Z is in Wiltshire

I say, the M25 has come on a bit in the last couple of years. There were great swathes of speed limits for ages, but now we all sweep along at the national speed limit and not an mph more, of course, natch, hem hem, for miles and miles. Anyhoo, I managed 230 miles in less than 4 hours which, considering the total buggerdom of actually getting out of Norfolk is quite an achievement.

And I arrived at Wink’s – ooh, the weather really turned nasty after Stonehenge and driving wasn’t at all nice for a bit – and picked up the key from a neighbour and then changed shoes and went to the shop for lemon and ice – I’d brought gin and tonic – and since then we’ve had a very jolly and slightly drunken evening.

The Sage is fine, and do bear in mind that he was invited to come along, and actually I asked him to and made it clear that I really would like him to. So if he implies that he is little boy lost at home, that’s not down to me but to him. But, to balance the books, he was so sweet this morning. As you know, it was Elle’s birthday yesterday, but her sister’s present hadn’t arrived yet. So the Sage went down on the bike to the Post Office this morning to pick up the mail before she went to school. Her sister’s package hadn’t arrived but another one had, so that was good, and … ooh, I slept in rather badly. I was awake, as so often I am, for hours in the night and the alarm went off – the radio, that is – at 7.15 and I listened to the news and then I thought I’d just sleep for a few more minutes.  Yeah right, as the young people say. An hour later…

And I’ve been rushing round like a grizzly bear on heat, if you’ll excuse the expression, and it is honestly better than sitting around because that makes me miserable. But it’s good to switch off and do other things. So that’s what I’m doing. 

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