Believe it or not we’ve only got to Day 5. I know this is taking me a long time to tell this story of my trip, but what with the continuing balderdash of the motor accident my heart just isn’t often in it.

A brief word about that by the way: the motorcyclist is improving (I keep meaning to get back to the person who told me this but I keep being distracted by things; my bad), so all there is getting better for him. However, I can’t seem to get a solicitor to even reply to an e-mail, fax, or even good old fashioned letter post. So the latest correspondence went to the Canadian High Commission in Canada House on Trafalgar Square. Let’s see what sort of diplomatic service can be done.

Meanwhile, here’s the tale of woe explaining how you do not get from Stratford-upon-Avon to King’s Lynn; unless you are determined to have interesting video to post on your blog when you return.

It’s a bit of a large long file, and runs just under 7½ minutes, so you might want to get a refreshment.

I arrived at the hotel in King’s Lynn after becoming lost in the town and having a nice restaurateur explain how to get all the way back through town to the hotel where I was supposed to meet up with my ride to the dinner. I had possibly the fasted pint of my life and felt none of the usual effects after it.

When I attempted to locate the restaurant the next evening in order to give the man my commerce, I could not locate him. I believe he only existed long enough to help me, and then vanished until someone else needs assistance.

This fall, I will find him and enjoy dinner there. And I will get there from the hotel by taxi.

Oh yes.