Just for a moment imagine London in drenching rain. When she has her party dress on, London is one of my very favourite places in the world. When it is pouring; it is the very worst. Was Sunday, so took off for a mad dash around Spitalfields, the Tate and shopping in Regent Street. Of course hadn’t processed that Monday was bank holiday. At 2 minutes past 4 checked where to find the hire car that I had booked. Hmmm. What car hire place at a major international train station closes at 4pm? A frantic call to Avis – you will need to go to Heathrow for a car. Climbed on to the train with piles of other drowned rats only to be told that every car at Heathrow was unavailable. Seemed terribly odd with row upon row of cars but car paranoia seemed a wasted effort. Eventually found a lovely little ‘A’ Class that was available at Europcar so amongst the fumes, pouring rain and noise of one of the world’s busiest airports finally headed north about four hours late.
The yellow oolitic Jurassic limestone of Cotswolds villages were somewhere in the darkness and pouring rain but I might has well have been driving across Mars for all that could be seen. It had been a very long time since breakfast and little villages were all in darkness so the best hope of getting anything to eat was most likely to be found in the city of dreaming spires. Not that any spires could be seen, but with thousands of cycling students surely there would be food available at all hours. Stopped at a funny Thai restaurant but the Phad Thai was surprisingly good. I can’t even begin to describe how damn tired I was when I finally pulled in along the canal in the home of the Old Bard.
Sleeping under the stars 