Last night’s sleet delivered its promise of snow, at least an inch on my car at breakfast time, and continuing through the day. And it’s bloody cold, not so much from the snow but from the wind behind it, driving flakes like throwing knives into my every exposed pore. Munson had five minutes of careening through the whiteness in the park facing the B&B but that was quite enough for me bereft of gloves and sufficient layers of clothing.
I met Howard down at the Sugarloaf cafe again, secure against the cold with my mocha coffee and slice of Victoria Sponge (great aunt of Bob l’éponge). He dropped Munson’s portrait off at the print-shop as he’ll be producing limited edition runs and selling them through his web-shop.
We stayed in during the afternoon as a blizzard was expected around 3pm. This never eventuated but the icy wind kept up and we had branches lashing against our windows for hours.
Mid-afternoon we were surprised by a knock at the door, fellow guest John Rust had returned to stay for a few days and he requested dinner with us at The Bugle Coaching Inn in Yarmouth. I was going to miss our hilarious breakfast chats almost as much as the sound of foghorns blaring in from the sea and audible pretty much everywhere on the island. John worked out how to slide a Rolf Harris delivery of “Can you tell what it is yet?” into pretty much every conversation and have me in gales of laughter.
Dinner was more of the same, with John promising to visit Australia again as soon as he could find another “£10 pom” deal.
I’m also going to miss John and Setsuko at our B&B The Hoo who have been so friendly and hospitable over the last week which was quite typical of most of the interactions I had around the Isle of Wight.