As it turned out, chicken bites, chips and beans had a stronger calling than antiquity, as far as our three granddaughters were concerned. It was undoubtedly ill-timed, to arrive at the City Museum around lunchtime. Still, the girls demolished their lunch, and the adults fuelled up on cream of vegetable soup, rolls, and over-priced coffee. Although, the woman on an adjoining table was taking it too far when she sent the coffee back twice, because it wasn't hot enough.
Like many Cathedral Cities, Winchester has a dazzling array of trendy shop fronts, smiling out at passers-by from its time-worn, architectural gums. A statue of King Alfred has been waiting, too far from the bus station, for as long as I can remember, while the pedestrian traffic always seems to be entirely composed of people at lunch. You get the feeling that a whistle may sound at anytime, and you'd find yourself alone in the street.
Thank goodness for chimes of reality, such as the moment when one of the twins deposited her own small designer puddle on the floor in Cath Kidston's. Then the rush to clean up and leave for the relative privacy of a side-alley where a quick costume change took place before our car park ticket expired.