A Right Old Soak
WOMAN'S WEEKLY|October 1, 2019
A walking holiday in Wales proves an uphill struggle
A Right Old Soak

You join me on the side of a Welsh mountain, and I hope your jacket is a lot more waterproof than mine. If you’re a weather forecaster who happens to be reading this, well, all I can say is that you might have mentioned the words ‘heavy rain’ and ‘absolutely soaking wet’ and ‘absolutely dying for a cup of tea’.

‘Never mind,’ says Mr Dear, cheerily. ‘The sun will be out in a minute and we will soon dry out.’

Before we continue, let me first describe Mr Dear’s outfit. Starting at the top, he is sporting a rather battered and floppy white hat of the sort that amateur cricketers of great age wear when they are fielding. Moving down, he has a shirt of faded khaki that’s just visible through what he refers to as his windcheater, a word not used in common parlance since about 1956. It is green, or thereabouts.

He has long, white old-fashioned shorts that reach the knees of his long, white old-fashioned legs. On his feet, he has brown leather walking boots and green socks. On his back, he carries a vintage-style rucksack that he found a couple of years ago in a National Trust shop. He looks like a scoutmaster from an Enid Blyton book.

هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة October 1, 2019 من WOMAN'S WEEKLY.

ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.

هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة October 1, 2019 من WOMAN'S WEEKLY.

ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.