That was the last day of the trip. As I write, the train home is making its way out of a rain-sodden Plymouth on its way to a rain-sodden London
Well at least the speed of the train is no longer a surprise. I’ve got used to that now. And, slowly but surely all the other things I like doing on my travels – seeing interesting sights and understanding their stories, writing about it, travel itself – I’m getting back to as well. And you also get used to the face covering and just get on with it. The current moment is all about accommodation, making normality out of abnormality, hoping for the best while helping out by doing the right things.
Soon I’ll be back to my old life in an abnormal moment. It’s impossible to say where we’ll all be in the autumn, let alone the winter, let alone next year. So I’m not going to predict where I’ll be going next, or when, or even if.
But I’ll end with this; would I consider a longer trip through this fascinating, beautiful, infuriating, rain-sodden island? Yes. Because it is fascinating, beautiful, infuriating and rain-sodden. And it has one advantage over all the other wonderful places I’ve been lucky enough to see.
It’s home. And there’s no place like home.
orwellianTwo 