Ali comes to visit

It was a strange feeling, waiting at Bath railway station and knowing Ali would soon be there. A familiar face in the midst of this peculiar world of faffers, chavs and pasty-eaters. To add to the feeling of bizarre-ness, the perpetual grey sky decided to clear for once and there was a startling amount of blue everywhere. From the moment she stepped off the train, we had the best weather we'd had in months. The girl definitely knows how to bring the sunshine! We caught the bus back up to Frome Rd and when we went out to sit in the park overlooking the city, the hot air balloons were up. Picture perfect and all for her, of course. We had just one day left in Bath and I think we managed to cover the highlights: a walk across the muddy paddocks to Englishcombe village, a spot of window shopping in the high town, a box of Ben's cookies eaten in Victoria Gardens, and a pint in the Packhorse as the sun set. It's a good thing she doesn't have trouble with jet lag.

In the midst of all this gallavanting around, we also had to pick up our hire car. Armed with the street name we walked out into Bath's industrial area. The Alamo website had neglected to provide a street number, and when I rang up information, they couldn't give me a number either. We passed one place with vehicles out the front but it was the wrong company so we kept on walking. After an hour or so in which we covered what must be Bath's longest street, we decided to head back to the other car place and ask them if they knew where it was. We trudged up to their office, went inside, and saw with equal relief and disgust, a large 'National' car hire banner across the wall and a small sign on the desk saying that it was also 'Alamo' car hire. Having found the place, we then began the ordeal of actually trying to check the car out. According to the man at the desk, the technology they were using was on par with smoke signals. Typing with two fingers, breathing heavily and squinting at the screen, he brought up our order. First the computer tried to give us a car that we couldn't drive because we're all under 25, and then one that wasn't actually ready yet. For the privilege of such good service we got charged a 15% premium location fee. Finally, all was made right and we drove away and promptly got lost in Bath's complicated maze of one way streets and no right turns.

The next morning, we loaded up the car with all our this-side-of-the-earth-ly belongings, posted our keys back through the door and left Frome Rd forever. We drove south towards the New Forest. The fog lifted to reveal thatched villages and gently rolling Wiltshire hills. Just under two hours later, we stopped at the ridiculously pretty village of Beaulieau. The locals were out, busy with their Saturday morning shopping, not even glancing at the ponies strolling down the street. Ever since I had heard about the New Forest and its wild ponies, I had been hoping to come and, if I was lucky, to see a few of them. No luck was required, the ponies were everywhere, along with wild pigs and deer. As it turned out, we weren't the only people who had thought about hiring a bike on this sunny Saturday and we had an impromptu driving tour of the New Forest villages as we tried to find a place that had some left. Eventually, we found some, swapped four wheels for two and cycled out into the Forest.

It wasn't a forest in the traditional sense of there being lots and lots of trees, and the odd elf or two. In some places there were no trees, but big open heaths with lots of grazing horses. Bike tracks were a-plenty and we had a wonderful day cycling around, the beautiful scenery compensating for seriously uncomfortable bike seats! We returned the bikes and drove to Hythe where we were staying at the Maples Hotel. The proprieters, Shirley and Godfrey, were friendly, welcoming hosts. We heard a lot about their son who is the goal keeper for the English hockey team and who had just returned home from Beijing. I think it's fair to say that they're quite proud of him. At sunset, we drove down to the beach and found an endless row of brightly painted beach huts. In the morning, Ali squared up to her first full English breakfast which Eddy and I attacked ours like veterans.

The second day's drive took us along the Jurassic coastline. We stopped to see the Cerne Abbas giant, and then drove down the winding coastal road to Abbotsbury and Chesil Beach. We climbed up to a lonely, beautiful chapel. England is generally very pretty when it's overcast. When it's sunny, it's magnificent. Our next stop was at the pretty fishing village of Lyme Regis. It was over-run with beach-goers and ice-cream eaters. Half of the beach was pebbles, the other (the half where people were swimming) was sand. Back in the car again, we drove down to Dartmouth, another fishing village. Its harbour is surrounded by steep, cottage-covered hills. There was a distinct, pleasant feeling of Sunday evening sleepiness there and we just managed to get our fish and chips before the kiosk shut.

The next day, we faced the long haul back up to London. We chose, what was in hindsight, not the most direct route, but one that certainly took us through some nice scenery, and traffic jams. Ironically, it turned out that it was 'Leave your car at home' day. I guess nobody else knew that it was either. We drove up around the edge of Exmoor National Park and stopped for lunch at Minehead. Then with the clock ticking to get the car back, we jumped on the M5 motorway just as the rain started.

A few days later, we said good bye to Ali. She stayed in London with friends while we flew out to start the walk. When we arrived back from Spain yesterday, one and a half months after all this happened, I almost felt like she should still be here, but unfortunately, she'd made her way back to Sydney.