Sunday 19th September 2021

Our 13th wedding anniversary,

. And to celebrate I was going away.

Me. Just me.

Its the way it goes.

Jools had been away three times and I had long been yearning for a trip to Cambridge. I have driven past it more times that I care to remember going back and forth from home and whatever posting the RAF had decided to inflict on me. I had not been there since I was seven, when my grandparents took me on a free tour of the East Anglian railway network on Granddad's priv.

We did make it to Cambridge, and all I remember was walking to a restaurant in a basement where I had sausage and chips as I did each of the six other days travelling. I knew what I liked, and it was sausage-shaped.

Anyway, before then there was other stuff to do.

Like get up. Have breakfast.

And make some bread for lunch. So I rustle up a batch of sourdough and set that to rise as we went walking looking for butterflies, as it was a very fine and still day. We spoke to Di over the road, she is very down as her home was burgled a few weeks back and all the jewellery Bob had bought her has been stolen with no hope of getting it back.

Urgh.

We walk along the street, then up to Collingwood, then down the first track on the left to Windy Ridge. Not much about, other than Speckled Woods again, though got excited by two orange butterflies going by, though turned out to be Commas not QoS.

We amble back, but already the day was getting away from me, i had travelling to do. So I put the bread into bake, prepare the tomatoes and cheese for Caprese, and once the bread was baked and a little cooler, we eat whilst listening to Desert Island Discs.

I pack.

And it was time to leave, so I load my stuff in the car and Jools drives me to Ashford, because of engineering works, and anything is better than the rail replacement bus.

She drops me off, and I get my ticket, and up on the platofrm there is seven minutes before the next train to that London. When it arrives, I even get a seat, but on the other side from the one I like, but still, back on a high speed train whizzing through and under Kent.

Instead of walking from St Pancras to Kings Cross for the second train, because of more engineering, I had to get off at Stratford, then go two stops to Tottenham Hale before picking up a Cambridge service from there.

Which all would have been fine if Spurs had not been at home, against Chelsea.

The first train was full of Spurs fans, I got on early and so got a seat, but pissheads got on and were larking about. There were no masks being worn here. Just singing.

I got off with the Spurs fans to wait for the last train, they walked to the ground, but the next station was best for visiting fans, so the next train was rammed with Chelsea fans. All pissed. And singing loudly, banging on seats, the roof, each other. No masks worn here either.

I wore mine.

But when we stopped at the next station, they all got off and I was able to get a seat.

The north London suburbs glided by, we entered the countryside. We stopped a few times. I wondered how the town "Ware" got its name, but not for long. We turned north.

Cambridge was a bit busy, and I had to climb the bridge to the exit, then wait in line for a taxi. In time one came and he took me through a maze of one way streets, round the city centre and along the river to my hotel.

A tenner.

I checked in, and walked to my third floor room, logged on to watch the second half of the Spurs v Chelsea game, though the connection was slow and picture quality was variable to say the least. Chelsea won 3-0, and I can only imagine the nose on the trains back into central London.

Here in Cambridge the threatened rain arrived. I would have gone for a walk to get dinner, but I wasn't really hungry, si I worked on editing whilst listening to the rain falling and the traffic cruising by.

In the morning, many wonderful things, I hoped.