Doing It; all over again.

It feels like we've left a hundred times, or, is that we just keep coming back.

Either way, today, it was time to chug it out of town, again.

This time last week, it felt like everything imaginable was telling us it wasn't going to happen, and it almost never did. And Manchester looks it's most handsome when the weak late summer sun casts it's diverging rays onto the rows of huddled red bricks and the leaves in the park have begun stirring with their immature rustlings of a new season beginning, of course enabling the departure to arrive at an appropriate level of, um, are-we-doing-the-right-thing...

Once flooding the highway with our enormous square shadow, however, we were firmly enthralled with the concept of another adventure, and so suitably prepared for hours on the road with a ferociously brilliant collection of compilation CDS that we'd been given from some nearest + dearest. Our spines trembled with love for everyone we weren't going to see for a long time, but deeply happy to be bringing a little bit of them along with us. What great sounds, guys who made 'em for us; absolutely priceless.

The day drew in + Cheeques had demanded a number hours of concentrated chugging, so we kipped over at the most depressing service station in Maidstone, who charged us a bleeding tenner just for stopping there for a few hours - pah - to the tight English system. Anyway, we got to experience what sort of vibe the 24 hour Maccy D's + Costa has when we waddled through to try + make our tenners worth of the WCs, so no point complaining.

Far too excited to sleep, completely zoomped up on caffeine and eavesdropping too much on the late night truckers who were congregating around the wicked fast food chains made for a right shoddy lack of dreams, but it right didn't matter - we were going to France tomorrow!