It’s funny how unmistakable the sound of a deadline flying by can be even when there’s plenty of time before it arrives. It’s a sound we must really enjoy at some sort of subconscious level we think, because we do nothing to prevent it.
Today for instance we thought we might start after talking to the propeller bloke in England. An hour later he exhibited no desire to stop talking despite talking us out of buying anything from him, because he seemed to be in love with my accent. Then Dick and Linda offered to take us to the supermarket, and despite us not actually needing or even wanting anything of course we accepted.
Thereafter followed stops for refreshments, aperitifs and that particular kind of conversation that could go on all night if there wasn’t packing and tidying to do. There’s this wonderment among our British friends, who simply don’t believe we are returning to winter, and temperatures that are not dissimilar to this terrible summer heatwave we are currently experiencing.
But we'd better get going. Tomorrow.
1 comment
Safe travels, my friends!
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