Man's inhumanity...

Although the start wasn’t quite as early as intended, we sailed along clear roads and took 15 minutes to cover a distance that would normally take up to an hour – and then it all came unstuck. We crawled along for mile after mile, luckily not too bothered as we had no specific times to be anywhere. Eventually we came to a turnoff and saw our way ahead beautifully clear, while the road to the right was solid and stationary, and realized the holdup was caused by people trying an alternative route to the beach and lake resorts. Poor things, they probably faced several more hours of crawling.

Onwards and upwards, stopping at the top of the hill to buy fruit and veg. I went over to the antique/junk shop to satisfy my curiosity about the torture chair, but almost wished I hadn’t. To my horror, I learned that this was no mediaeval instrument that had somehow washed up here, or a mock-up of one, but something that was used on slaves, and not so very long ago. Don’t know why this hadn’t occurred to me before. The inhumanity, and the agony that must have been inflicted, are almost unthinkable. The spikes were designed to penetrate every part of the body, and there were even screws to bring more pressure to bear.

It seems almost wrong to have been able to enjoy the rest of the day after that, but flesh is weak, and the holiday feeling crept back inexorably. Tipped HH out at the golf club, where we met some really nice new members (a Welsh ship’s captain, now there was a surprise, and his Brazilian wife), then popped home to greet the dogs and unload the car before returning to the club for lunch with aforesaid new members and others.

Back home again, working on the collage of photos of HH’s 70th birthday party last year – with luck, might actually finish it before his next birthday, on Friday.