It started with another stinky tube ride. Everyone was loaded up with bags, sleepy and mongy, we caught the nasty-o northern line, half empty that Saturday morning. Stew and Nick had big Aussie backpacks and assorted other bits. I\u2019d packed the previous night whilst half asleep and decided that I didn\u2019t really need anything to survive a week in Cornwall. A toothbrush was all I could think of, wrapped up in a sock. And a book; \u2018Reformation Europe 1517-1559\u2019 I don\u2019t know why I brought that. No knifes of forks or cups or bars of soap made it through my selection process. But about a dozen tapes and CD\u2019s did. It didn\u2019t matter in the end. Bleary eyed we made our way to the Edgware road depot to meet Ben and pick up our car. A nice blue Mercedes A class, little thing into which we just fit. Stew drove us out of the concrete underground car park, and tentatively we made our way through the early morning streets of the city. Nick wielded the map, taking us through desolate outer suburbs and spaghetti intersections of busy highway. Gradually greener and greener, the smoke and grey high-rises fell behind us, as we drove through Kew, crossing the Thames, into leafy pleasant suburbs, past little local cafes where residents read the weekend papers and sipped coffee and had their croissants, little dogs tied up under the table, past pleasant early morning London ladies walking sleepily along the rows of closed up shops. We eased the car through these places, around big leafy roundabouts, merging with other weekend traffic, lots of people leaving the city today because it\u2019s the first day of the summer holidays.<\/p>\n
Eventually we were on the highway, and spinning along. Nick asks me what music to put on and I give him the freewheelin\u2019 Bob; and think of America again. I opened the window up and was buffeted – how good it felt to be buffeted again! by warm country air. Suddenly we could smell summer – fields of straw and clover, bees and gnats, ducks in green ponds – it was lovely. You can never smell these things in London In London, summer is a completely different experience.<\/p>\n
The smells there are of hot tar, car fumes, stinky underground air pouring out of huge vents, perfume and sweat and electricity all mixed, that\u2019s what London smells like.<\/p>\n
Everyone had forgotten to eat so it wasn\u2019t long before we pulled into a nasty \u2018road chef\u2019, that is, a field of bitumen covered with grumpy holidaying brits and all their kids and cars a place to eat that isn\u2019t very nice. We couldn\u2019t get the back door of the merc open for about half an hour, but eventually worked out the trick. Then we discovered there was a huge dent on the roof, with all the paint chipped off. Now, the rental company we had used charges about \u00a3250 for this sort of thing. It was all a bit of a let down after our excited highway driving. But Nick and Ben soon found a tall blonde with breast implants to be distracted by, and Stew called the car company, so everything was alright and we were off again. We stopped at Winchester to dip our feet in a little stream which was very cold and covered with ducks and frolicking children. And old man came up and started chatting to us, in a friendly way, about the town and the cricket and ducks and such. Suddenly we realised were out in the country and people were being nice again. Now London you see is very exciting and all but it is full of gloomy people walking around as if the weight of the world is on their shoulders, or as if they rule the world, or as if they\u2019re having sex with the person who\u2019s ruling the world or whatever. Suddenly here were little kids splashing in a pool and old bumbling men and the sun was sparkling on everything.. The air was clean and fresh. I dipped some bread into a pasta sauce I\u2019d brought along. It was full of rosemary and garlic and tasted great. Nick ran over with some bread to feed the ducks. It was such a relief to be free again. Such a relief. And the air smelt good.<\/p>\n
We were on our way to the coast though, so didn\u2019t stay in Winchester. Our next stop was Bournemouth which was quite different. Initially it seemed like a quiet coasty town with bungalows much like some of the places on the south coast (of Australia). We drove along quiet back roads past houses with palms in front, and weathered gnomes and caravans and seashells decorating the front fence. But suddenly the road dipped toward the seafront and plunged us into the depths of the most crazy beach carnival we had ever seen. Ben was driving now, and it was just as well Ben is a good driver because there were so many distractions. For a start there was the delicious beach and waves of candy-floss smell and tinkly beach music coming from the merry-go-round and the free martini tent, and the ice cream and the man with about a hundred helium balloons in his hand, and the blow up floating things which all the children had, and the sun. But the real thing that distracted us was all the tanned salty babe flesh walking about. I don\u2019t know about the others but I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever been to a place with so many scantily clad women walking about. It was one of the hottest days of that summer heat wave and everyone was out. We parked the car and made our way down to the beach. It was hard to concentrate on anything. One of us would start to say something but then be distracted by a pair of something or other\u2019s walking past. We got some free martinis from the martini tent- that was a good idea- then just sort of stood around in a daze, like we had lost something or forgotten something but couldn\u2019t remember what it was. Down on the beach it was just impossible. All these tanned lovely gorgeous young babes lying around exposed in post coital-like positions. We tentatively picked our way through, along a path strewn with towels and sand and buckets and arms and legs and hats. It was very hard to find a place to sit down. Eventually we did, near some tender Spanish lovelies, drying their wet hair and laying out on towels to sun their beauty, hidden barely by translucent strips of pink and yellow bikini material. The others went for a swim, I didn\u2019t swim unfortunately, just sat on the beach feeling a little over-dressed, but the water was very cool. Ben disappeared off somewhere (talking to some nice girl we found later) and didn\u2019t come back for ages. Nick and Stew paddled about with about a thousand other bodies in the tiny English surf.<\/p>\n
Later we went for walks about the town, it was a nice place, with a jazz band playing in the park. Although we didn\u2019t mind staying at the waterfront for ever, Ben and Stew had to buy a tent so eventually we went to shop and then drove on to have a look at the rest of the Dorset coast. It was an incredibly warm day, probably the warmest of the whole trip, and we never saw more beautiful breasts and bottoms and youthfulness anywhere else on our journey that we did that first day at Bournemouth.<\/p>\n
I was Driving next, and it was my first time driving for about two years, not counting a few hours last may. Quickly got back into it though, no rust at all! and no crashes – everyone was relieved. We were looking for a place to camp, and made our way to the outskirts of a little town on the Dorset coast where we drove along some narrowing dirt lanes through small seaside farms. We asked a farmer lady walking her two dogs for directions and places to camp, and were rather sternly told that we couldn\u2019t camp anywhere, it was all private property, in fact the very road we were on was private property and we weren\u2019t even supposed to be there asking her the question. With that she walked off. We were later to prove however, that it takes more than some English \u2018private property\u2019 concept to keep four mad Australians out of the fields and having fun. And we drove off in a huge cloud of dirt, past a startled ram (with enormous balls), hitting a gutter and almost causing our first dent.<\/p>\n
The avoidance of dent-making situations was to plague the trip. Because we would be charged so much for even a tiny scratch we had to be extra careful, which took much of the fun out of driving fast and dangerously. We still drove fast and dangerously, but much of the fun was gone. Once you get off the highways in England the roads become impossibly narrow, often only wide enough for one car, surrounded by hedges or rock walls. The towns are even crazier, with cottages on every corner, thrusting themselves out onto the road as if they wanted to walk across it, and sharp corners suddenly diverting you up some narrow alley full of chickens. The English are used to all this nonsense and crazily drive big busses and trucks and tractors at high speed around blind turns and through the village streets. We were to get used to this way of driving too, eventually, but for now it freaked us, or me anyway. \u2018Quaint\u2019 is the word they use to excuse all this business.<\/p>\n
We found a campsite eventually, back on the road towards Bournemouth, and that evening as we set up our tents a passionate orange peach-red blood stained golden globe sun hung in the air lighting up the valley and the broken walls of Corfe castle in the hazy distance. We were intrigued by this castle, and after dark, drove up to investigate. It sat high on a hill. The battlements were falling over and derelict, it had been blown up with gunpowder about three hundred years ago, but in some places much of the structure of the building was intact. The ruin covered a large area, with an outer walled patch and a path leading to the keep through a huge gatehouse, then winding up the hill through more defences to the original building, high walls filled with blank windows, some parts fallen down so the remains were jagged fingers of stone, grass growing in the gaps, and flowers. The whole thing was surrounded by a stout iron spiky fence, but we soon got over that, and wound our way through ruined walls and curly stairs and half tumbled archways to a place at the top where we could sit on a wall and overlook the land around us.<\/p>\n
It was a magical night. All the stars were out, mars was shining brightly, and the moon rose too, casting long shadows among the ruins, and peeking through the blank window holes. The air was warm – amazing for us after a seemingly endless English winter. Fireworks were exploding over some distant town, almost silently because of their distance. Crickets made noises. A joint or two was seen to pass from hand to hand, strange smoke merging with the heavy air.<\/p>\n
Things got a little crazy.<\/p>\n
It started off as some sort of war game, shooting grenades and what not. Diving in and out of hollows, climbing walls to hide in little niches. It was kinda scary though, if you were separated from the group for it was a ghostly place, full of black shadows and slight winds and echoes. Then there seemed to be someone with a torchlight coming up the hill towards us. I suppose some of us were a little more paranoid than usual but bolting seemed like a good idea. I ran off to the other side of the ruin because I\u2019d left my bag over there somewhere. I\u2019m not sure what happened to the others, but I heard Ben whistling. I think the torch went away eventually. Later Nick and I were enamoured with an enormous window set in the wall of a cold stone room. It was my favourite window ever. And further down the hill it was the cross like shadow cast by an arrow slit in the wall of the gate house that amazed us. There were dark rooms that you could only get into by crawling, and lots of battlements, and grassy slopes to lie on and look at the stars. That evenings adventures marked a transition of some sort. As we climbed out over the dangerous spiky gate and walked back to the car, it was like we had passed into a new adventure, like we were living in a fairy tale. Or who knows. Maybe it was just the weed. Anyway it took Ben a long time to stop us grooving in the headlights and get us into the car. Nick had become obsessed with the fairytale idea. The tiny doors and windy stone streets of the village helped to emphasise the strange experience we were having. We got back to the campsite at midnight, and probably woke up everyone in the whole place with our babbling, and by setting off the car alarm. In any case it took some irate loony from a neighbouring tent to come over and tell us off \u2018you\u2019se are gettin on me tit\u2019 and cause us to eventually go to bed.<\/p>\n
Nick and I slept with the tent door open, and at exactly 5.30am we were woken by an insane snuffling and scrambling and the sudden entrance of Baxter, the bull terrier. We had first met Baxter the evening before, when she sort of attacked nick while he was performing a very delicate joint rolling operation. When I say attacked, I mean a snuffle attack. Basically Baxter is a ball of unstoppable muscle, around which a dog skin has been stretched. And she liked our tent, I don\u2019t know why, maybe it was the smell of the grass. The first time it happened we had to be rescued by the owner, while nick hastily covered up all the open jars of suspicious substances. It was very nearly a disaster. This time, the first thing I knew was that this great heavy white thing was sitting on my face and beating me on the head with it\u2019s tail. Baxter. I tried to get her out but she just turned around and put her great slobbery tongue right in my mouth. Then she rushed around the tent, stomping on nick, who tried to hide inside his sleeping bag, and just generally bashing into things. I tried frantically to get her out, but I just couldn\u2019t. She was too strong. She burrowed under all the rugs and sleeping bags and when I tried to catch her she just wriggled and slid up the other end of the tent. I kept getting bashed by her tail, it was a weapon! At long last her owner came and took her away, but I was so exhausted and exhilarated from fighting Baxter that I couldn\u2019t get to sleep again. I wondered up into the woods and discovered a quarry, and some opium poppies, and watched the sun come up over the trees.<\/p>\n
It was actually one of the most entertaining ways I\u2019ve ever been woken up. To go from sound sleep to all-out battle with a crazed bull terrier within three seconds is an experience not to be forgotten.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m still quite fond of Baxter. His owner apologised profusely. Set off the car alarm again at about 9am. Soon after we were on the road and driving out to \u2018East Stoke\u2019 a tiny village of about 3 houses, which was of interest to us of course because it combined the surnames of Nick and Stu. On the way there we passed through a military area and a sign warning us about tanks crossing the road. The countryside afterward was lovely. We were some distance from any main roads, and the land was all divided up into little farms of grazing happy cows, and trickling streams, and forest, green and leafy. Nick drove us around for a while, practicing his manual gearbox skills. We were all forthcoming with advice, bombarding Nick with technical know-how, talking about letting out the clutch gently while holding up the revvs, equilibrium points, fuel mixtures.. we begin to spout poetry almost. \u2018beautiful.. that was almost sexual\u2019 \u2018soon you\u2019ll get a feel for the gates\u2019 and we tell car stories \u2018my mum used to drive everywhere in fourth gear\u2019 etc. Railway track stories, Ben\u2019s grandparents had the back of their kombi van chopped off by crossing a railway track too slowly. We disappear down tiny narrow leafy tracks into the forest, past barking farm dogs, old rusty farm machinery and cars, branches brushing the windscreen. \u2018Hey man I\u2019m getting the hang of this.. this is quite a nice car to drive too\u2019 Then back onto the main road, past villages and taverns \u2018The Black Dog\u2019. \u2018It\u2019s all about squeezing and then releasing it\u2019.<\/p>\n
Heading into Lyme Regis, we stop in a tiny village for lunch, and discover, in the pub, a skittles set. Not one of those plastic children\u2019s sets, but a real original adult set, with the balls made out of a very dense wood (so dense it sinks in water) and the skittles, 9, made out of a hard wood also. The house was evidently that of a very hardcore skittle player because he had a whole room devoted to it, with a special ball return pipe system and a chalky bowling alley and everything. We had a great game, you really have to fling that ball around and it makes such a satisfying clinking crunching sound when it plunges into those wooden skittles. Much better than tenpin bowling I thought, more earthy, more real. We had the rules explained to us but had to adlib a bit. You get three shots per round, and it is dang hard to knock over all nine skittles in those three shots. Ben and I were neck and neck for most of the game and ended up tying. The room was decorated with strange stuff too. There was an ancient cigarette machine on the corner, once selling gold flake. Other things too.. bottle tops? matchboxes? I can\u2019t remember now.<\/p>\n
Soon we were on the road again, listening to a great Jimi Hendrix live album I\u2019ve got. Nick does some fantastic twitchy facials, just like Mr Man himself actually. We passed shingle beaches, chalk cliffs, hedges lined the roads as we continued through the countryside, filled with low bushy gnarled trees. It was hot, plenty hot, the sky hazy blue and free from clouds. We couldn\u2019t see much of the fields around us, they were corn or something. A few orchards even. Ben overtakes guys who give us very put-out expressions. We pass a sign saying \u2018Life is something to do when you can\u2019t sleep\u2019. Coming into Exeter, I turn on the radio and it\u2019s a reading of \u2018Tess of the D\u2019Urbervilles\u2019. It\u2019s the scene where she meets that sharky chap in the forest. Nick goes into paroxysms of agony. But I find it glorious and appropriate, since we are driving through the English countryside. I force everyone to listen to it for at least 15 minutes.<\/p>\n
Exeter is very quiet, it being Sunday, and Ben can\u2019t find a camping store. He\u2019s looking for a very particular kind of sleeping mat and a large part of our trip was to be taken up in the searching for this item. I could go into enormous comparative descriptions of the various qualities of camping stores in the south west, we\u2019ve seen them all, but I wont.<\/p>\n
Torquay. October 99 I was last here, shortly after arriving in England. I didn\u2019t really like Torquay. I didn\u2019t understand the hallowed nature of the traditional English seaside holiday then. I was there in winter anyway and it just seemed to be a very touristy place with millions of miserable dingy hotels. It had the atmosphere of a neglected fairground then. Apart from a few green country lanes on the perimeter it\u2019s only saving feature to me was the Torquay Backpackers, run by a lovely lady called Jane, who was always smiling. Although a typical sleepy chaotic messy backpackers, it had a real warm atmosphere, some long term residents, and locals would drop in too. It\u2019s quite unusual for the local community to mix with<\/p>\n
travellers like that. I spent two weeks swilling wine and eating hamburgers before having to go back to London to find work. It was the place where I had discovered the address of a Northumbrian Zen monastery which I have since visited twice, also where a strange demi-relationship with a girl called Veronika sparked off, and tumbled on in strange fashion for a few months. The place had not changed at all. Dog was still there, happy and lanky. That\u2019s his name – \u2018dog\u2019. The old guitar was sitting in the corner of the common room with a broken string. I even found an old guest book entry I had made, \u2018thanks for the hospitality – most unlike a hospital\u2019 . It was all exactly the same.. except that everyone else had gone. There was a strange golden light fitting burning over the table where I had swallowed so many cups of Hardy\u2019s kookaburra stamp red plonk, and rolled sweet golden Virginia. I felt at home almost immediately and the others all agreed to stay for one night, which was very nice of them.<\/p>\n
We all got sent to different rooms – there were just four places left in the whole hostel. Ben immediately starts fluttering the hearts of a group of Spanish in room 9. Nick and stew are upstairs in rooms overlooking the town. I\u2019m in a small girls bedroom – all beads and red and pink hanging things and nice smells and small coloured articles of girls clothing. We meet Jane, who is also much the same, and still so friendly. She invites us down to a beach party at some hard to get to secluded spot, and we decide to go over, when the tide is low enough.<\/p>\n
Bit of a walk about town. The girls are not as beautiful here as at Bournemouth. More older people and families. The beach is flat and muddy, the water slimy, but warmish according to Ben and Stew. We walk along that dull summer touristy main drag – all the shops are shut up, Sunday, the air is hot. Everyone seems to be walking in the one direction. Still this place makes more sense in summer than it did when I was last here, an October. When night falls we make our way over to the beach that Jane mentioned. It took us a while, walking to the other side of town. We had to stop at a Thresher watering hole to pick up some watermelon sweet alcohols. Up the hill, suddenly roaringly happy and jubilant. Then along a dark path through forest we got disoriented and had to reassess the matter. We sat on a lovely green cricket pitch in the middle of a large green soft perfect field surrounded by green green green. We smoked something green then too. It was a very pleasant spot. We might never have moved on if Ben had not encouraged us. Fortunately the beach was not far away. We found it down a steep track in the dark, and over a slippery rickety bridge with great holes in it (that had been fenced off for safety reasons). We could see a campfire ahead and so didn\u2019t turn back, although for some of us our common sense and distaste for gory falling deaths suggested we should turn back then. The tide was coming in and waves crashed around on the rocks far beneath our feet. We all made it across though.<\/p>\n
Jane, smiling Jane, and some other dark smoke shrouded campfire people were lying there, in quietness, listening to the lapping of the waves and crackling of the wood. It was the quietest party we had ever burst in upon. I think we disturbed them a bit at first, but it soon sorted itself out. The answer: Marijuana. No no, not just that. Everyone was sociable really. Interesting people, listening people for the most type, not talking people. Some were swimming! Though by this time it was definitely not warm. Nice sort of beach though- actually officially closed because of dangerous crumbling cliffs all around, that was how we could be sure not to be disturbed (except by flying rocks). Talking and staring into the campfire. They had a guitar which some of us played, I was a bit embarrassed and played quietly.<\/p>\n
Nick and Stu got completely phased interdimentional on that weed. We were sharing it around too and quite a lot was used up. Ben found some nice Australian lady to talk to. The fire was fed with good solid pine logs. The air was warm. Someone started cooking some food and nick and stew fell on it like ravenous beasts. They made a good impression though, nick for much of the night laying on his back spinning out bent nickisms to everyone\u2019s delight and amazement. And Stu is a good guitarist, played some nice stuff. Eventually people started getting ready for sleep, so we climbed our way up from the beach, eight of us, lead by a nice mystery torch carrying character. Up a steep crumbling slope, and then through deserted fields overhung with stars, along a wooded track. We all walked along silently. Tired or stoned I don\u2019t know, Nick said it was like we were sleepwalking. We caught taxis home. Whatever time it was, the hostel was still busy. Late night stair conversations were had, but I missed them. I went to sleep. The occupants of my room I hardly saw, only their quiet breathing stirred the room when I slipped in. They came quietly in and out during the night and when I woke up in the early morning they were all gone, I wondered what I had been dreaming. Strange provincial mystery women, living in Torquay, creatures of the summer night, they go where they go.<\/p>\n
It took me a while to get out of that old hostel and onto the road again. I spent the last couple of hours recording Leonard Cohen and Avalanches for the continuing road trip. Had a cup of tea in a little shop in town where everyone knew everyone else and even the local policeman came in and sat down for a cup though he was on duty.<\/p>\n
We headed for Dartmoor, driving through beautiful farmland. Dartmoor is a national park but that doesn\u2019t mean it can\u2019t have farms and villages like everywhere else. We stopped for some incredible Devonshire \u2018cream tea\u2019 Scones with clotted cream and jam. Yes. The real thing, baked to perfection, so heavy we all had to lay down on the grass – in the shade of a eucalypt funnily – and may have fallen asleep had not the wild lands before us called us on. Soon we were driving through moor land. Sheep slept on the side of the road, or wandered on to it, oblivious to us. It was a high windswept place and stunning. We stopped by an ancient stone bridge whose main span was just two or three pieces of enormous flat granite. In the afternoon we found a campsite on moor land which was part of a huge military firing range. Our tents we put up beside a stream in a field of cows. There was no one about, just us and the cows. What an amazing place.<\/p>\n
At the risk of being beaten, I must recount an amusing incident that happened to unfortunate Stu. There was this unhappy cow walking along the fence side and Ben was chasing it along because it seemed to be lost, separated from it\u2019s herd. It was making it\u2019s way down the river when suddenly Stu turned up around the bend, laden with all his camping gear. There is a reason why we told Stu that the cow was a bull. It\u2019s because we knew he would believe us, because he knows nothing about cows and bulls. The fear which he registered was quite unexpected to us though. Sure, that cow was mooing and grumpy and walking toward him, but it wasn\u2019t exactly charging, as Stu later claimed in his defence. Anyway to escape trampling, Stu was transformed from a mild mannered city worker into a flying warrior, and he hit the water with velocity, jumping the stream, jumping the fence, covering himself with mud, dropping everything, while the \u2018bull\u2019 ambled on downstream. Oh dear, it was not our happiest incident, and Ben was in big trouble because as Nick and I made clear, it was all his fault.<\/p>\n
Anyway, we had a portable barbeque, and a whole stack of meat from a village butchery we\u2019d passed. Ben took off all his clothes, as he is wont to do, and started washing in the stream. He washed Stu\u2019s shoes too, which were suede and ruined by mud. The leek and Pork sausages sizzled away. Then Ben started collecting dried cowpats to make a campfire because there was no wood anywhere. He tried to get us to all help him collect cowpats but we wouldn\u2019t. I must say though, that Ben\u2019s cowpoo fire was a great success, and it smouldered away for much of the night, to the amusement of the bovines. The barbecued meat was goot. So much meat. After the sausages we had mint lamb chops and then little meat patties. We were completely stuffed with meat, and red wine, we had copious bottles of red wine. We smacked our lips to the clouds and the rolling desolate hills all around. I gnawed my chop like a madman.<\/p>\n
\u201cSeriously man, before we go up that hill, I reckon we should<\/p>\n
get some more cowpats\u201d<\/p>\n
Before it got too dark we decided to walk up a nearby rocky knoll. It was steep and momentarily exhausting, walking through the spongy grass and heather. We reached the top and were stunned. The view was over rolling moors to the horizon, with hardly and human habitation to break the barren slopes. The sun was nearly set, it broke the clouds and did strange things to the colour of the sky. A wind blew us which quickly made everything cold, but we stayed on, watching the changes. Around us the rolling moor, sheep, rocks all faded away into a hazy dusk purple. The sky to the east was an intense deep blue. To the north it was pink and apricot, under which thin spinning clouds moved quickly, broken into patches and ripples. As the sun sank it lit them into fire. There was a magnificent stillness. Everyone was so excited they took their clothes off.<\/p>\n
Ben went back first – it was so cold with the wind blowing – and we watched him from our hilltop roost as he chased the cows far below, then stirred up the cow poo fire into a bright spark alone in the darkness. Then nick climbed down over the ledge, nursing a wine bottle and \u2018rollicking\u2019 babbling off into the dark valley, followed by Stu. I stayed up for some time as it got completely dark, and the last colours fell from the sky, leaving only the stars and the moon, shining through thin biscuit-wafer cloud patches. There were some lights from a village not far away, and a few headlights on a very distant road. Occasionally the boy\u2019s voices floated up to me on the wind. When I got back they were all asleep.<\/p>\n
It was foggy and drizzlin\u2019 and overcast when we woke up, typical moor weather. Gee I can\u2019t remember what we were talkin about that whole night.. cow jokes? Ben telling us about that calf that sucked all the skin off some man\u2019s penis – when was that? This was probably our favourite campsite of the whole week. We were well impressed by it. In the morning though, everything was damp so we headed off fairly briskly.<\/p>\n
When we crossed the Tamar river and entered Cornwall, everything suddenly felt different. The air suddenly felt fresher and lighter, and seemed to hold a new ease and freedom in it\u2019s gusts. The Tamar looked lovely too, smooth and deep and black, lined with very happy trees. Made our first fuel stop and the lady – our first Cornish person – was very friendly and chatted away with a rich strange accent. She came over to help us open our fuel tank. The petrol station looked like it didn\u2019t get much use, although it was on a main road, half the pumps were locked up and covered in cobwebs. It seemed we had stumbled into a strange half abandoned land. We came to a fishing village and stopped at a little fish and chip shop \u201cval\u2019s\u201d which also sold pasties. Our first Cornish pasties in Cornwall. They were delicious, mushy and full of chunks of juicy meat and enormous too. The lady behind the counter called us \u2018flower\u2019 and \u2018darling\u2019 and \u2018my lover\u2019 (bit suspicious that). There were a few locals there buying fish. They all seemed pretty relaxed and happy, talking about roads and work. Taking their time, unlike Londoners. Stu called home to London at about this time and found he had finally got a good permanent job in the city. He\u2019d been going to so many interviews and working in so many un-fun temp jobs since coming to the UK 6 months ago. It was a great relief . As we drove, we read things about famous sailors who had lived around and sailed out of Plymouth, which was nearby. Some of Ben\u2019s family had sailed out of Plymouth to come to Australia, 150 years ago or so. Captain Cook also left from Plymouth. It was nice to feel some connection to the land, Stews family was partly from Cornwall too.<\/p>\n
We went to have a look at this new fandangled Eden project next. It is one of the primary destinations on the tourist map at the moment because it\u2019s just opened this year and had lots of rave reviews from the press and tourist authorities. They certainly look interesting from the outside. Like huge soap bubbles, they sit in a disused clay pit. Enormous Greenhouses, with tropical weather conditions inside – though it was nearly tropical outside that day – it has been a very successful project so far and the place was full of families and old ladies and not many groups of crazy guys like us. We decided to have a bit of weed before going in. It seemed appropriate, considering the weirdness of the place. Consequently I can\u2019t remember as much as I might otherwise have. What I do remember is having a few pipes in the car with Stu and Nick -a nice place to smoke a pipe, in a Mercedes – while Bob Dylan was playing \u2018like a rolling stone\u2019 and we looked over the pit and the giant globular glasshouses. We got very giggly and kept loosing vital things, like the car keys, and my wallet, and my phone, and just about everything.<\/p>\n
But we made our way down to join Ben eventually. I managed to pretend to be a student which I thought was a great achievement considering the performance of pretending to look for my student card took some time and I was in constant danger of bursting into a fit of giggling.But the lady let me in.<\/p>\n
Well we looked at all the plants – It was a bit like looking at a patch of bush from back home sometimes, with a few dry grasses and olives and prickly things carefully being nurtured. The tropical section was more interesting with a gushing stream running through it, and enormous lily pads, and ferns and banana trees and cocoa trees and coffee bushes and rice and insect eating plants and stuff like that. But really it was the misters that held our attention the longest. They were very refreshing and whenever one sprung to life we pushed our way in front of all the little kids to stand in the spray and be dusted with cool droplets.<\/p>\n
Outside, we sat on a smooth grassy hill and drank cool Pims, with fresh mint and pieces of fruit. Then had mad rolling competitions down the slope, making us dizzy, to the great amusement of everyone around.<\/p>\n
Ben was still on his mission to find the perfect sleeping mat. In Truro we accosted a nice lady and got directions to the nearest store, but although it was enormous, they didn\u2019t have the right type of mat either. Ben was beginning to give up hope. We all encouraged this. However while driving back towards the highway, despite Nick\u2019s best efforts to distract him, Ben spotted yet another camping store and turned us back. Anyway this time his persistence paid off and he found exactly the right sort of mat he was looking for so that was the end of that saga. It only goes to show how if you keep looking for something and never give up you\u2019ll find it eventually. What it doesn\u2019t show is that Ben, at that moment, was mere seconds away from death by drowning in the canal at the hands of his friends. And it was only finding the mat right then that saved him.<\/p>\n
We drove nearly all the way to land\u2019s end and camped by St Michael\u2019s Mount, an island cut off from the mainland only at high tide, with a sort of castle and monastery on the top. There was a big beach too, where a man was flying an enormous kite. It was ridiculous.. it kept lifting him off the ground and plonking him back again. He seemed to enjoy it. There were some other small kite flyers who were probably a bit ratted that he\u2019d outdone them. As soon as we parked the car on a nice patch of grass the car was turned into a temporary washing line and we all lay about it, spreading our things out, we had all been packed in chok-a-blok and it was good to stretch. Ben and Stu went for a swim. We all needed a wash, and sleep. There was a nice little village by the campsite, just a single road which ran along the waterfront and was lined with old buildings and pubs. It was very peaceful.<\/p>\n
We drove off to a pub later for dinner, in nearby Penzance, \u2018The Dolphin\u2019 on the wharf front. Over dinner, Nick went into fabulous accounts of his adventures in the world of transformers. He knows it all. He gave us a stunning shot by shot description of a battle between the autobots and deceptacons at the beginning of the transformers movie. We were transfixed. I think the family at the table next to us were too. The meal was good. Ben talked comfortably with the young waitress. \u201c have you been working here long?\u201d; since February. Ben has quite a way with women, a way of turning on some innocent childlike charm, shyness and an enormous grin, like a huge drift net, into which many lovely ladies have drifted. But Ben is so genuinely nice and talkative and friendly with everyone, not just girls, that we could only watch him in these situations with a kind of awe and admiration, as he drove his boat confidently into the harbour, with as much ease and skill as he drove us along the bendy roads of Cornwall. We had creamy Cornish ales then wandered out into the evening. There was a lovely sailing ship tied into the quay. The \u2018phoenix\u2019. Stew and I, before turning in, walked down the beach and across the causeway to St Michaels mount. We only had about 15 minutes as the tide was coming in to cut us off from the mainland. But the glimpse we had was enticing – a little stone wharf front of old buildings, and paths winding up the mountain lit by orange lamplight. We walked quickly back with the water lapping our feet, the moonlight shining brightly on the wavelets. All the pubs were closed by then. It was an early night.<\/p>\n
Our first stop the next morning was Mousehole, but I was driving and missed a turning so we ended up weaving our way through a lacework of tiny country roads, well hedged in. The villages around Penzance have strange names, and most of them are no more than a few scattered farmhouses together. One was called \u2018Ding Dong\u2019 and it looked like there had been some mining going on there at some time in the past. After driving around in circles for a while, swerving to avoid farm machinery , and bunny rabbits, eventually returning to Penzance and taking a scenic coastal route, through villages smelling of fresh fish, to Mousehole.<\/p>\n
Mousehole is also a fishing village, but the tight arrangement of little cottages around a central harbour lends it a charming air, and it is popular with artists and travellers. I parked precariously on the wharf front\u2014a spot that got me into trouble later – and having a look around, we instantly liked the place. Such a quaint neatly organised array of cottages and tiny roads, hardly big enough for a car. We had pasties and scones and tea and a nice walk around the streets, past sleeping cats and shops full of arty knickknacks. There were some beautiful maidens at the post office. Unfortunately I put a ding in the bumper as I tried to squeeze out of our awkward parking spot. NOOOOO!!! Gawd damn! That ding haunted me for the rest of the trip, though in the end the car people didn\u2019t even notice it.<\/p>\n
Well. It was essential to get to lands end now. Before we left London, one of our plans was to go directly there and work our way gradually back. But here we were, four days later and still not at lands end at all. So some quick driving on country roads took us there. We couldn\u2019t help stopping for a couple more things though -first a dirt path through a forest stream that Ben drove us through excitedly, with a huge splash. We felt we had to really make good use of the car I guess. We\u2019d done some \u2018circle work\u2019 earlier, on an old gravel dump at the side of the road, covering everything with dust. We took photo\u2019s, mm you\u2019ll probably see them soon.<\/p>\n
Our second stop, just a few miles before land\u2019s end was to see \u201cthe Maidens\u201d. These \u2018maidens\u2019 turned out to be just rocks unfortunately. A stone circle, nicely arranged in a field, surrounding views over flattish patchwork fields, well hedged, the air light and misty and warm. This end tip of Cornwall had a good feeling. Perhaps it is the sea being all around.<\/p>\n
Pity Lands end has been so awfulized by that tourist park. There\u2019s a good bridge overlooking a rocky crevasse, interesting rocks and foam and lighthouse and all. But since land\u2019s \u2018end\u2019 is a fairly arbitrary thing in my view, I found all the people and fuss off-putting. Because there really are lots of people. And this ghastly fairground and a sort of village created for the purpose of taking money off people who have come down to take a wee look about wit their chiddlens. Have they no shame? Erecting such monstrosities on a peaceful piece of coast. Someone said it was all Thatchers fault. pooh.<\/p>\n
Just a mile or so north, however, is Sennen cove, which is a lovely beach with perfect sand, surrounded by high bare hills and rocky bits and a little village. There were lots of people, of a beauty approaching those found at Bournemouth, only this beach was much nicer. We parked the car on a beach front walk and gee you should have seen the yearning shudders that passed through certain very youthful mademoiselle\u2019s walking past as Ben shamelessly undressed right in front of them. He could have scooped them into his arms by the bushel if he had wanted. They could barely continue walking. I saw their knees go weak. One almost had to be carried off. But Ben didn\u2019t even seem to notice. He is perfectly comfortable exhibiting his tall tanned lean figure. It is his secret weapon, his secret girl catcher.<\/p>\n
While they swam, I stayed back in the car, listening to Jim Morrison holler and cruising to avoid the police who were booking all the incorrectly parked vehicles on the seafront. Unshaven, with specs and a neckscalf, whew! Like a perfect criminal.<\/p>\n
We then followed the coast road to St Ives, through small stone villages, one after another, the Atlantic on our left. Small fields were walled in but the place was almost empty, we didn\u2019t see many people or animals. The exception being a few weathered old men, walking slowly and hunched over, not noticing us as we glided past. And a crazy horse, standing on a bank over the road, it\u2019s nose stuck out like it was sniffing the wind. Still as a statue, we thought it was a statue until it twitched once. Some of the buildings look abandoned, their stones tumbled, and the grass long and green. Ben hops out and takes a photo of us driving up a hill. We pass chickens, running around a farmhouse, \u2018Boswick farm\u2019. We are brought to a halt in another village by a duck crossing the road. Soon the land opens out, there are no trees, just rolling hills and rocks. The road winds crazily. We pass a turning to a place called \u2018Towednack\u2019. Everything is very windswept, the clouds are grey and low. As we near St Ives, we stop beside the road and climb up on a hillock. A beautiful lady is sitting on a rock, drawing the view which stretches over flat green sheep spotted land to the sea. Ben tucks some little wildflowers onto the windscreen of her car before we go.<\/p>\n
\u201c Well here\u2019s some more completely incongruous roadworks\u201d. Another double roundabout and we are suddenly in the busy town of St Ives. Everywhere on the walls and from the lamposts hang baskets of flowers. There are more flowers in the window boxes. And people everywhere, they walk all over the road in front of us. \u201care we a ghost car?\u201d \u201cmaybe the road\u2019s a brand new concept to these people\u201d \u201cfollow that booty\u201d \u201cis that a real tattoo that woman\u2019s got?\u201d \u201cBen, easy\u201d. It\u2019s so exciting to be in a busy place suddenly. And the streets are tiny, we edge our way forward, funnelled into narrower and narrower laneways overflowing with all sorts of people. We burst suddenly out to the waterfront, where lots of lovely boats are tied up, surrounded by a circle of houses and a wall to keep the sea out. It\u2019s so beautiful. An old pirate leans in the window and say\u2019s to us \u201cGonnat boy -pass \u2018em!\u201d he\u2019s talking about the people everywhere. \u201cJesus Christ! these people use their pram\u2019s like weapons!\u201d (nick) \u201cI\u2019m quite peckish… let\u2019s stay here.. did I just say that?\u201d. We get lost in incredibly tight back streets for a while, Alleyway\u2019s too tight and steep for the car split off to the right and left. In one I see a lone seagull wandering down a steep cobbled path to the sea, strutting nobly, head looking left and right. Ben finds us a spot to park on the jetty and we walk back along the town\u2019s waterfront, where there are many seagulls and they are monsters, vicious, enormous. One swoops down and steals a piece of Ben\u2019s pizza. The rest of us guard our pasties very closely. We discover a shop selling fudge, loads of it, the old woman inside makes it all herself, and she took her time as she cut us off huge chunks with a great knife. A stillness and surety that had come from selling fudge for 20 years as she said. Seeing our reflection in the mirrors, we looked a haggard bunch, smelling, too long on the road (though we could go for a lot longer.. a hundred times longer!).! How out of place we were, in that frilly shop! But we were grateful to the nice lady, and grabbed our bags of fudge, and stuffed ourselves and were soon completely fudge-sick.<\/p>\n
Well we had originally intended to go to Newquay today, but seeing as St Ives was plenty nice, and had lots of fine ladies, it seemed a good idea to stay here. The hostel was a great spacious place and had lots of room. The lovely hostel lady who greeted us (another four Aussie tramps) told us of the town\u2019s only nightclub had a special offer that night with cheap drinks, so we decided to go there, and set about preening ourselves. I dashed out to buy shampoo. The others disappeared into the showers. It was great. On the stairs down to the shower rooms there was a huge underwater mural and a tape constantly playing with wave sounds. I bought a huge box of grapefruit juice. We also met a New Zealand chap Ross, who seemed friendly enough, and later joined us in our little car (despite us already being completely packed in, but it all worked somehow). There were pool tables in this hostel too -two or them, which shows how spacious itwas. I suppose in Australia they might have room for that but it\u2019s very unusual over here. And a carom board, a funny thing from India with sliding tokens that is played a bit like pool. On the wall was a map showing where traveller\u2019s had come from -most from NZ, Australia and South Africa, Japan, and North America, a few from Europe. That was about all. One or two from Brazil and places like that.<\/p>\n
As soon as everyone was ready we went out. First to a roaring sweaty bar with lots of people and a – of all things spawned by the devil – karaoke machine. I believe Stuart and Ben gave it a whorl later on that night. Everyone got up to much mischief, Ben even scored, down on the wharf-front, in amongst the boats. But I wasn\u2019t around for any of that. I don\u2019t know but it was all a bit too loud and too much, all that ghastly singing and crowded bodies everyone shouting and those big mugs of the same old beer everyone drinks in London. So I wandered down in the dusk night to the rocks by the beach, covered with big black molluscs, the tide was out, and all the boats were balanced on their keels – it that the right word? those sticking-out bit\u2019s underneath – tilted over crazily on the sand and tied down with big chains and ropes. A few locals wandering to and fro with boxes of fish (I suppose). I just sat there for a long time and thought how nice it might be to be living in St Ives.<\/p>\n
A middle aged London man was in our hostel room, and in a very bad mood because he\u2019d just caught the 6 hour train down from London, where he owns a pub, to meet someone who hadn\u2019t turned up, so he had to go all the way back in the morning. He was missing his wife and kids, he said. But later he took a walk outside and it was such a nice night I\u2019m sure he felt better after that. In the morning, early, I walked down to the another beach which was at the back of the town. There are one or two other people about \u2013 a man running up and down, a life guard putting up red and yellow flags. The waves were more considerable than some of the other places we\u2019d been to, because this beach faces the open sea directly. I put my feet in and the water is freezing, as cold as really cold tap water from the cold tap. I don\u2019t know how anyone swims in it. It is a wide and sandy beach, perfect, with a few ripple marks exposed by the tide, and soft brown rocks at it\u2019s edge. Amy had described the beach at St Ives as looking like a chocolate chip cookie, and it was a bit like that I supposed. Amy always loved St Ives. Amy\u2019s this wonderful lady with twirly black hair and pixie sticks from New Zealand I sortof fell in love with once. This place has me thinking of dear old Aimster a bit. How nice it would be, I think, to have a little artists loft on the hillside overlooking the quay, and invite guests from all over the world to come and stay. I planned to do that once and might still do it.<\/p>\n
Anyway back to the story. How sad it was to leave St Ives. We had all had a wondrous time. Now we were driving east, back towards London, and although our meeting with that old town was still two days off, it loomed and darkened everything a bit.. the end of the adventure.. for me anyway. We had Ross in tow. Well not in tow really. We could have towed him, but he might have got run over by the cars behind us, or ratted about a bit by the swift movement of the road underneath him, he not having any wheels you see. So he sat in the back seat, between Nick and Stew, then Nick and me, then Ben and Stew. We had his enormous pack on our laps. It was great fun, pushing that car to the limit.. \u2018will we make it up that next steep hill?\u2019 we could only drive on and find out. We had an interesting selection of music from the radio, from all different time periods, mad Tchaikovsky, then some old jazz, then electronic stuff with fast beats, then a strange early Elton John song. We were all tired of my music you see. I was the only one who\u2019d brought tapes and we\u2019d listened to them all a hundred times. Avalanches was popular, though Ben was tired of it, as he said, he \u2018liked it the first three times\u2019.<\/p>\n
Anyway, we came to Newquay, and didn\u2019t really like it at first. It seemed a bit dingy. We drove along a tiny dirt road, I don\u2019t know how we got onto that dirt road, it just appeared under us, or Ben sniffed it out. We took a short walk in the city, and didn\u2019t like the look of it too much, though if we had not just come from St Ives we probably would have liked it more. It did have a magnificent beach though, and a strange house there built on a rocky promontory, and connected to the mainland only by a suspension bridge. Then as we walked along the sea-wall where they loaded fishing boats, we saw two seals swimming in the water and snuffling curiously at some girls in a tour boat. They had large cow-like eyes and intelligent faces (the seals). They were very big too, and after the boat left, just seemed to be happy drifting about in the water there. Not bad to be a seal at times like that.<\/p>\n
We continued up the Northern coast of Cornwall, and had a look at the village where Stuarts dad had come from. It was called .. gee I hope I remembered this right \u2018Rock\u2019 and we stopped in a very good little bakery and asked directions to the \u2018crossways\u2019 which turned out to be a single house, on the corner of shores lane; it was an nice old house, white, with a large simple garden and a high hedge surrounding it. The place where Stu\u2019s dad was born, if our directions were correct. It was all quite exciting at the time. Not far away was the sea, a large inlet. It was a nice area, and very quiet, full of locals no tourists.<\/p>\n
Tintagel castle was the fabled place of King Arthur\u2019s birth, although the evidence is less strong than that we had for Stu\u2019s dad\u2019s birthplace. The castle now is a ruin anyway, those ruins are not even as old as anything built in King Arthur\u2019s day. The fable is all mixed up and not to be trusted. However, Tintagel is well worth visiting, for the sea shore there is fabulous. High slaty grey cliffs and deep blue green water crashing about. We walked down to the castle with a great stream of other tourists and children, and were quite put off to find that we had to pay to get in. Craftily, we climbed around to the back entrance.. but there was a man sitting in a box selling tickets there too! Not perturbed, we considered climbing a huge cliff and fortification, but eventually decided just not to go in at all, and just see how they liked that. Actually I\u2019m glad we didn\u2019t (tho Stu and Ross folded and went in later I remember) go in because I found a lovely grassy knoll high above a little rocky cove, overlooking the sea and most of the ruins. Nick joined me, and it was a delicious moment, one of the best in the trip. Because it really is a magical spot, and it is easy to imagine such a character as King Arthur hanging about here. Strange gulls and sea birds circled about, and way down on the waves below a little pink fishing bobble was tossed by the green foaming sea and stranded on a rock. I wish I could capture it properly, alas it\u2019s nigh impossible! Anyway, you should see how late it is, I\u2019ve got to go to bed!<\/p>\n
We had to drop Ross off around here and driving madly about rocky roads I did another bit of damage to the car, a little rock got stuck in the brake shoes and made a fantastic squeaking sound, which followed us along the highway for quite some time until the rock fell out. We left Ross in a pretty village in a valley, then filled up the tank and gunned it to Bath. That is, put fuel in the car and drove very quickly on the freeway. I put Jimi Hendrix on again, very loud, though Stew and Ben slept through it somehow. We were all tired, but especially those chaps after their glorious partying all night. It was a pity to leave Cornwall, but we were driving so fast – gee that little car could fly sometimes – and soon we had left Devon too. It seemed like it was all over already. We changed drivers then, and Nick drove us along small roads winding us through the Mendips, misty limestone mountains in North Somerset, riddled with infinitesimal villages. We passed some beautiful misty lakes in the distance. As the dusk fell on us we came at last into Bath.<\/p>\n
Bath is such an elegant place. We were momentarily captured by a net of one way streets and went around in circles a few times. But with such nice buildings to look at everywhere it didn\u2019t too much. Eventually breaking a few rules, we found a car park and made our way to the hostel. Nick -\u201cWe’ve been grubs for the last week\u201d Ben -\u201cYeah, have had a good time though\u201d. Maja was waiting at the hostel. She looked very well, and promptly Nick disappeared. We had a swish meal in a cafe with an enormous high roof and murals and enormous glass windows, and have a look at the reflection of the bridge there on the water. It was our last night, and a good sit down meal was a lovely treat. Later on, Stew and I wander about the town, we spend a long time on the mostly quiet streets, some drunk teens, bums. We take a long amble up a marvellous elegant avenue, and lean on banisters overlooking dark empty gardens. Talking about work, parents, fast cars.. ending back at the hostel where we lean out a window overlooking a stony mews.<\/p>\n
The next morning, as we walk out to find a breakfast cafe, it starts raining suddenly and heavily. It\u2019s the first rain we\u2019ve had all week, except for drizzle on the moor. We all get soaked. Finding a little cafe, we order big sausagey breakfasts and see a newspaper headline about a big bomb in London. On the wall is an original newspaper article about the assassination of JFK. We decide to visit the Baths, and on the way we pass an art gallery with a huge Rhino made of chicken wire! He seems to be life size, and the colour and everything is just right. The baths themselves are in an enormous decorated fancy cavernous building with portraits of important people on the wall and marble columns and a very elegant restaurant with a grand piano and violins playing pride and prejudice music, and \u2018here there and everywhere\u2019(! sounds very good actually, floating about the echoing rooms). All the waiters are rushing about in very swish black and white. We don\u2019t go in to see the baths actually, though we can see some of them through a window. There is an interesting story behind these baths, how they were discovered and used by the Romans and everyone since them. Bubbles rise through the green steaming water, surrounded by sandstone alcoves and stairs and walks. It\u2019s great to be over here in this country, taking all this in, we try to absorb it all.<\/p>\n
End up in Gawd Damn Starbucks, waiting for Ben to come back from an impromptu haircut. Unfortunately he wasn\u2019t very happy with it, but it looks fine to us. We walk around a little more, but take to the road with Ben at the wheel when we realise how far there is to go. Again we become lost in one way streets funnelling us the wrong way. So we duck in to a bus lane and shoot the wrong way over a bridge. A little old lady leans up to our window as we wait at a traffic light and says \u201cYou\u2019re not supposed to drive up here\u201d but we shoot off \u201csorry..\u201d there\u2019s no time to loose but everyone wants to look at the \u2018circus\u2019 a Victorian (Georgian?) roundabout, a circle of delicious buildings with five plane trees in the middle. Ben drives us around and around, the we head up a laneway which takes us to an enormous lawn and curved front of royal buildings. It\u2019s a private lawn though so we flee off, bumping crazily on cobblestones, cursing the English and their crazy laws. We fly up a road overlooking the town, past beautiful buildings overgrown with wisteria and iron railings, then down an impossibly steep hill, then back up it, then suddenly on the highway and shooting out of town. Nick explaining to me his circular eating concept \u201cjust like how didgeridoo players breathe.. Mr Watt.. I\u2019ll teach you how to eat!\u201d .<\/p>\n
Somewhere on the way back to London we decide to divert to see some stone monoliths and wot not in the region of Avebury. \u201c It could be a mission..\u201d warns nick, but we attempt it anyway. We pass through Warminster which has the highest number of UFO sightings in Britain, (perhaps anywhere?) also an air force base, funnily enough. It was a bit dull and we spent enormous amounts of time walking to find a toilet. Then we shortly came to Stonehenge. Cold wind blowing the tiny flowers, blowing around the twisted humanoid forms, fallen and broken. God Damn! Too many people, Of course, but can\u2019t do nout about that I suppose. The worlds population is just too much. One tall stone had a tiny bit sticking up. I wonder why that was. Humans+time=Stonehenge I suppose. Maybe some aliens involved there too. Nick and Ben made me take the most foul photograph I hope I will ever have to take ever. Stu was waiting back at the car for us, and we went on, a little moved perhaps, but it\u2019s too busy there to really stop and think.<\/p>\n
One thing I was very keen to see in that area was Silbury hill, the largest dirt mound in Europe. Well, It sounded exciting to me. Anyway, I\u2019d seen a picture. No one knows who made it, there\u2019s not even anything interesting buried inside, or so excavations seem to have shown. I suppose it was the seeming purposelessness of the thing which attracted me to it, for I like the idea of a whole lot of people spending an enormous amount of time constructing something for no particular purpose. It\u2019s hard to explain why. I do expect, though, that they had a good enough idea of what they were doing it all for back then. Anyway, it was getting late already. We didn\u2019t really have time for any more expeditions, but I ran off across the cow paddock, throwing all sensibleness to the wind. It was windy. The cows looked at us all curiously. We assured Stu there were no bulls among them. Running up that slope really takes it out of you, but I was so glad to be at the top. It was all covered in long grass. There was a fence there too, closing off a bit where an old excavation has collapsed. From the top we could see some of those strange modern phenomena, crop circles. Unusual patterns pressed down in wheat fields, or this one was in a barley field. We ran down to investigate, jumping fences and crossing roads, though the sun was sinking low, pale behind clouds. The one we looked at was in the shape of a large triangle with spiralling trails of circles threading around it. It was very exciting for us, though I think these things are mostly made by some of the crazy new age druidic interesting folk who live in these parts. We took lots of photographs then ran back, scrawling messages on things with bits of native chalk we had picked up, to the car which was parked at Avebury, our very last stop. Avebury is a tiny village within a huge earthen wall and ditch, and there are many stones in circles and other arrangements there too. I found my favourite stone, possibly ever, or maybe it was just I was so dang tired and needed something to lean on right then. What a place to finish it all, to wrap up our adventures, a mystical unusual green ring with rumpled stones everywhere. I would have been happy to lay on the grass, by my stone forever.We might have made it back to London in time had we left then.<\/p>\n
However the barman said we could make it back to London in an hour and a half and we believed him. Possibly no one has ever driven back to London faster than we did, but it took us more than two hours. Two hours to central London anyway, maybe he meant the outskirts. Anyway, because he said this, and because we were all hungry, we were persuaded to have a meal. It was a nice meal, must be said. And a nice pud, very cosy with leather chairs and also a curiosity, a very deep well once used by the village. But we didn\u2019t digest our meal very well. \u2018Stonehenge\u2019 steak pies, soup, chicken and venison. We ate hurriedly, discussing the week, so full of events. Our favourites were Dartmoor, St Ives and Corfe castle. But it was all fabbo. Now we wonder if the car people will notice the bump, or the mess. The pretty waitress delays Ben very slightly, but we are very soon on our way. Jimi Hendrix playing again, the light is all gone, everyone jammed in, tired, nervous, sweaty. We stop for a pit stop in a service station on the highway. Nick superglues back together some things that are broken. We throw out all sorts of rubbish, and transfer bags to different places, fill up and are off again very quickly. It is very exciting coming into London. Huge signs pass us with all sorts of directions and hundreds of lanes diverging and going all over the place. Then the buildings surround us, and the city traffic and the fumes and the London smells and the thumping music in the night. We frantically try to call easyrentacar to tell them we\u2019re coming but all we can get is recorded messages in Spanish. Really! That\u2019s how useless they are. Anyway it becomes apparent at about Hammersmith that there is no way we\u2019re going to get there on time, and roadworks on Edgware road and Friday night traffic make that a certainty. Ben and Stew have been driving like demons though, unfortunately we think we may have been caught by a red light camera or two. How exciting it is! London again!London heavy beating throbbing London. Taxis and busses shuffle past us, late night partiers wander in among the traffic as we crawl through intersections. Then when we find the rent a car place and it really is closed, locked, chained. All quiet now, we drift through the streets to Holloway – Camden is buzzing – and notice how different London is to everywhere else. We drop off Maja in a dark street, Nick sees her to her door, then gallop up the hill to Highgate, setting off another speed camera unfortunately. When we finally empty the car into our flat we are exhausted, and actually in a state of \u2018financial shock\u2019 as Nick puts it. \u201clets ban talk of money\u201d. But we didn\u2019t crash, just drove fast. Nick plans to cancel his credit card, but in the end it is unnecessary.<\/p>\n
When we take the car back in the morning the chap gives it only a cursory glance, and although there are late fees to pay it all splits up into a palatable amount for each of us. So we\u2019re back. We make separate ways after leaving the car at the depot. I\u2019m wearing my beret, why is that? Early morning London so strange and glum, but tense, like a party could erupt at any moment, or a bomb. But thinking of St Ives brings a sort of twinge to my heart. It all seems so free and happy and well out there.<\/p>\n
What a trip! We looked at photos tonight, some of them are very good, it brings it back.. but off we go on separate ways anyhow. Well what a good time we had.<\/p>\n
There you are chaps, I\u2019ve exhausted myself. I really wrote this because I wanted to try my hand at writing something longish.. a Keroac style crazy adventure, a road trip, with four great mad chaps, and a mad lady too for one day. I know it\u2019s a bit rough and wrong and self involved and all that.. tell me if I\u2019ve really mussed something up though, or left something important out. For instance, what happened on that crazy night at saint Ives? I never saw.<\/p>\n
Good Lawd. To bed!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It started with another stinky tube ride. Everyone was loaded up with bags, sleepy and mongy, we caught the nasty-o northern line, half empty that Saturday morning. Stew and Nick had big Aussie backpacks and assorted other bits. I\u2019d packed the previous night whilst half asleep and decided that I didn\u2019t really need anything to … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2355,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20,43,41,36],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2349","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drunken","category-london","category-memoir","category-travel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2349","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2349"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2349\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2356,"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2349\/revisions\/2356"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2355"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2349"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2349"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.forkword.com\/plog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2349"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}