With the last group having left Skern Lodge quiet for the weekend and stock in the stores checked I passed Jolyon the sole responsibility for our shared bathroom and left North Devon. One small step towards Heathrow and the true start of this adventure.
The sun set a blazing red in my rear view mirror as I sped, as fast as the lack of local law enforcement would allow (pronounced 'zooming'), away from the sea through Somerset and Wiltshire and to Jimbo's new residence, Naphill, in the Chiltern Hills.
The cottage He and Sammi now share, and Sammi's work there, are a juxtaposition. Picture-postcard rural England Jimbo frequently isn't. I'm sure he won't mind me saying that there are many things that Jimbo has been called, but quintessentially English has never been one of them. Friend, however, is and I try my best to make time to see friends who don't live within easy distance of Skern as I travel back and forth across the country. The journey from Skern to Aylesbury in particular has many friendly ports at various intervals. I suspect that soon the drive itself will take days rather than hours as I drop in on people!
With the holiday begun, the self-imposed drinking ban has been lifted and we grabbed a box of beer for the evening. The not drinking has been easier and more successful than I had believed it would be. I feel noticeably more alert and certainly healthier. I'll bear that in mind again after the wedding celebrations!
*the Sammi shaped mark on the wall is my fault- we dragged her up the steep and narrow stairs to bed and with me at the head, chaos broke lose. Not that she did anything at all to aid the situation.
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