I walked to the centre of the town and see a sign for 'taxis'. so, I follow it to a crossroad in the pedestrianised main part of town. A sign pointed down a street, and another down an alleyway to almost back where I had begun. I saw bis stops, but no taxi rank. I try to flag several down, but none stop. An ancient Mercedes taxi sat on the other side of the street, but nowhere did it say taxi rank.
I try to flag one last taxi down, and he tells me to go see the Merc driver, by this time the driver had worked out I wanted a cab and so moved up towards me. I throw my bags in the back seat and climb in, and we lurch off.
It dropped me off at would be best to describe as a small castle; a château maybe. The Abbey Hotel is set in the grounds of Furness Abbey, and the main part of the hotel is rather wonderful; all wood panelling and fine art. So I walked in dragging my small case and wearing my steel toe-capped boots. A little out of place.
I checked in and was shown to my room; no four-poster, but a room with fine views down to the abbey. I take out my laptop and try to log onto the internet.
And that's when the fun really began. I could get the hotel network, but local only; no internet. I try and try again. I call reception; the lady who answered didn't know. 'It should just work' she said rather unhelpfully.
I worked offline as much as I could. A long time later, the internet was available, and so all I had to do was log onto the VPN network and all would be peachy. Only, no e mails were coming in. I waited and waited.
The taxi driver had told me about a good real ale pub nearby, so I thought I would seek it out. Having no smart phone now, I checked a map online and thought I knew the route. But as I discovered that is very well as long as you set off from the point you thought was the same as the one on the map. Turns out I was about a half mile out.
Instead of the pub I found a hospital. A large hospital. In truth, it wasn't really lost. Beside it was a modern housing estate; no ancient real ale pub there. It was cold, very cold. So I walked back to the hotel, ordered a beer and looked at the menu.
And so ended another day in the go-ahead world of Quality. Next day dawned cold and cloudy. As we had a nine thirty start, once awake I laid in bed for nearly two hours watching it get light outside and listening to Radio 4. This is why we went through punk in '76?
anyway, I went down for breakfast only to find the staff moving furniture round me as I sit down; is this the wrong time? I have salmon and scrambled eggs and leave sharpish before my chair is moved, with me on it, outside.
Graeme picked me up at nine and we braved the one way system in the town centre. Twice. As a wrong turn means going all the way round again.
So, we arrive; do the audit and then talk turns to snow. The opinion is Graeme and I should leave that afternoon to avoid snowmageddon which is being forecast for Friday.
Graeme takes me to the hotel, I throw my things in the case and after checking out he drops me off at the station, and at half one I'm rattle back to the mainland.
and so, getting off at Lancaster, changing onto a southbound train to Euston. A walk along Euston Road, a bit of a wait for the Dover train to arrive then scramble for a seat, and then into the darkness and on to home. I was back home by ten to eight, and sitting down with Jools for scotch eggs and salad and a huge cuppa.
Tomorrow is snow day; it had better as I missed out on Tandoori rump of lamb to go home.
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