Homeward bound and its a nice day!

Sunday 20th October

Fairy-feet next door was up bright and early. It never ceases to amaze me just how many times someone has to walk back and fore in such a short space of time?!
So I was awake. With the same routine as yesterday, tea, podcasts and then shower and dressed, I added the other layer of final packing.
Yes, it wasn't raining, the sun was just about out through white clouds and it looked as though I would have a much better journey back than I had had coming down.
What a relief.
Paul and I had breakfast together and chatted over our tea. It was great to catch up. We've known each other since our twenties and much has happened to both of us in that time. We have been really close, rowed, fallen out and not spoken for years, married, divorced, gone away and licked our wounds, only to finally find a new friendship in our later years. Its nice and although we still don't agree on everything, we have a new respect for each other, neither of us were really capable of finding in our selfish youth.
Paul went back to his room and got everything sorted to leave as I did mine. 
I waved a final goodbye and got into my car, set up the SATNAV and set off for the return journey.
M25 here I come!!

It had been a nice long-weekend, sadly marred by the sound system at the Ball, but you can't have everything can you and I had seen much more this time than I have in the past. 
I got to Street and to Wells. I understood my need to move on from Glastonbury and the surrounding area; I've visited it all now and want to explore new areas.


Have bus pass, will travel....that's me, always looking round the next corner or up the next side street, after all, you never know what you'll see....
 

Meeting up with Paul and a Faery Ball

Saturday 19th October

So, today is the Faery Ball and this year is its an anniversary, so the theme is something to do with Lights. 
Mm, sorry folks but as pretty much everything I possess is far too big for me and I haven't got round to replacing it all with stuff which is smaller (sic, and I really do dislike shopping for clothes), its a case of what I've got is what you'll get.
Anyway, I'm jumping ahead as normal.
I opened my eyes at about 06:45 because fairy-feet next door had obviously got up and gone to the loo, I presume. 
So tea time and listen to the latest podcasts from Westminster and the Trump impeachment saga, then shower, dress and out for a walk up to get some breakfast.
Same as yesterday although I sidestepped the long circular route! 😏 I'd learnt my lesson and really didn't think I could cope with another round-robin tour, however interesting it had been.
It wasn't raining! every now and then the sun appeared between clouds which warned of impending doom at any moment, but that held off and the walk into town was pleasant.

On my way round to Morrisons I spied this Mini. I smiled and thought back to my old girl. Not red, but undercoat grey, she sported various hand painted bits and pieces as well as an aluminium plate on the drivers door sporting the important phrase;

THIS IS NOT DRINKING WATER

The car was well known in the area and strangely, never got stolen. It may have had something to do with the dragon's head on the bonnet, ZZ Top stripes down the sides and copies of their car and rocket on each rear door? Not sure, but it turned heads. Grinning, I carried on walking, my stomach was growling and I really needed food.
Breakfast came and went and so did I back into town to have a look in a few shops (book shops to be honest) whilst I waited for Paul to get here. I had little idea when he would arrive and sent it up into the ether for him to send me a text.
Within ten minutes one came through, he'd be there for about 2pm, so having exhausted the book shops and having had a really nice cup of coffee, I headed back to the hotel. I was bored with Glastonbury, it was getting chilly, I wanted a cardigan and to be honest and a sit down. I was still weary from yesterday.
We met at the hotel went back into town and went to the Faery Fayre in the town hall. It was good to have a look about and we were lucky enough to catch Brian Frome (of Dark Crystal fame) on his own and have a good old chat with him.
We looked at most things and were almost on our way out when Paul spotted two of his old mates from years ago.
Needless to say we got chatting and as they too were going to the ball later agreed to meet up. They had also decided to go as they were....made me feel happier.

 
The hall filled up with faeries and pixies and pirates and refugees from various times throughout history. I even noticed a Wilma and Fred Flinstone, so anything went I think.
Sadly, the man on sound really did have a problem, which I would say was akin to acute deafness!
It was like a blind painter doing your windows, somewhat pointless and very much over the top.
It started and I suspect the whole of the foundations of the buildings on that side of the High Street were given exercise. My ears hurt and my feet vibrated with over modulation. I looked at his curve for the sound....all pretty much at maximum.....its not that big a hall!
The first group to come on were really good, but you needed your fingers in your ears to hear them. No idea what they were called, I couldn't make out what the King and Queen were saying.
Sadly, the evening continued in this vein, with people coming on, over modulation making everything impossible and then the lights went on!!

At about 22:40, the house lights went up as a fireman strode through the centre towards the stage......the fog machine had set off the fire alarms and because it was just too loud, no one heard it.
Now, from a Health and Safety perspective, isn't that rather dangerous??
We filed outside. It was bloody cold but at least we could hear ourselves think. Many left at this point, valuing what hearing they had remaining, the diehards waited, slowly turning light shades of white, red and blue, and that wasn't the lights they were festooned with either.
We stood outside for a while and continued to have a chat with the couple we'd met early. They'd had enough and were off to find a pub. We heard the final band strike up again. The sound was better out here than anywhere else. If it had been warmer it was a good place to stand, but is was far too cold, we wandered back in, stood for a few minutes and surveyed the small handful who remained.

Neither Paul nor I were that interested in our ears being assailed any further and we both needed to sit down, so we left and sat in the foyer where we chatted for about half an hour. Time to go. We went back to the car and drove back to the hotel. It was time for tea and bed.
For me it was tea, bed, podcasts and attempting to unwhine my ears enough to get some sleep. It was a bad one, not falling to sleep until well gone 1am.
I was going to be very tired in the morning and had that journey home to face.
 

Wet and a bus ride to Wells

Friday 18th October

Waking this morning, one of the first things I did was to look at the weather. Mm, Met Office says cool with the possibility of showers...... more like very cold showers containing shards of sleet only just defrosting from ice. It stung the face and turned my nose blue....winter was a coming. But more of that later, let's wake up first.

After some early morning coffee I came to the conclusion it was time to, one, get dressed and two get some breakfast. But before I could eat, there was a walk that needed doing.

The cooked breakfast here at the hotel is £10 per day, so I decided to pop round to Morrisons and have one of theirs at £5.75 including a refillable pot of tea. Sorted.

I wandered round to the main bus stop in Glastonbury and waited for the bus. Most people were hoping the 376 would come fairly quickly, it was cold standing here and it had started raining again; the bus shelter doesn't offer much protection for all of us.
One thing did make me smile. There were a group of women, I could only call 'aging hippes', each with their bus passes, standing there in gypsy tops and long layered skirts, off to play 'granny' as they put it. They may have grown older but their clothing was just as it had been for the past 40+ years. Inwardly I giggled. As long as they feel comfortable then that's fine. I suspect they'd have more of a problem my side of the country.
Great thing about bus passes, it's all free as long as it's a local service. So, bus pass in hand I too waited for the 376 and travelled the 9 miles free of charge with no parking to worry about. 😊 bliss; there are some advantages to getting old.

I'm now sitting in Costa, with a really lovely coffee and dodging the worst of the rain. Once the 'showers' subside I'll move on once more. I am so glad this raincoat is virtually to the ground and warm as well as water tight!

Its Friday and I'm free to do as I please. I feel for those who still have to work. What prompted that thought? A man sitting a couple of tables away, laptop out, and on the phone having a difficult conversation with someone over when and where a meeting would be scheduled and whether he could get to Bristol in the next 10 minutes. Tee, hee, a candidate for an early heart attack if he doesn't slow down.

So I took myself into Wells Cathedral and if you're ever in Wells, without children, this is an amazing place to visit. It's free to enter but a donation is readily accepted (it's a big place to keep going and well worth all you are willing to give).

 You walk along the most amazing arched, covered transit and then turn into the church itself.

Look up at the ceiling, the painting of the patterns there are amazing.

Everywhere you go there's something else, including a rare example of a clock!

I've included some pictures here, in the hope you'll be inspired.

 When I walked into the church itself I was greeted with the most beautiful singing. A girls school from somewhere, I didn't catch the place, were rehearsing for an evening recital. If I'd known I would have been tempted to stay at the Premier in Wells and go to it. I had sat through one of these recitals before and the quality of singing is excellent.
Never mind, I was lucky enough to hear them rehearsing and after a break for prayers at the top altar (keeping the cathedral a place of worship not just a tourist attraction) the soloists returned. Wow, they were good. Mentally, I kicked myself for not going on the website and finding out what was going on that evening.

One thing I do when I am out is continually ask myself, "I wonder what's round that corner? I wonder what's up that side street?" It's how I get to see places which most tourists fail to see.

In the cathedral there were doors open; I looked out for "No Entry" signs and as they were not present, wandered through. This door intrigued me. It had been shut the last time I came here, now it was open, I wanted to look......The stairs you see above showed just how many feet had gone up and down over the years. It took you up to a meeting room where those who ran the cathedral itself would meet. It was a huge room with a central pillar supporting the roof and on each of the walls, there was a nameplate and coat of arms of the person who stood there (or maybe sat there originally, but there was no furniture in there at all when I was there). The staircase continued up to this observation window. You could see across the courtyards in front of the main entrance towards the original route of the monks and nuns as they came to pray. You could easily see anyone coming that's for certain.......from what I read, during the time of Henry 8th, that became very important because the cathedral was ransacked and put into ruin by orders of the King.

Next? After I'd listened to the girls choir rehearsal I went back to the bus station. It was early enough so I decided to stick on the 376 into Street. I'd not been there for some time (last time I was in a sun dress and wearing flip flops) so decided to be nosey. 
Yet again it was that, I wonder where this bus stops? Is it close to Clarke's Shopping Village?

Well, if you're into retail therapy then knock yourself out! This place has major high end brands galore most supporting factory prices. Handbags I'd seen on the ship at supposed tax free prices paled into insignificance by these. Mind you, there's no £20 bag sale, prices start at £89. I did say high end.
My nose caused me to wander over to a large house which said, Free Entry to an exhibition; mm, free, open, wonder what's.........yes, I was off. I happily left the retail hell to those who enjoy parting with their money for labels and kudos and headed towards this house. 
I talk to anyone ( it gets me both into lots of trouble occasionally, but most of the time, loads of information and a nice interaction with someone). By the looks of it I was the only person in the building (save those working there), so mouth engaged, I strike up a conversation with the lady on the door. Fascinating. Even more intrigued by what she has told me, I go into the exhibition ready for some hard reading off display boards.
The exhibition centred around a lady called Emily Hobhouse.

She was seen as a traitor in this country but as a heroine in South Africa because she exposed the truly dreadful conditions of and for the Boars in the prisoner of war camps. What she found were women and children being incarcerated in conditions without proper access to water or food.
Angry and frustrated by the British officers attitudes towards the prisoners, she set up feeding centres for these women and once the war was over brought them out to places where she taught them skills to make money for themselves and their families. A co-operative as it were.
In the first world war, which made her even more 'an enemy of the people', she highlighted the same plight of German women and children in the Allied prisoner of war camps and cited that unless these women and children were given help and support there could be serious consequences for the future. She wasn't far wrong there.
I was there some hour and a half, having had a further conversation with the woman on the door, chewed over the fat from what I had gleaned about this lady, and decided I wanted to find out more. She was certainly an activist in the very early days.

Having exhausted my appetite to shops ( low desire at the best of times) I headed back to the bus stop only to watch it pulling off the stand. Aaaargh! It only leaves every half an hour, I walked.

I'm back at the hotel now with feet aching, back complaining and hunger pangs growing. It's gone 4:30pm and I've not eaten since the small cooked breakfast I had at Morrisons at about 9:00am.
Time to leave my room for the final time today and grab some food and water, then its veg out in front of the TV. 💤

Glastonbury ho....

Thursday 17th October

Let me think, oh yes, M25 😳, M3 🙄 and then A303 🥴 then those lanes 😬. 

I left at about 11am and came to the conclusion I'd just go for it. The weather was appalling and the M25 was more like the bottom of a fish tank, but the sign for M3 came up eventually and we'd only been brought to a halt once for an accident ahead. Not bad really for that road.

It was bad though and most cars stayed well clear of the inside lane; the lorry tracks were no longer depressions in the surface but elongated puddles creating conditions even worse than in the other lanes. At one point, the road surface returns to its original concrete construction and even though the surface was years old, the fact there were regular gaps between the concrete slabs acted as a conduit for the surface water and driving became less of a aqua-dance and more of just not being able to see through the torrents falling from the sky.

It was a relief to peel off and I prayed for better weather.

Apart from the occasional slow down for single file and road abouts, the rest of the journey was easy. I maintained a steady speed and got to Glastonbury by 2pm, which wasn't 'half bad'.

What it did mean was I still had the whole of Thursday afternoon to go for a bit of a walk and ease off after the drive.
My eyes hurt from the concentration levels, my legs had seized up from being stuck in one position for a few hours (I really was showing wear and tear of age I can tell you) and I knew if I was going to sort this out, I needed fresh air too.

So, I'm off to enjoy a cup of tea in my room and let the world go by for a while, then wander out and have lunch. 

Fortunately, having had foresight this morning, that's already waiting for me in the car so eat that, listen to the radio and catch up on parliament and all its chaos, then go for a well deserved wander. I have a bit of shopping to do......

Well, within a matter of minutes my appetite for customised vehicles was satisfied with this little beauty. I did wonder what was under the bonnet but it's a kit car and I have no inkling as to the running gear under neath. Shame, but I can imagine a nice V8 with extra turbo power.....it isn't but I can dream 🤩

Next stop then a cup of tea and a sit down but first, I was determined to see if there was a different way through from where I am to Morrisons without facing that main road.

I had a lovely wander around Boundary Road, all the way round to where I came in! Yes, it's a boundary and it fails to give a 'get off the estate free' card for pedestrians except back out onto the main road. Oh, well I looked.

So Morrisons it is then, one tea, some tea bags, lactose free cheese and some nuts. With a salad from Subway I have my evening meal.  Nice one.

I wandered into Glastonbury centre and looked in the windows. I've moved on since then. Nothing seemed to resonate any more, it is a place I was some twenty years ago with 'hippy' skirts and gypsey dresses, Indian beads strings and vegan coffee houses. I've changed and become even more the Londoner as the years have progressed. I could feel myself nestling deeper into the culture of the South-East and Asian centres in the east end of London. 
Note to Self; time I revisited White Chapel Market.
In some ways I felt even more detached from Glastonbury than I had ever done, and although it was good to see people still getting pleasure from this culture, I did feel as if I was walking into a time-bubble which had reached a zenith in the 70s and had failed to move on.

Walking back to the hotel I thought about a camper and how I could have the best of both worlds; the camper by day and the hotel bed at night. It'll come, it'll come, once I've had that visit to Danbury Motorhomes. 

Holiday Change DO NOT REPLY

My heart sinks and I open the email. I am just a month away and the travel company now wants to make changes even though I booked this over a year ago and have waited until the last muinute to get all my extras, such a hotel the night before etc, booked and paid for......
"We will no longer be operating your flight to Tenerife....our teams are on hand to find you an alternative.....you can change the date of your holiday...."
The email went on and I was far from impressed.
No, I don't book with Thomas Cook but the generosity of the other tour operators towards their stranded and holiday-less customers has ended up with some of their own customers being stranded too. Hey ho.
Its at times like this I am so glad I book throught the High Street store and have a wonderful woman who deals with all my holidays and bookings. Armed with the email, I go and visit her. 
Stunned she takes up the case but suggests I go away for at  least an hour; yes, it'll take at least that long. I'm so glad I haven't got to face the hassle myself on the phone and on the web.
So off I go. I browse the shops, pick up a few items I know I need. I wander along to the newsagent and pick up a newspaper so as to settle down with a lovely coffee and the news.
People I know also pop into the cafe, so we chat for a while and do the general catch up. Lovely way to spend the morning. 
I fancy a quick walk in the park, so having finished coffee, pack up my bits and pieces into my rucksac and wander over to see the ducks. I've given her a good hour and a half so after two hours saunter back.
She looks stressed. Two phones are aimed at her desk. Can I go away for a bit longer? No problem says I. I go back into the park and have a wander towards the bowls green; nice down that way. I go and have a look at the house boats and watch the activity on the allotments from my side of the river, then follow the path round, past the football practise pitches and the various other activities for children and return to the lake and the castle. Nice here.
After another hour I go back and she is less stressed. I have flights and although I leave at silly-o-clock in the morning I gain almost a day away.
Now which do you think is the better response to the email? Having to deal with it yourself and losing the transfer coach to your hotel, or allowing a High Street rep to do the leg work for you and know the transfer is still organised?
In my world there's just no contest. So Tenerife and the north, here I come......😎