Wardrobe malfunction

This statue is in the grounds of Hinton Ampner, a place I (and Mr DawnAgain, for that matter) have driven past many a time without ever having visited. Today, armed with our National Trust membership, we dropped in. To be  honest, I was a bit underwhelmed by the place. It's all a bit faux and not that interesting except as a nice house with lovely views of the Hampshire countryside that I'd be more than happy to live in. It's known for its gardens, I gather, but unfortunately they were mostly closed-off today due to excessive mud.

We started our visit in the tea shop and, I must say, the food is great: a good choice of delicious, home-made fare. There was, however, a very long, slow-moving queue as a result of huge visitor numbers (presumably because it was a rare, sunny day) and there being only two members of staff serving/working the till. They were working their socks off though, which was obvious to us all, yet one couple when they were served, took it upon themselves to say, "We've had to wait a very long time". Talk about stating the bleeding, unnecessary obvious. The girl serving them took it well, though, and reassured them that she and her colleague were doing the best they possibly could in the circumstances. I just wanted to punch them and found out afterwards, when Mr DawnAgain and I sat down to eat our cream tea and onion and garlic soup followed by a huge shortbread, respectively, that he had felt the a similar compulsion. It's fortunate that we didn't act upon it really.

On the way home we played 'Catch the buzzard' which is much like Dick Dastardly's 'Catch the pigeon' but with birds of prey. Basically, we're driving along (and invariably I've made the mistake of letting him take the wheel) and Mr DawnAgain spots a buzzard, red kite or kestrel. He then performs an emergency stop, dives out with his camera and goes stalking off into the distance after said bird while I sit in the car cursing him (after I've closed the driver's door to keep the cold air out). Some time later he returns to the car, having failed to get any photographs of said bird, and we drive onwards for a couple of miles before doing the same thing again. And again. Etc.