THG is at the controls of the Silver Bullet and we are homeward bound. Driving through the rain in the hope of clearer skies ahead.
Yesterday before setting off on our Sutton Hoo adventure I partook of a “full Suffolk”. Someone must franchise the cooked breakfast concept. Full English, full Welsh, full Lincolnshire etc. Probs makes good licensing dollar 🙂. This morning the family celebrations of last night weighed heavily and I stuck with a simple bacon sandwich. Really the king of breakfasts.
On the way down to Woodbridge we took the scenic route. Today it is A roads all the way. Around thirty miles longer but thirty minutes quicker. In our busy twenty first century lives it is all about time. At least dual carriageways make for better typing conditions. Fewer roundabouts around which to fling the car, fewer gear changes to knock the typing elbow.
I can recommend Seckford Hall. It was Hannah’s actual birthday last night and the staff really looked after us. Particularly the restaurant manager Mike contributed greatly to the success of the evening. Each time Hannah blew out the cake candles Mike relit them and we went through the process again singing Happy Birthday three times in all including a jazzy version for the last go.
Hugs hugged and goodbyes kissed we are now negotiating the spray on the northbound A14. Flooded fields. Riverbanks broken.
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The Great North Road. Totally unrecognisable from the time when it was being called that. There is no romance in the name A1, great arterial highway that it is. Sterile. No room for the imagination to run wild.
Another new vicar starting at THG’s church this morning. Dearly beloved bretheren… I say ‘another’ new vicar but don’t get the wrong idea. They don’t have that high a turnover, I think. That would be a worry indeed. I did ask THG whether vicar’s wives were vetted for tea and cake making skills before being offered the job but she didn’t give me a straight answer. Dismissive even!
I am in any case too far removed from the operational practices of the church to be up to date with its recruitment policies. There must be more to it than finding out which candidate can say how’s your father. Not for me to comment and I move on…
Passing RAF Wittering and its iconic Harrier jump jet we saw a dead red deer. A stag. Fifty metres further on a woman had stopped her car and was examining the front for damage.The action had just happened. Bit of a shock for both parties. More so for the deer. Another snapshot in life on planet earth. Life goes on.
We leave the deer and the woman behind and the Silver Bullet continues its journey north, still searching for those clearer skies.
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Stopped at Pennells Garden Centre on the way home to buy a rose. THG nipped in and I sat in the car watching the rain on the windscreen. V relaxing. Could almost feel meself nodding off. Then popped to the Carlton Centre to get my postal vote off. They have three collections a day from the Post Office there.