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Sep. 29th, 2012 02:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencerGuyhirn is a smallish place between Peterborough and Wisbech. We reached it some time after nine o'clock on Monday night, having made good time as far as Peterborough and stopped for food there.
"Road Closed," said the sign, in a sneering tone. "Follow Diversion," it added, raising an insolent eyebrow before turning away in an offhand manner, or that may have been us. So we followed the road for March.
And then Chatteris.
And then Ely. At which point, with Downham Market and Kings Lynn on the menu to follow, my beloved wife began to show signs of restiveness, because this is a monumentally stupid way to get from Guyhirn to Wisbech. I looked at the map, and to be sure it was the best available road, but I mean really, what?? So I turned left at Littleport and endured a slightly more awful road, thereby shaving Downham M. and Kings L. off and saving a little bit of time and petrol. We stopped in Wisbech for supplies (hate big greedy exploitative corporations, but it's nice to be able to buy teabags at half past oh gods o'clock at night) and went on to Sutton Bridge, arriving past midnight to find the DC waiting up for us. We stayed just long enough to say hi and phone the Travelodge to make sure we could still get in, and then went there and crashed.
The next morning we breakfasted late, but very well, at the Cosy Cafe in Long Sutton, which I recommend, and then went on to the DC's place, where we spent most of the day. She is definitely having problems with short-term memory, will not use her hearing aid, and clings fiercely to the belief that the woman who looks after the man next door is coming into her house through locked doors, taking her stuff and leaving identical but different stuff, or something else, or little notes (which turn out to be in the DC's own handwriting). It makes for stressful conversations. Since the hospital she has also been convincing herself that she's going to die any minute, which doesn't help, so it was something of a relief to tear ourselves away and go to the graveyard.
I like graveyards, I admit it, and so does Jan, though this one has been mucked about by successive vicars and a lot of the old inhabitants are gone. Paths are also scarce, so wheeling Jan up and down was interesting, but we managed to find Gran and Grandad Warner, uncles Reg, Sid, Dave, John and Horry, and finally Jan's dad (who's never where we expect him to be) and his first wife Violet. Jan was very upset over the condition of her grave. Then we went to visit Jan's cousin Maureen, who is very nice and has been through some terrible times lately, and then back to the DC for supper, which was a burger for me and a kebab for Jan from a very good place in Sutton Bridge High Street, and so to bed in the guest room attached to the estate (which the DC had told us had been abolished, but which proved still to be there and eminently bookable. That is going to be something of a relief, as it's much cheaper than the Travelodge though a bit more spartan.
Day three will follow in due course.
"Road Closed," said the sign, in a sneering tone. "Follow Diversion," it added, raising an insolent eyebrow before turning away in an offhand manner, or that may have been us. So we followed the road for March.
And then Chatteris.
And then Ely. At which point, with Downham Market and Kings Lynn on the menu to follow, my beloved wife began to show signs of restiveness, because this is a monumentally stupid way to get from Guyhirn to Wisbech. I looked at the map, and to be sure it was the best available road, but I mean really, what?? So I turned left at Littleport and endured a slightly more awful road, thereby shaving Downham M. and Kings L. off and saving a little bit of time and petrol. We stopped in Wisbech for supplies (hate big greedy exploitative corporations, but it's nice to be able to buy teabags at half past oh gods o'clock at night) and went on to Sutton Bridge, arriving past midnight to find the DC waiting up for us. We stayed just long enough to say hi and phone the Travelodge to make sure we could still get in, and then went there and crashed.
The next morning we breakfasted late, but very well, at the Cosy Cafe in Long Sutton, which I recommend, and then went on to the DC's place, where we spent most of the day. She is definitely having problems with short-term memory, will not use her hearing aid, and clings fiercely to the belief that the woman who looks after the man next door is coming into her house through locked doors, taking her stuff and leaving identical but different stuff, or something else, or little notes (which turn out to be in the DC's own handwriting). It makes for stressful conversations. Since the hospital she has also been convincing herself that she's going to die any minute, which doesn't help, so it was something of a relief to tear ourselves away and go to the graveyard.
I like graveyards, I admit it, and so does Jan, though this one has been mucked about by successive vicars and a lot of the old inhabitants are gone. Paths are also scarce, so wheeling Jan up and down was interesting, but we managed to find Gran and Grandad Warner, uncles Reg, Sid, Dave, John and Horry, and finally Jan's dad (who's never where we expect him to be) and his first wife Violet. Jan was very upset over the condition of her grave. Then we went to visit Jan's cousin Maureen, who is very nice and has been through some terrible times lately, and then back to the DC for supper, which was a burger for me and a kebab for Jan from a very good place in Sutton Bridge High Street, and so to bed in the guest room attached to the estate (which the DC had told us had been abolished, but which proved still to be there and eminently bookable. That is going to be something of a relief, as it's much cheaper than the Travelodge though a bit more spartan.
Day three will follow in due course.
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Date: 2012-09-29 05:14 pm (UTC)Ahh. I know little of English geography, or anywhere else for that matter, but I do know "Castleford, Ely, Kings Lynn, and the sea" from Tom's Midnight Garden. Thanks for the memory.