London Calling

27 May 2022

Time for tearful farewells. In retrospect we might have stayed in Easington a day longer but London called. Uncle Harry was very sad and I must admit to feeling similarly. We don’t know if and when we’ll meet again but let’s hope there’s another opportunity. I expect we will though because I'm keen to revisit the Stadium of Light for a game sooner rather than later.

So we headed to ‘The South’ through the shifting accents, stopping at Barnsley (or summat like that) Services. After some consternation from me about avoiding the congestion charge, we hit London. Hit’s probably not the right word; more crawled into London. The final 10 miles to Clapham took about 80 minutes. If I wasn’t already convinced, I was now sure that, despite its many glories, I would never live in this city. We got to Clapham just after five and Dan regretfully took our trusty black steed back to Kennington.

The pub called and after several pints in the evening light bantering about the upcoming jubbly with Paula, Tom and Max, we headed home and hit the hay.