The first part of my journey home involved a quick detour back to Latham's, not for coffee and cake this time but for a dvd - I'd seen it the previous day but couldn't remember if I already had it in my collection so I'd phoned my son and asked him to check. He'd confirmed later that I didn't have it and as I hadn't seen it anywhere else I went back to Latham's to get it while it was still available. My detour added half an hour to my journey time but I figured that if I only made one stop en route I would be home for 4pm with plenty of time to spare before I had to go to work at 5pm - however, things didn't quite work out like that. Somewhere along the A17 - and in place-name terms I don't know exactly where - are a couple of cafes and a farm shop on opposite sides of the road, and not far away is a bungalow with a private collection of vintage tractors on display at the front; I've passed the place many times but never seen it looking as colourful as it did then so on the spur of the moment I pulled in at the nearby cafe car park and taking my life in my hands crossing the busy road I walked back to take a look.
The bungalow had bright yellow and red canopies over each window and several hanging baskets containing a profusion of flowers; flower tubs lined the garden wall along the front of the bungalow, the tractors were all brightly painted in their correct colours and in front of them was a long stretch of ground with more flowers and a large white-painted ornamental windmill at one end. There was no indication of what the place was but it was certainly very attractive and definitely worth a few photos.
Back on the road again my second stop was at the Cheerio Cafe where I had coffee and apple pie with cream and the dogs had a walk along the edge of the field behind, which would keep them happy for the rest of the journey. By the time I set off from there though my detour to Latham's and my unscheduled stop to look at the tractors meant I was running later than I intended and as I drove up the A1 I realised that if I continued on my usual route from there I would be limited to no more than 50mph for most of it and I would also hit horrendous traffic on the outskirts of Manchester. So with a bit of quick thinking I changed my plans, driving straight up the A1 to the M62, and although it added a few miles to the journey it meant I could go a bit faster, and with no delays on the motorway itself I was actually home just before 4pm so I had plenty of time to relax before going to work.
As I lay in bed that night my mind went back over the last eleven days and I decided there was something to be said for taking my Norfolk holiday in September; it was certainly something to consider for any future breaks down there as the camp site had been lovely and quiet, the site fees were cheaper, and best of all I'd had eleven days of absolutely perfect weather. And when someone at work had asked where I'd got my great suntan from I quite truthfully answered "California"!
