Hiding

I awoke at five, and six, and seven... every time the clock struck the hour! Finally we all got up from our camp beds, and had breakfast, then Kate and I took some old bikes and cycled to Fairford to buy some more coffee. I haven't been out on bikes on a public road for years (because Stroud is hilly and the roads are busy) so it was great to practise gear-changing on quiet back roads. It was so quiet, in fact, that we could cycle and chat at the same time!

Arriving back at Fi's house, I found that CleanSteve had arrived and been pressed into round 3 of the Sofa Bed Challenge. We left shortly after a phone call to the vendor had established that the sofa bed was truly buggered, and set off across country to Winchcombe, where we'd arranged to meet blipper HerbSusan and her husband John for lunch.

It was the same place where I'd been for lunch last week on my group walk, and we were late because of an appallingly slow car in front of us, but we managed a leisurely pub meal. The sun came out and the wind died, so we headed off up the road for Toddington and the GWR: not the Great Western Railway, but the Gloucestershire and Warwickshire railway, a 12-mile stretch of restored railway that runs between Cheltenham Racecourse and Laverton, with plans to extend it eventually to Broadway. There are steam and diesel engines running, and passenger trains. Toddington is where the sheds are, as well as other vintage railway facilities. The sun was very bright, and the engines were shunting back and forth, and Steve and John were in steam-railway heaven, so HerbSusan and I wandered off to the coffee shop. I noticed this dinky vehicle trying to disguise itself among the silver birches. Later, we sampled the ice cream but found it not as good as the van. HerbSusan, who lent us her caravan in Cornwall recently. says she is thinking of compiling an ice cream chart for visitors to Polzeath, to compare and contrast the local brands and flavours on offer locally. I told her I'd be willing to put myself out to take part in the research!

It reminded me of a conversation I'd had earlier with my sister Kate, in which we recalled how one of our rented houses when we were children had had clan names (the Scottish clans that were loyal to the Jacobite cause in the '45 rebellion) above some of the doors. I'd decided that if I was to give my rooms in the current house names, they'd have to be called after biscuits! Lemon Puffs, Cafe Noir, Pink Wafer....

We finally left the railway as they were pulling the shutters down in the cafe, and tipping coal into the engine with a digger, rather than a shovel. We vowed to meet again. A good time had been had by all.