As internationally renowned philosopher Madonna once opined:
If we took a holiday
Took some time to celebrate
Just one day out of life
It would be, it would be so nice
The BF persuaded me that a break in the countryside would be nice after all these months of virtual house arrest, so we booked a little cottage on the edge of the Cotswolds. Was I more amenable when I spotted the location was near the bottom of the West Midlands Railway map? That's an appalling accusation, how dare you, please don't tell him.
The cottage was in a place called Armscote, and the nearest town was Stratford-Upon-Avon, somewhere neither of us had ever visited and which demanded a day trip. We'd driven down there initially. I say "we"; I don't drive any more, because I'm pathetic, but the BF loves it and is happy to plough his way through motorways and back roads while I doze in the seat next to him. I suggested that rather than driving into town and trying to park, we instead take the train in.
This is where we hit another disadvantage of me being accompanied. If I'm on my own on a train trip, it's me and my thoughts. From the first minute I'm effectively writing the blog post. That's interesting. That's unusual. Listen to what those people are saying. It's all filed away in my head and then it comes flooding out again when I'm sat at my keyboard.