(Written yesterday evening)
I'm not sure whether this is the height of civility or the depths of depravity, but I'm sitting here on the bed of a very friendly B&B with a stomach full of spaghetti marinara and vanilla cheesecake, watching the final Sex and the City and writing this entry on the laptop.
Admittedly, I'm slightly older and considerably uglier than Carrie Bradshaw, and I wasn't actually writing this at the precise moment she was on her laptop writing her column as
But can I just say that even though I've been told I look like Big, I still think he's got a face like an old boot while Mikhail Baryshnikov has more charisma and sex appeal in his little finger than the whole of the rest of the cast, male and female, put together.
All in all it's a pretty civilised end to a difficult day. Packing is never fun, nor is driving long distances. And this time, within minutes of getting onto the M4, we were hit by the worst rain storm I have ever tried to drive through. It really was like being in a car wash. Traffic slowed right down to walking pace and even that felt recklessly fast. And then, as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone. Go figure. Tomorrow's weather is predicted bad, which doesn't bode well for the falconry lessons.
Our B&B is tucked away on a hillside near the village of Porthcothan, and it's one we've stayed in before. The owners are chatty and like to sit you down with tea and cake for a natter when you arrive. This ought to be irritating but is instead highly enjoyable – it's the main reason we came back here. They also like to take photos of their guests, and we were shown the one taken of us at breakfast in autumn 2002, placed neatly in an album.
Although this establishment is highly admirable in many ways, one sad disadvantage is that I can't get a network in our room in order to check emails and to post this entry. However I know one can be got from elsewhere in the house using Orange, and our Virgin mobiles have one right here, so I'm hopeful that this Vodafone card will find one at some point. And if not, there's always tomorrow. Which, when you read this, will be today if I can't post tonight, making today yesterday. Or something.