So… then what happened?

Yes, more about the trip to England… Now we’re into day three — Huzzah! — and on to Day Four by the end of this, I might add (mostly due to the fact it all blurs together without enough to differentiate betwixt things).

So…

We’re at Monday now, and Steve and Hilary [aka: “The Most Beautiful Woman in the World, according to Steve; and he’s not entirely wrong] have gone off to Italy to visit with her daughter who’s visiting there herself. I’m given the run of the place while they’re gone. Bwahahaahahaha!

The local constabulary has already met me on Saturday afternoon, so they’re wise to me already. Bit of a problem, that.

The Monday passed with me looking for news on the rider of the motorcycle at the Police Station, but they couldn’t tell me anything due to “confidentiality concerns”. I certainly understood, but I hadn’t thought “is he dead?” would be a huge problem to get an answer for. At this point I didn’t even know his name, for Heaven’s sake! I could have asked him on Saturday afternoon, I suppose, but I thought that his lying on the roof of a car at the time signalled something of it being an inopportune moment to bother with paperwork concerns.

I then hied me t’ward some lunch along Ely Street at a place I had spotted the day prior with some claim about the finest Fish & Chips in Her Majesty’s Realm (they didn’t go that far, but it was certainly the best example I could find without any motor-vehicle and a GPS unit). Through the door, and then all the way down a very long hallway, hang a right, pull at the door… pull at the door… pull… at… the door…

Read the notice on the door…

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