What a venture to the north so far. London traffic, to the great surprise of no one, sucks in the worst way. The M1 was brutal: we took other motorways as shortcuts as best we could, but inevitably we hit traffic near Nottingham that brought us to a crawl.
Just past Nottingham we grew frustrated and ducked off to the side roads, on the lookout for a pub. We stopped at one place and decided the wait was too long; that was a bit of good luck, as the next candidate we spotted — The White Bear — was a brilliant find. An old (obviously) stone building overlooking a beautiful valley, they served amazing food (some of the best, and certainly the most, duck that I’ve ever been served…in a black cherry sauce) with lots of veg, and some good drinks. Quite a find.
Speaking of finding, the B&B proved to be a challenge. The English like to give directions that aren’t terribly specific or helpful, so we did a lot of driving up and down tiny country lanes trying to read signs in the dark, having no mobile coverage with which to call, before finally arriving. It’s the epitome of English country home, with beautiful gardens and such, but all I really cared about was the softness of the bed. I slept like the dead, but awoke to the sounds of birds and farm animals outside. Yup. We’re in England.
Time for breakfast. This message won’t get through ’til tonight as there’s no coverage here.
Skirl | Dan Dickinson 