Travelling around the country

I'm well into silly season now, and have been wandering around the country. Last Thursday week was a flying visit to Saffron Walden, to which my Australian friend responded with 'what's a Saffron Walden?"

Scariness on the way up with a truck driver in front who had clearly fallen asleep. I say this because the dual carriageway veered gently round to the right, while he continued straight ahead. One wheel dangled over the edge of the parallel dyke before he woke up, and with spectacular pirouette across both lanes, brought his vehicle back under control.

I was  to spend the dayat The Nucleus, and upon arrival at the Chesterford Research Park, a very nice man at the gate asked me my surname. I gave it, and he looked intently at a clipboard before tentatively enquiring as to whether I might have a first name. I replied that no, I was born in the same factory as Sting, Madonna, Voltaire and Jordan and they only give us one name there. 

Last Monday and Tuesday I was over in Worcester, in the very lovely old Elms spa hotel in Abberley. It was a nice spa, but the most awesome thing was an experience shower. It had a few settings, but the best was the combined, which started with a torso shower, warm, accompanied by sage scent and birdsong. This lovely moment of tranquility was broken by a clap of thunder, a deluge of warm rain and lightning. A waft of menthol accompanied the storm fading into a light cold mist, then the reintroduction of the  torso shower and birdsong.

Butley Priory and me.

On Friday and Saturday I was in Woodbridge, Suffolk for a friend's wedding. She is very demanding and meticulous in her organisation, so much so, that the weather gnomes were too scared to give her anything other than the most glorious weather possible, even though it was the last day of September.

River Deben.

We stayed in a marvellous little B&B just outside Woodbridge with a good sized garden which we had lunch in. It's only fault was the exit straight on to a dual cariageway which pretty much meant selecting a gap, closing ones eyes, stomping on the gas and hoping for the best.

The wedding was in Butley Church, with a wonderful priest who sounded a lot like Peter Cook in the Princess Bride. The reception was in Butley Priory, which is in fact the the Gatehouse to the old Priory that Henry VIII had obliterated.

Woodbridge.

The wedding went splendidly and the expected hangover did not materialise - it might have thought about it, but a full English breakfast quickly made it think twice.

Saturday morning was spent mooching around Woodbridge and admiring the River Deben - despite the fact that it was mostly mud as the tide was out. The tide started rolling in over lunch, and then it was time to head home.

This week I'm in the office all week which will be a nice break.