Well, our re-entry back into the mad world of south-east England was as fretful as ever. We had had yet another good week on Cornwall`s Roseland Peninsula - only one wet day and we used the others to resume our affection for the bits of the south-west coast path between Percuil and Nare Head.
Now I`m sure I`m no different to anyone else but I confess to always having mixed feelings about the re-entry. OK, the week away was good and, as the song goes, it`s awful nice to go trav`lin but so much nicer to come home. Well, maybe. Trouble is, the journey of over 300 miles is becoming a bit of a slog. We left the sleepy, narrow lane above Porthcurnick Beach, turned on to another even narrower one, then the A3078 meandered its way to join the A390 and so to the A38, across the Tamar Bridge into Devon and on to Exeter. It was there that we were held up by traffic going to the Devon County Show. Took us over an hour to get free of it; why can`t they have these County Shows in November when there`s not so much traffic about?
On to the M5, off at Taunton, then the A383 to join the A303, eulogised by Tom Fort and rightly so as it truly is the Highway to the Sun, that is if you`re heading west. It has a different feel coming back the other way. We joined the M3 at Basingstoke, which is where the traffic speeds up, courtesy becomes a thing of the past and the rustic charm of our green and pleasant land becomes a distant memory. On to the M25 where, straddling the Surrey/Kent border, there are long term road works. God only knows what they`re doing but there are miles of crawling traffic greeted by notices proclaiming that these hold-ups will continue until Autumn 2014! At last the M26 and finally back home.
Our tiny corner of the south-east hadn`t changed during our week away - it never does really - but the contrast between what we had left behind 300 miles away and what we were presented with on our re-entry is always stark. From the sound of waves lapping on the shoreline to the screech of the M20, the high-speed rail link and the threat of Boris Island; from the reality of time governed by tides to the absurdity of people governing time. It might be nice to be home but I wish someone would slow things down, and turn down the volume.
On to the M5, off at Taunton, then the A383 to join the A303, eulogised by Tom Fort and rightly so as it truly is the Highway to the Sun, that is if you`re heading west. It has a different feel coming back the other way. We joined the M3 at Basingstoke, which is where the traffic speeds up, courtesy becomes a thing of the past and the rustic charm of our green and pleasant land becomes a distant memory. On to the M25 where, straddling the Surrey/Kent border, there are long term road works. God only knows what they`re doing but there are miles of crawling traffic greeted by notices proclaiming that these hold-ups will continue until Autumn 2014! At last the M26 and finally back home.
Our tiny corner of the south-east hadn`t changed during our week away - it never does really - but the contrast between what we had left behind 300 miles away and what we were presented with on our re-entry is always stark. From the sound of waves lapping on the shoreline to the screech of the M20, the high-speed rail link and the threat of Boris Island; from the reality of time governed by tides to the absurdity of people governing time. It might be nice to be home but I wish someone would slow things down, and turn down the volume.
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