Misapprehensions

We were just about to enter the Elm Tree last night when as passing couple asked us "Can you tell us the way to Owlgate?"

We couldn't (I wish we had an Owlgate!) but we directed them just round the corner to Allergate.

Later, the young man who joined the noisy table next to ours greeted us as old friends, and, when I obviously couldn't place him, explained "I'm the Broom House Farm butcher." Oh, of course. So, since I had been wondering whether the Farmers' Marhet would be going ahead on Easter Sunday, I asked whether we would see him there. Ah, he said, I was making the same mistake as he had: there was no conflict because April doesn't actually start until the folowing week.

I'm gkad I founf that out.