The terribly British fear of speaking too soon

I forgot it would be colder and darker earlier today so we had to trot speedily over the tip. I say 'we' but actually George tried his very best to distance himself from me. He even got his front paws in a stranger's car in his attempt to get away.

Speaking of strangers, I had one of those moments when, on approaching a another walker coming the other way, I made the mistake of saying hello too soon, meaning I had to avoid all eye contact until we'd passed each other so I wouldn't have to think of anything else to say.

Out on the tip my cantering sent foxes and squirrels scuttling away. They probably saw my pink gilet and thought I was hunting them. (They do call hunting jackets pink, don't they? Even though they're red. It's one of those strange British traditions, isn't it? Or is it a figment of my imagination? I'm trying to recall if I've ever heard Shula in The Archers talk about it.)

To get to the tip we have to walk through the new mini estate next door. Full of very posh expensive houses one of which has gone the whole Halloween hog with its decorations. I swear I could hear Victoria Wood saying, 'Excuse me! We don't do things like that in Derwen Fawr!' 

'New money,' I sniff to myself. I have the makings of such a good snob.