Author: Steffi
17 km – with Kevin.
Usually, there is always a pub as a suggested lunch stop on the way. Kevin and I were already phantasizing about Sunday roast, a nice chicken with savoury, for about 2 hours before we reached the pub. I was so hungry that I jumped on every blackberry bush that came across. Unfortunately, we were a little too late for lunch – the kitchen of the pub was closed already and would reopen only in the evening. Instead of that lovely, lovely roast we were dreaming about we had to survive on nuts, crips and super dry Victoria sponge cake. Why? Why do the English have no decent cakes???
