Yesterday I went out on solo geeky outing, auto route said “its 41 miles” so I jotted down the details and set off.
86 miles later I was still lost in a web of winding country lanes with a finger board sign pointing to places such as “Willoughby-in-the-wold” (and that’s not made up!) I was quite prepared to overrule my “real men don’t ask directions” gene, but the thing is there was nobody to ask,
Here I am sharing a bit of land that I can cover up on my globe with my fingertip with 54 million others but cannot find another soul to ask. There were plenty of properties, the sort with 2 huge locked wrought iron gates and a pair of new BMW’s parked on the block paved drive.
These people move out to the countryside and then proceed to fortify their houses in the same manner as a shuttered up row of shops in the inner city slums.
A tad ironic methinks.
Anyway I used the “phone a sex goddess” option and gave K a call who pointed me in the right direction.
Got there, it rained came home, pah!
I want to write something deep and meaningful, something that will set up a train of thought that is both taxing and enlightening, unfortunalty nowt but tumble weed is whistling through my head, it being weekend and the kids being home means at least 12 hours per day of “saved by the bell” and “Sabrina the wotsit” blaring from the tele at all times. This to be quite honest breaks me, so I have been spending a lot of time in the garage playing with bits of balsa wood. I could do with some heat and a comfy chair in there.
We are off to the island next week, I hope K has a nice time, it will be good to see the hoose with its new windows and doors. To walk down the croft and sit by the sea, to be battered by the cleanest smelling wind and be dwarfed beneath the endless sky.