Sunday and my travels begin...

So my adventures begin when I follow a normally sedate uncle David driving like Stirling Moss and sporting a flat cap in a car which when I asked what it was (for identification purposes ) was told merely that it was silver - I guess that narrows it down then! We race through the centre of Reading and past the Madejski Stadium out towards the massive roundabout where I can pick up a road I recognise - this was a challenge because uncle David clearly knew his way and I did not!

Thankfully at the big roundabout I encounter familiar road signs from my days when I traveled for work - I wonder what all those early morning starts for meetings in Twyford were for as the company no longer exists, the software we used is now redundant and our whole IT department was replaced by outsourcing - I didn't seem to leave my mark even after 20 years hard slog.

It is so green as I tootle along in my rollerskate on wheels travelling along the M3 and A303 and extraordinary landmarks like Stonehenge looking magnificent in the early morning sunshine.  I am warming to said rollerskate as the needle on the petrol gauge barely moves.

It all becomes much more familiar as I approach the Podimore roundabout and shortly after arrive at Jane and John's where mum is, thankfully, safe and sound and eating breakfast seemingly none the worse for her very late arrival and limited sleep.  I still feel so guilty about my monumental cock-up but salve my conscience everso slightly by remembering the hassle of getting from North Terminal to South Terminal - Mum would have hated it - and then I remember we will need to do the return South to North bit when we go home.

I take Mum to Aunty Janet's where she is to stay for the remainder of her visit to Keinton Mandeville and where we have lunch before I set off for Sally and Tommy in deepest darkest Dorset.   Fortunately Tommy rescues me from our rendezvous spot - the car park of the most cleverly disguised Macky D's (MacDonalds) I have seen and I had managed to passed by twice thinking it was a cottage albeit with a lot of cars outside!

I follow Tommy and daughter Molls through some of the most achingly beautiful scenery you could ever see - this is truly England's green and pleasant land and I absolutely understand why Sally was so keen to bring the kids, Freddy and Molly up in such a rural idyll.

The kids have grown up so much in the 7 years since I saw them - Freddie is just a mini Tom but Molls is unrecognisable from the stoic 'chewing a wasp' Buddha baby we knew - she is now a tall slim young woman wise beyond her years and, bless her, she settles me down and she serves me little tapas snacks out in the garden of their home which is truly in the middle of nowhere.  Sally is finishing up on a catering job nearby.

Tom and I go off to pick up Sally and on the way home we take the scenic rout home via a posh establishment overlooking Chesil beach called The Seaside Boarding House at Burton Bradstock and which is right next door to Billy Bragg's house - Sal and I catch up over a cocktail and I soak up the view and the sunshine - the sunshine is very welcome and was unexpected - I had not packed for such elevated temperatures.

On returning home I present Sal with her paintings which she loves and they are given pride of place on the bookshelf.   As Tom makes a valiant attempt at cutting the grass Sal and I shoot the breeze over some more nibbles and prosecco before we have a befuddled joint cook making fish pie for supper.  It is chaotic and convivial and I realise how much I have missed them.  Old photographs come out over supper and old stories of times well spent both before children and after.  It is gone 11 when we finish and crawl off to bed.  I have to thank Molly for giving up her room - I slept well even though there were no curtains.