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There isn't much worse than going to bed too early still jet lagged, and waking up at 1.30 am to the very clear memory of leaving one of your very favourite items of clothing hanging in the closet in the last motel you stayed at. My black velvet jacket with the pink lining. At that time of night I went through all possible variations on leaving it there or retrieving it. Morning finally came and I called the motel to see if it was indeed there. It was. Michael the Wonderful immediately suggested driving back to get it. Not a cross word. It is a long drive.
Barbara was happy to go along for the outing, and wanted us to take her car for the journey, so we did. This was an all day thing, I fear. We know that road pretty well now, and I took quite a few car pictures. This is me outside the motel flashing the pink lining of the jacket.
Another couple of car pics:
I love that square cloud formation.
We got home just in time to go out again. Dinner with some family friends, who are very good to Barbara. I think we are going to avoid church on Sunday, which is a relief.
Hastings (the ancestral home) is a mobile phone black spot, and there is no easy wi-fi, so communications has been limited. It is odd to spend so long without a keyboard. Good for me, no doubt. I enjoyed looking at Barbara's knitting magazines from the seventies and eighties. Some of the patterns deserve a spot in Stitchy McYarnpants's Museum of Kitschy Stitches.