Smellinghill

Out of the frying pan into the fire, waiting for a bed.
This is Englandia. The cost of the developed world.
I suppose that complaints are part of the countryside now.
No worries I can muck in with the best of them.
One small step, one giant leap for a future that is
as undefined now as it was many moons ago when I set out on this cross country malarky.
As to whether I have stopped, No would have to be the response.
One only lays ones hat when one is at home, and that I fear is South of the equator.
The North is played out, north west that is at least.

Ascot

Up and running, nothing like hanging out in poncelandia