Putting the hell in Hem(h)ell Hempstead

I'd never been to Hemel Hempstead before - and I almost never left it. This world-renowned roundabout has to be one of the most confusing I have ever seen (and I lived in New Zealand where urban planners hold competitions to raise their planning confusion skills to untold heights).

At first I thought it was a Star of David, and I thought "ooh, edgy, that won't please Tommy Robinson much" - but in fact it is a roundabout surrounded by six other roundabouts. It is the nexus of traffic hell. 

Seriously, as we navigated it, I had my window down and was chatting to an old man on a pushbike. He said he'd been out shopping for milk since 2014. He was trying to get back to Bovington (and its legendary market) but kept on having to stop and turn left. 

So Mrs Evans, if you are reading this, Huw is well - but the milk has gone off. Can you come down and pick him up in the Land Rover please?

We got the excellent National Express coach to Gatwick and flew back to Barcelona, thence to Castelldefels and the seaside.