I can now confirm that steamed syrup sponge pud late evening, isn’t a very good recipe for sleeping. A rather uncomfortable night, but would I have changed the evening before? No way!
We rose a little later than planned, and headed off east, to hit the A1 south. Very busy, but no hold ups. We dived into a ‘Little Chef’ diner for a bite to eat. How times have changed - yet again. Years ago, this would have been a bustling stop on the nation’s second busiest South/North road. I think we were the only customers when we arrived and just one other when we left. I thought Heston Blumenthal poked his nose into the Little Chef system a year or two back, but obviously he made no real impression.
I managed with a sausage sandwich which was a bit basic and the coffee was passable, but I’m sure that many places in the UK now offer a far better breakfast experience. We arrived at Mepal in Cambridgeshire about 12 noon, so we possibly delayed lunch for Fiona and Geoff, but so nice to catch up with them again – and Kiwi the dog! I think they appreciated the block of Whittaker’s hazelnut chocolate. Fiona was at school with Paula and doesn’t seem to have changed at all, other than a slight change of hair colour – the same can be said of Paula.
On then to my ex-Prison Service workmate, Rob, and his wheelchair bound wife, Jill. Rob has now spent 12 years as a local councillor, with spells as Mayor and also Deputy Mayor, of Downham Market. I think it was him that told us that the EU’s books had never been audited. Says a lot more about Britain’s decision to vote for Brexit…
We left late afternoon and headed back, but we spied an eatery called ‘Finleys’, and the signage was a bit misleading, as we saw a purple ‘Premier’ sign on the filling station and wrongly assumed it was part of a Premier Inn.
We were the only customers (yes, again) as it was quite early. The owner was quite chatty, having an interest in motorsport, and our plates came well and truly loaded, so there was no room for another traditional British pudding, jam roly-poly. (A few nostalgic moments on this trip.) A very nice meal and Paula didn’t manage to clear her plate.
Back at the Park Inn, after a good run back to Nottingham, I was still in hectic but fruitless email correspondence with the booking company, Agoda, about changing our Bournemouth booking. They kept sending me links to their booking system and every time I clicked on the link, it said it had expired. This was getting very frustrating and I was concerned that we might arrive in Bournemouth a day early, with no bed. I’m also not sure whether or not they charged me fur May 27th, the date to which the system defaulted. There may be another flurry of correspondence when I get the credit card statement. They wouldn’t accept a credit card payment via email and they said they’d tried to ring us – but they only had our NZ home number. Despite several emails telling them we were overseas and no mobile, they kept trying to ring NZ.
Whilst at the Park Inn, internet still seemed to be restricted, so I couldn’t publish the blog. (Deep sighs of relief from some quarters.)
Only one more day in Nottingham before we head south and Paula gets a dance lesson with Simon.
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