Bedwyn in bloom

It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.

Today’s training doesn’t go so well. I’m tired after last night and the material is challenging. Not a disaster, but a disappointment.

I pack up the flat and jump the train to Bedwyn. I doze fitfully, secure in the knowledge that Bedwyn is the end of the line.

Mum picks me up at the station. I eat my Leon mezze, we chat, I run a hot bath, and go to sleep, listening to Melvyn Bragg explore the wonders of echolocation with three bat-people - Drs Jones, Jones, and Waters.