Then, I picked up the Squadra and began to cycle off. At this point, of course, Doug appeared, having gone to the other northern meeting post, Seven Sister's Lane. Having no phone with him, and not seeing any members of the Trois V arrive, he was returning to do some laps. With that, and my accusation that Doug was suffering from a hangover and unable to ride languishing unheard on his answerphone, waiting to detonate later, we headed north.
We had lost some time, so resolved to head straight to to Toot Hill. This we did. As ever, the moment you leave London and enter the countryside made it all worthwhile.
|Essex and the Outside|
A deep breath, pull up by his window, and very politely, I hope, suggested if he was going to drive so fast he may like to consider giving humans a bit more of a berth. A second of staring into each others eyes. He folded first and nodded assent.
The out to Toot Hill, discussing the Pixies en route and discovering that there were a lot more hills than we remembered on the way, and back, as we planned. Stava records the route something as a tadpole. One day, it may be a frog.
A constitutional amendment: henceforth, all meeting points will be confirmed by name and street the evening before. And, noted, Dr Doug always announces his hangovers in advance.