Smallhenge

Who ever said Stonehenge was big. It's so small that when I got a little weary on my feet and needed to have a little rest, I just propped myself up against old Stonehenge for a couple of minutes for the well needed breather and was on my way.

On the weekend that Paul was away, my dear old friend G-Roov and I went to the West Country for a bit of a roadtrip. First up was a dear little country pub in a dear little country village called Wylye. Next, Stonehenge (as you can see).

We then headed far west to Weston-Super-Mare which is at the seaside in Somerset where G-Roov's parents live. We had a lovely English roast dinner with them ... oh, and Gin at 7 o'clock (Claire, you would have been in your element), stayed the night there (G-Roov has an apartment downstairs at his parents place) then on the Sunday headed back home via Bath.

Bath is just lovely. We did an open-top bus tour (which seems to be the thing I tend to do in a new city). Had another lovely lunch in a lovely country pub, went to the Roman Baths (a tad on the expensive side if you ask me), did some more walking around the gorgeous city of Bath taking loads of photos and then I drove our hire car back to Heathrow airport where we dropped it off and jumped on the train home.

An awesome weekend! The following day was a bank holiday here so for me ... time to relax and tidy up before Paul got home from Oz on the Tuesday morning.