You know it's time for a break when for the 56th time that day a random stranger shouts
"Found any treasure yet love?" or "have you lost your ship?"
Instead of an icy glare or a put down that involves a reflection on the size of their manhood, you just cry. I have no idea what it is about an eyepatch that has men forgetting all their social graces, answers on a postcard please.
and because i love a cliche, this pirate headed to the boat, and set sail
Fowey in Cornwall, the town with a new bakery, where the taxi's are boats, the houses are bedecked with pots, and celebrities live on the edge of the harbour.
where whippets sell tickets for boat trips, the ducks can hear the sound of a bead bag rustling from 3 miles away, and kayaks are filled with flowers, and where the harbour masters have boats named Zebedee, Brian, Dougal and Florence. Set the VHF to channel 12 and listen to them chatting away
"Zebedee, Zebedee, this is Brian. Over"
I want to live there, the blue house is for sale. Everybody that lives in such places, says it's not all rainbows and butterflies, i think they are lying.
Sort of like when a lovely lady comes to the shop, all wide eyed enthusiasm at the prospect of opening her own.
and she is met with a florist who needed a holiday, and said things like
"Don't do it, it's too late for me but SAVE YOURSELF"
"It's such hard work, and you go to dinner parties with bankers and lawyers and people will ask what you do and you'll say florist, and they will give you that look"
"and you'll never get the chance to have a Saturday off EVER again"
Sorry about that.