Love, Poetry and Revolution - Good Friday (Friday 7th April 2023)

We wake up in Poughill for the last time this week. We've had a wonderful with friends: much walking, fish and chips, and so much laughter that my sides were in peril. Not to mention the presence of an impromptu brass band.

Today, however, Q and I are heading back to Liverpool. Our host has been exceptional, perhaps vehement, even providing a packed lunch for the journey east and north. Wonderful.

We're now back in the 'pool, after a long but largely uneventful drive. The weather has been good - too good for travelling, really, but heigh-ho.

Not long after returning home, we headed out for dinner at Wagamama, 'we' being Q, Φ, and I.   The food was really good, though Φ's had flies in it. She complained (very politely) and asked what the fly was doing in her dinner.  The waitress said, 'it looks like the back stroke, madam.' Except that she didn't. That only happened in my head. Sadly.  Instead, Φ had her dinner replaced and we got an extra round of drinks for free.  Excellent customer service. The manager came over and said "I'm mortified" in a scouse accent. Truly brilliant.

Home again, home again, clippety-clop. 

It's Zebedee time again.

Traffic / 'Utterly Simple' / 'Mr. Fantasy'


[[Going full hippy today and it also seems rather appropriate (the band name, at least)]]

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