I see I didn't write about my weekend. Or on the weekend. It was quiet, well except for a trip to a place called Adrenaline Forest. Gill had bought some tickets for us before she disappeared to the UK. Last weekend was the last time to use the tickets so Rachel, Diana and I found our way there, my navigation didn't help in this easiest of tasks. A recurring theme.
What a hoot, three women of a certain age following a group of kids around the courses. Their mums were sensible enough to be watching from the ground way, way below. I made it most of the way through excitement, trail 3. I only stopped because my friends were tired, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. It was so tiring, all that hanging onto things so I didn't fall off. Hauling myself up ropes, over wobbly bridges, movable feasts of logs and planks and ropes and the flying foxes (zip lines).
It was so much fun, something I'll do again. My muscles told me on Sunday that I'd overdone it a bit. We met for dessert, well earned dessert, that evening and retold the days dramatic, near death stories. Sunday it was open homes time. I wandered to the first one, meeting a lovely young lass in the process. We spent some time looking through it properly a bit later in the day. People have such amazing stories, Rebekah was no exception. I hope we will get to meet again, to continue our conversation.
This evening I've been enjoying a Chianti, as I was looking through my photos I found this one. Taken in a small town in Peidmont, a treat of local wine with the Barbaresco, Barolo and Nebbiolo reds from this place so famous and so very moreish. Di, Sandy, Salette and I may just have sampled a few that day of summer sunshine and vino tasting.
What a hoot, three women of a certain age following a group of kids around the courses. Their mums were sensible enough to be watching from the ground way, way below. I made it most of the way through excitement, trail 3. I only stopped because my friends were tired, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. It was so tiring, all that hanging onto things so I didn't fall off. Hauling myself up ropes, over wobbly bridges, movable feasts of logs and planks and ropes and the flying foxes (zip lines).
It was so much fun, something I'll do again. My muscles told me on Sunday that I'd overdone it a bit. We met for dessert, well earned dessert, that evening and retold the days dramatic, near death stories. Sunday it was open homes time. I wandered to the first one, meeting a lovely young lass in the process. We spent some time looking through it properly a bit later in the day. People have such amazing stories, Rebekah was no exception. I hope we will get to meet again, to continue our conversation.
This evening I've been enjoying a Chianti, as I was looking through my photos I found this one. Taken in a small town in Peidmont, a treat of local wine with the Barbaresco, Barolo and Nebbiolo reds from this place so famous and so very moreish. Di, Sandy, Salette and I may just have sampled a few that day of summer sunshine and vino tasting.
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| Peidmont, Italy |
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| The raw materials |
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