A year, a whole year has passed since I got myself a Baroness and a couple of mini Barons. For the anniversary weekend we decided on a return to Derbyshire and the scene of the crime. The mini Barons would be staying with friends and the weekend would just be the two of us, in peace. Deep joy. And thus, a B & B in Matlock was duly booked, a stone’s throw from Bakewell, a mere eight miles. We would be walking to and from, a distance we regularly undertake.
However…
As previously documented on here, ten days before we set off I headed on a collision course with a coffee table. There was only ever going to be one winner and most people had their money on the solid lump of oak. They won, my toe lost. I sat with my foot elevated for ten days with my toe strapped to the one next to it (I call it, ‘Keith’) recovering. I sat and watched the foot act like a kaleidoscope and turn various different shades of blue/green/black/purple. It’s quite beautiful in an agonizing kind of way.
By the day of departure my walking had reached the dizzy heights of ‘hobbling like an old man’. And off we went.
We hobbled around Matlock Christmas market, we cheated and drove to Bakewell where we relived the wedding, staggered over the bridge where the lovely Michelle took some wedding pics and we had a little bite to eat in the pub into which we had crashed exactly a year previously exclaiming that we had just got wed and could they please seat eight for a wedding reception.
And in the afternoon, for no other reasons than it was a bit different, a bit of a giggle and I could sit down, we attended Matlock Town V Barwell and watched possibly the worst game of football I’ve ever seen. See picture.
The Baron and Baroness huddled together in the extreme cold, yelled, laughed and chatted with locals. It was great.
Finally, a bite to eat in a local pub, a great night’s kip in the best B & B I’ve ever been to and off we went, home beckoned.
Looking forward to the second anniversary already, so’s my toe.