The backpack, by now, was heavy as hell, and nothing about arriving-seeing everyone, knowing this part of the journey was finished, enjoying the fact that I was in England and could simply relax and enjoy a holiday-quite matched the joy of dropping the damn thing in the back of a Nissan Note. Exhausted, as such, there was drinking to do, or maybe that’s sights to see, and wandering around Bath on sore legs was more pleasant than I might have imagined.
A curious surprise: I’m sure I probably knew it at one point, but forgot along the way. After settling in for a pint and chips (with bacon and cheese) at a pub whose name, as you might guess, escapes memory, we toured Bath, and then at some point, Drew asked if I felt up for a short hike to the top of a hill to look over the countryside. Hesitant, well-played. I wasn’t going to drag everyone else down just because I was tanked and exhausted. And, having the pack off me, and knowing I had made it, I was up for almost anything. A short hike wouldn’t kill me.
We were probably making the last turn before I realized where we were going.
Solsbury Hill.
No comments:
Post a Comment