The cause was a family party at a pub between Cricklade and Malmesbury; this last bit of the journey was very pleasant, and I exchanged a nice wave with a couple coming the other way on a little old Vespa.
I don't know that side of my family all that well, and spent most of my evening talking to an eight-year-old. Fortunately, he was a splendid conversationalist:
- What do you like doing?
- What do you like to eat?
- Are you a boy or a girl?
Handily, I was able to drop in on phoenicia on the way, and also spend the night at his house rather than fork out for a Travelodge. He had the kettle on when I rolled in at midnight, and had even recorded Doctor Who for me!
Yesterday I cycled to my grandma's and back then had a cold bath. Apparently my subconscious thinks I need to be punished.
While I was having breakfast this morning there was a bright flash in the sky followed by an enormous BANG that set off all the car alarms in the vicinity. As a child of the '80s I immediately assumed that the nuclear holocaust had come at last - rather than duck and cover I went outside to have a look, figuring I was dead from fallout anyway - but it was a mere thunderstorm.