Day 14: Thursday 16th July 2015

Thursday

I woke up at some point in the night with terrible indigestion. I mention this gastric fact because, as I sat in the vinyl chair, sweating gently, I thought, you know, we have been away 13 nights, why don’t we just drive straight home in the morning?

We were booked into a hotel in Ely for the next night, as I wanted to snap the cathedral, and there was a bead shop nearby, so why not do both and stay in the area?

I did go back to bed and slept until half seven, and I mentioned the idea of going straight home to Jools, and she agreed. Strongly. It would save us the hotel, a night of eating out, a day’s extra car insurance and so on. So, we would still go to Ely but drive home in the evening.

That agreed, we packed and loaded the car. Needing to fill the car up, we find that the petrol station also had a Greggs in it, so along with paying for the petrol, I also got two bacon and sausage baps and a couple of coffee. Worked well.

We drove off onto the A1 only to find it at a standstill: we drove back off at the next junction. Jools worked out a route to get us to the M180, on which we could then head south and home. Maybe.

We drove on near-empty roads through a flat landscape while munching on our breakfast. On the motorway, we made good time, whilst the car radio played out Radio 6. Life was still good even though the holibobs were nearly over. But then we would be home that night, and see the cats in the morning!

Onto the A1, and we thundered south, eating more miles. We pass through Newark and so into Lincolnshire, still heading south. Into Cambridgeshire, and it was time to leave the wide open road and take to the twisty roads crossing the fens. By now I had decided not to go to Ely at all, and we would just call in at the bead shop, then resume our trip south.

We pass through more wonderful looking villages with fabulous churches: why don’t we stop asks Jools. If we stop at one, we have to stop at them all I answer. Hope that makes sense.

We stop in Haddenham. Haddenham is how most people pronounce my surname, and is one of the most popular mis-spellings of it. So, it kind of felt like home, and quite odd seeoing the name platered everywhere: Haddenham Garage, Haddenham Library, Haddenham Art Centre, and so on.

Jools goes to the bead shop, and I go to the church, but find the south door closed: this is the one the main path leads to. Apparently I should have gone to the north side, but how was I to know? I gave up and wandered round the village, going to the art centre. It was fabulous, and I even bought a salad bowl, made in Afghanistan. Or somewhere.

Jools comes out of the shop, and the sat nav says it is two hours and forty minutes to St Maggies. Seemed optimistic.

However, the roads were very quiet, down the A14 to the M11, then rattle down to Stanstead. We still were motoring along, the music on the radio was good, and we were in Essex, one county away from home.

We drive onto the M25, still making good time. His was all too good. Even at the Dartford crossing, we barely slowed down and were back in Kent. Hurrah.

Now, at this point, I should point out there was a slight diversion, and it will come as no surprise to learn that the reason for the diversion were orchids. We are now getting close to the end of the orchid season so these little spike, Green Flowered Helleborines, found at just one unlikely site in Kent, was just off the main road home.

So, we thought we could remember where we saw them last year, and so set off in hope. We did find them, growing beside a main road. As they do. Just here and nowhere else.

So, I get the camera out, lay in the gutter to get my shots. I could have taken more, but these small orchids hardly ever open, I had the shots; lets find lunch.

We go to the nearby over-picturesque village to find the pub by the ford packed out. Probably rubbish with it we both say. A little further up the main road we find a nice place which had tables and good food. We both order ploughman’s, and then have to endure a party of four young women who lunch, babble about clothes, shopping and oral sex in loud voices as their fizzy pink wine took effect.

They did leave, and our food arrived: and it was good.

That done, we just had the task of getting home. Since we had been gone, the problems with the ferries had not gotten any better, and indeed the motorway was closed again for operation stack, which meant having to cross up to the A2, then mixing it with the early rush hour traffic, as well as the lorries, car and buses heading for Dover. It was all crazy.

But, we arrived at the sign for Whitfield, then along the dual carriageway past Tesco to the Duke of York roundabout, turn left onto the Deal road. Right to St Maggies, left onto Station Road, and there we are: home.

We sigh in relief.

The car is unloaded, and when we are inside, we see a pile of mail on the dining room table. But, first, lets have a brew!

The kettle is boiled, cases unpacked, washing put in the machine and the wash begun. Outside, the garden has exploded, even without father-in-law’s lack of watering. We have apples nearly ready for picking. And raspberries reading for eating already.

We sit outside sipping our drinks. It was quiet without the cats, but that would change in the morning for sure. But for now, we continued to get stuff done, and then begin the photo-editing and posting. As you do.