As the clock struck three, I strolled out of work and headed off onto the first leg of my Autumn break: tonight, London; tomorrow and beyond, Ventenac. I was almost whistling as I skipped my way to the train station, the warm sun tickling my neck. Vive les vaccances!
“Mate, can you wait for me in the Salisbury? I’ve got to stay at work for an hour or so?”
Wait in the pub? Yes, I think I can handle a bit of waiting in the pub. I sat down and enjoyed a beer or two, a little bit of David Bowie on the jukebox, and a few stories about Bob Dylan from my book. It’s a cracking pub, one that’d be easy to get used to.
I was feeling quite relaxed – having consumed around about two pints of relaxation-facilitator – when Vin arrived. It was brilliant to see him, and I’m glad we had a chance to catch up before leaving for France. We went through our careers, our recent romantic histories, and other issues of the day. We were pestered by kids with stickers, two demonic little girls, running around the pub. Their parents were our age. Chilling stuff.
We took on a few more beers, then swung back to Pemberton Towers. The new resident there, Louise, is stunningly beautiful. Olly was there, and not bad looking himself. I spent the night in Skinner’s bed because he had already left for Belgium. What happened to Skinner in Belgium, however, is entirely another story…