I had expected to spend today/monday lying in the tent reading and have brought "Scottish Kings" by Gordon Donaldson for this purpose. Had the site not cleared with unprecedented speed I would doubtless have been driving along the A303 with a firm grasp of the circumstances of my royal heritage.
We decide to get something to eat at the Countess service area.
So. Finally: consummation. The Little Chef meal.
There is, however, a problem.
Fortunately Telephone Girl decides that we will accept the suggestion of four places that are at the bar, waiting for us. It has that level of finality too, just like those bar places waiting in "Ice Cold in Alex". Except, of course, all that Chimmie is bibbing is carbonated mineral water - you don't expect a future monarch of the realm to be had up on a drunk driving charge do you, you complete utter fool?
But still, let me raise my glass. Permit me to contemplate the bubbling surface that grows to fill the most of my vision, like a picture of heaven.
I glance round at the smiling faces of the Dove, Maiden and TG. Almost involuntarily I mutter: "Get some oats in your carriage!"