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Hello friends,
We are finally home from our travels, and I feel we got to see a good bit of England, even if it was mainly the North. Our last stop was a week in the lake district, and I have only one word to describe it, water...and a lot of it at that! Water in the lakes, water pouring from the skies, and don't even get me started on the effect it had on my plumage, all I will say is that I was not at my finest.
And so, to the Kendle Mint Cake. I ordered a slice with a nice hot cup of tea, and I can tell you there is nothing cake-like about it. Apparently, it's made for the serious outdoorsman...The kind of chap who likes to hike the fells in the above-mentioned rain while eating a pat of mint-soaked sugar.
Of course, that's not a world I know much about, preferring to spend my time in front of a fire with a nice book, so I switched my order to a cream horn but Robin...Oh, Robin! The moment that mint cake touched his tongue, he was a goner. He ate the whole slab! The ensuing sugar rush had him talking twice the usual speed (if you can believe such a thing). He set off for an adventure in the mountains, I watched him from the window, and he barely made it to the gate before returning, but the idea of striking out stayed with him for the rest of the afternoon.
And the worst is yet to come; today, we went up to the bedroom to unpack, and when I opened our case, I discovered that Robin had removed most of our belongings and left them behind so that he could bring home two enormous pats of that confounded mint cake!
His breath will be lovely, but I do fear for his beak!
Take care and stay warm; winter is coming. I only wish I had my favorite wool blanket, but it's been left behind in Kendal.
Wish me luck
~Quentin
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