After a long, uncomfortable, sleepless flight from Singapore, in which we were served endless cups of water and juice and not left to sleep for any more than twenty minutes, I finally touched down at 6am.
Getting out was horrendous. You go through endless corridors, some with travelators, soe without, until you get to passport control. And then line up for ages to have your passport stamped. Strangely enough, I got through passport control remarkably quickly. They didn’t even check to see that I’m leaving. They also didn’t check my luggage. But whatever time I gained, I lost it by not recognising my bag on the carousel and had to wait a while for it to come back around.
The bus to Hemel was uneventful. Couldn’t see anything for the hedges. But I did notice that there’s more Minis and VWs here than there are back home. Guess that makes a lot of sense.
I was picked up at the bus station by Bill, and we drove to Leighton Buzzard. It’s a smallish town, but hold some pretty ancient buildings – th church dates back to the 1100s and its stonework has graffiti from the 14th Century (something to do with semolina bread). Amazing.
We had lunch in the pub opposite. I figured that seeing as I’m in England I might as well eat like them, so had egg, bacon and fried bread with a few pints of bitter. It wasn’t bad.
I was fairly tired that night, as I’d only had about four hours sleep over two days. After hitting another pub (one of Bill’s regulars) I crashed. But only after writing all of this down. So that’s probably why there’s a few plot holes.