Gummy Sheep

Urban myths abound of the weary traveller who fell asleep on top of the bed-time chocolate which has become a mysterious routine in UK hotels.

Over here they are more practical, and the night-time refreshment is often (and equally mysteriously) a small packet of gummy bears.

[Just to digress for a moment, did I mention that they also have his and hers duvets here?  So even if you are sharing a double mattress, you have a set of bedding each?  It’s very civilised, especially if you are married to a Duvet Thief, which fortunately neither Sid nor Doris is.] [I hope you are impressed by the grammar of that sentence.]

Anyway, we have been well-drilled by our parents not to chew gummy sweets after we’ve brushed our teeth, so instead we stow them in the Collection of Useful Bike Snacks.

And today they came in useful, in a low-energy moment.  This packet was actually a set of gummy sheep and it reminded me of Joe’s tales about hunting wild sheep in the US.  Yes, seriously UK folks, these are not fluffy little Baabaaraas and Maaarthaas, this is a proper sport equivalent I guess to stag hunting in Scotland.

So I BIT THEIR HEADS OFF yes I did GRRR gnarrff chomp chomp chomp that showed the little rotters who is boss.

I can’t say any more becof my feeff are all ftuk togeffer fnow.