By: Blonde Two
Yesterday Blonde One and I left work as soon as was professionally possible (pretty early really) and set off on our annual pilgrimage to the Dartmoor bluebells at Holwell Lawn. I can’t remember how long this tradition has been in existence, but it is one that is definitely worth continuing (as is the most excellent dinner afterwards at The Old Inn in Widecombe).
There is a strange (and very Blonde) twist in this tradition. On all of our visits we have done the expected bluebell type things: sit and relax amidst the bluebells, breathe in the delicate bluebell perfume, take bluebell photos (we must have hundreds by now), put the world to rights whilst gazing at the bluebells (it usually needs it), lie down in the bluebells and walk around the bounds of the bluebells. However there is always something else, every year one of us (never both) is waiting, exactly on the day we have chosen to go to the bluebells, for news about a job.
Last year it was Blonde One, this year it was my turn. As it happens the news hasn’t arrived yet, maybe we need to go back up to the bluebells today!