Aaaah, I still feel shattered after dashing hither and yon across these green lands of Merrie Englande. No sooner had we returned from our London trip, than I walked in the door unpacked my bags and repacked them for my trip up to Leominster. With some care and forethought I purchased my ticket from Manchester to Glossop in case of any delays on the return journey. And how wise I was to do so! Once at Leominster, after I had enjoyed a lovely chat with various Welsh ladies, I popped into Ken's car and began the long drive down to Aldingbourne (near Bognor Regis). Twas a mighty journey, and not without its perils. To amuse myself, and my disenchanted sibling, I sent dear Kirst many a glorious picture of the motorway as we hit various points on the journey. She was able to see what the three shires area looked like on the motorway, ditto Gloucester, the Cotswolds, Winchester, Portsmouth and Chichester. She, I am sure, was vastly appreciative. Once in Chichester we popped over to Birdham pool where dad lived on a yacht until he was 6, and visted the house where he was born, as well as other areas of familial interest. While Ken rested at the Travel lodge I dragged dad off for a stroll around the neighbourhood, where we enjoyed foraging sweet peas, blackberries and sighted many other edible delights. We arrive back at the travel lodge just as a light drizzle began to fall. We then headed off to the local pub next to the racecourse for a delightful meal, where the BUGS, the local ukelele group both 'delighted' the ear and provided a topic of discussion. The next day we collected Kirst from the train station. We were afforded the opportunity to closely examine the delights of the station and bask in the sunshine as her train was 20 minutes late. We then headed off to Birdham Pool etc again. After that Ken refuelled and we headed to Aldingbourne Church for the memorial service at 12:30. Sadly, Ken had filled up with petrol, not diesel, so the service was delayed while he organised for a pumping technician to come and 'cleanse the car'. The memorial itself was simple and lovely, with Father Martin saying some lovely prayers. We then skulked about the graveyard like thoroughly disreputable characters until the pumping technician arrived, some 95 minutes later. The fuel removal took another 30 minutes to do and I blessed my foresight in booking the 8:08 train so that emergencies like this could be accommodated. We drove back to Leominster like the hounds of hell were on our tail, a trip so terrifying I read
The fault in our stars cover to cover to distract myself from the journey. The light that evening was glorious, and I yearned to photograph the deep green fields edged about by trees and backlit with a deep golden light in the gloaming. We arrived in a rather damp Leominster at 7:40pm and headed to the local pub
The White Lion for a refreshing cup of tea. Standing on the darkening platform I noted with no little interest and a total lack of surprise that my train was delayed by over 10 minutes but I boarded it at 8:20 with a sense of relief. Sadly my phone chose that moment to die completely. The train was absolutely freezing (Thanks Arriva!) a situation not helped by my pretty, yet far too summery for the climatic conditions, skirt and top. I finally staggered off the train in Manchester in the arse end of the station, a part I had never seen before at 10:30pm. My plan for a light dinner before the train journey foiled, I dragged myself onto the platform where the Glossop train hulked, The cruel wind whistled across the exposed platform while the shivering passengers gazed piteously at the locked doors. I have never seen a train boarded so fast once the door locks were disengaged. I finally staggered in the door at 11:35pm and went straight to bed. We didn't do much on Thursday and Friday but the boys did enjoy their session at Gym class today.
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