We were on route to Kendal when the unthinkable happened - OK, if you have ever seen the white beast you might not think it's so unthinkable. Anyway, the beast is dead. The gear box is f&%@ed and there 'aint no chance of a resurrection. We had just about made Stafford when she blew.
Helen is understandably upset and I'm fair sad. I was looking forward to seeing her get her medals. God moves in mysterious ways.
As I pen this I am on the train back to Gloucester. I hope to make home by nine where upon I shall hop into the car and drive back to Stafford to collect Helen, the dogs, our stuff and anything else we can fit in.
This is going to be a long night. Smoke us a kipper we'll be home for breakfast...
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