A driver reduced to tears, a wet bed, and a lot more than I bargained for on the most arduous journey yet.

jennylloydwriter

So, it’s the Tuesday morning after my accident on the beach and I’m waiting for the brother of a-friend-of-a-friend-of-a-relative to arrive by taxi from Bangor to drive me, my dogs, and the camper van near to family in Shropshire. Liz and co. have gone to walk the dogs down to the harbour and I’m watching out for said arrival of the taxi.

I see a taxi hurtling down the lane to the farmhouse on the site; the taxi turns, wheels spinning, and as rapidly departs again, leaving clouds of dust ( but not my  driver) in its wake. How very strange, think I. Stranger things will happen before the day is out!

Five minutes later, Liz and co. come back with the dogs and my driver. The dogs have had a swim in the harbour. I ask what happened with the taxi. My driver, let’s call him Clive, says the…

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