Road on his way to meet the radio presenter. Excitement was heightened by the fact that this was not just any old radio presenter - this was the tv weather girl who adds a flutter to many middle-aged men's hearts around here.
Son Number Two and I listened to the radio show from home, as 'helpful' people phoning in sent the treasure hunters up the wrong roads and gave very bizarre instructions. Knowing the location ourselves, we were able to pour scorn on the assistance offered and knew we could have done much better ourselves, if we had not been sworn to secrecy.
The treasure hunters were half an hour behind schedule, due to all this helpful advice, so I wondered whether The Husband and his BFF had disappeared off down the pub, but they were there when the weather lady appeared, grabbed the clue and leapt back in the car, leaving two very disappointed and heart-broken men by the side of the road. Before they sadly left for home, they were told that someone would phone one of them for a short interview later.
This caused a reappearance of their inner ten year olds, and they had a few minutes of, 'You do it!' 'No, you do it!' before deciding that Mr Up-The-Road's wife could do it, as the Jubilee flower bed had been her idea in the first place. 'But you can tell her,' Mr Up-The-Road told The Husband, nervously.
He did so: 'Hi, the radio station will phone you in the next half hour for a bit of an interview. Got to rush - I'm playing cricket. Bye!' Mr Up-The-Road made himself scarce by hurriedly going out to paint his shed, a job he's been putting off for several years.
I don't think the future bodes well for either of them...
Proving that it's not just primary school children who drag a friend along to stop them feeling nervous, The Husband called for Mr Up-The-Road on his way to meet the radio presenter. Excitement was heightened by the fact that this was not just any old radio presenter - this was the tv weather girl who adds a flutter to many middle-aged men's hearts around here.
Son Number Two and I listened to the radio show from home, as 'helpful' people phoning in sent the treasure hunters up the wrong roads and gave very bizarre instructions. Knowing the location ourselves, we were able to pour scorn on the assistance offered and knew we could have done much better ourselves, if we had not been sworn to secrecy.
The treasure hunters were half an hour behind schedule, due to all this helpful advice, so I wondered whether The Husband and his BFF had disappeared off down the pub, but they were there when the weather lady appeared, grabbed the clue and leapt back in the car, leaving two very disappointed and heart-broken men by the side of the road. Before they sadly left for home, they were told that someone would phone one of them for a short interview later.
This caused a reappearance of their inner ten year olds, and they had a few minutes of, 'You do it!' 'No, you do it!' before deciding that Mr Up-The-Road's wife could do it, as the Jubilee flower bed had been her idea in the first place. 'But you can tell her,' Mr Up-The-Road told The Husband, nervously.
He did so: 'Hi, the radio station will phone you in the next half hour for a bit of an interview. Got to rush - I'm playing cricket. Bye!' Mr Up-The-Road made himself scarce by hurriedly going out to paint his shed, a job he's been putting off for several years.
I don't think the future bodes well for either of them...
This isn't the weather girl I went to school with, is it? If so, then I assume the fluttering hearts are caused by mortal fear rather than anything else.
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