Britain

Slow Monday

Getting back home never fails to cheer me up. We have been away for 10 days and no matter how beautiful the holiday was, the cream teas luscious, the pasties tummy enlarging, and the fish and chips oily and sinful, but the comforts of home are matter for verse. Only if I start writing verse, it would veer into nonsense verse.

Monday has been creeping along at a snail’s pace but in an interesting way. What could have happened in the matter of half a day, right?

To start with, I have realised that Northampton postmen are a class apart. I sent a postcard to the lovely Cheila because she started a postcard/letter exchange idea with other bloggers. This was more than a couple of weeks ago, so I have been wondering while even on holiday about why it had not reached her. But it did not – so much so that Cheila even promised to stalk her postman. I certainly hope, dear girl, that it is a matter not acted upon, because when I got back home yesterday evening I had the answer.

The postcard had been posted back to me.

The postman had decided to choose the ‘From’ bit to act upon.

That apart, I had a long chat with the rental agency guy, D, with whom I deposit the car keys every Monday morning after we return home from a holiday. We rent cars, yes. Usually Adi chats with him and I deliver them with no extra chatter. This time however it I who was the chosen one for an insight into his engaging personality. It turns out he has slight Asperger’s syndrome – a lifelong syndrome which affects people by burdening them with overwhelming anxiety about communicating with the world at large. He likes to spend time by himself and shuns women because in the past his girlfriends have had him followed. “Women do not get me,” he said. The heart-felt thoughts of any single man.

Instead he spends his time getting his elbows ripped apart while riding his BMX bikes, fanatically games away his time on the X-box (I have to declare myself a badger-some wife who has managed to part Adi from his, so it lies gently weeping beneath our telly) and deejaying apart from being a cool dad to his two teenage girls. Then we had some more conversation about how we all choose our paths in life, how it is best to do what you want than giving into the paths set out by others and how it is cool to have white hair. I have some cropping up and Adi takes great pride in plucking them out. I have put a stop to his gleeful past-time though.

Random conversations pep up any day for me. Random insights into people and their ways of thinking. Random bits of information. Like how Bournemouth is ‘God’s Waiting Room’ because people like to retire there.

Anyway, as we drove back home yesterday, the skies were festooned with clouds. The cloud chaser in me had a rollicking time. This is how.

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The last stretch of yellow and patterned green fields somewhere in Cornwall
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Tamar Bridge as we left Cornwall behind and entered Devon
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The countryside in Somerset
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Fields of Somerset
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Into Cheddar, a village where cheddar cheese is made. Watch out for Cheddar Gorge, which is the largest natural gorge in Britain, and which I have been wanting to climb for some time. 
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What do we see as we enter the village but a tractor rally.
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Forgive the smudges on the windscreen — the midges had a field day smashing themselves against it. But oh look at the towering cliffs above Cheddar.
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If you are somewhere in Somerset, do not miss out on this.
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Rock climbing 
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While others were exploring the gorges, we decided to return another day because we had a long way to go home. Plus there were no parking spots left for us.
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Colours of the country
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Fields of Wraxall in North Somerset
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Clouds and church spires through the sunroof
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Trees, with leaves sprouting on them, raise their gnarled heads as we chase clouds above the houses of Bristol.
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Wandering into the Cotswolds
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Because Adi had wanted to go into the Kemble Aerodrome for some time now
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A historic airport in Gloucestershire where some aircrafts apart, children and men race bikes 
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A last look at one of the smallest airports in the country

 

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