Of Dovedale 5

Friday was my seventh and final day. I should have left on Thursday since I had something to attend back in the Fens, but I put it off. I couldn't get out of leaving on Friday though, because we had the launch of the re-branded Songwriters and Poets Night and I needed to be back for that. It was too important to miss. That didn't stop me putting off leaving for as long as possible. Fortunately, despite torrential rain that continued through the night the day started off beautifully with bright sun, blue sky and no sign of a cloud.

I had very little sleep on Thursday night. During the evening we gathered round the fire under umbrellas, ponchos and other attempted shields against the deluge, so it wasn't that I stayed out late. The battery on my phone drained during the week and Shorny had kindly charged it up for me from his solar resources. Somehow, despite no phone signal and no internet access it was recording five missed calls. Naturally I spent the night musing and fretting over what they might be. I suspected it may have been the signwriter or the boatyard. It could have been a member of the family. Then my mind turned to wilder fancies. What if it had been a member of P's family trying to let me know that he had been taken ill or someone in my family had had an accident. I don't receive a single call most weeks and now I had missed five of them. I tried to convince myself that they were more nuisance calls about my "recent accident" or PPI (tell me again what that stands for), but that didn't really help. It was about 7am by the time I think I fell asleep for an hour. I had resolved I was going to walk as far as necessary to get a signal and sort out whatever needed sorting as soon as it was decent to disturb someone. 

I donned my boots and set off upwards. Anywhere else from the camping site is upwards and I was heading towards a guest house at the top of a hill. I guessed correctly that a phone signal would be available there. Hello again, outside world! Checking the voice mail service, four of the calls were indeed about the boat and they had started arriving last Monday - four days ago. Friday (i.e. today) had apparently been designated as the day the boat was due to come out of the water for re-blacking.  Before then the signwriter needed to ply his trade while the boat was still in the paint shed and he needed to discuss details. In the end, not being able to get hold of me they had made an executive decision and gone ahead. Now I was really worried. What if I didn't like what he'd done? Had I made the call and the decision, I had only myself to blame if I didn't like the result. I would have to live with that, but I do hate the feeling of having an opportunity to blame someone else. I do not like how that makes me feel. There was no other option, though. The journey back for Songwriters and Poets Night would now definitely have to be via the boatyard. 

I didn't want to pack the pavilion away wet, so I pottered about finding places for all the other paraphernalia. By mid-day the pavilion was mostly dry so I packed that down too. I'm getting good at this.

I wandered the field saying my goodbyes. What lovely friends I have on UKH. I shall miss them all, but I expect I shall be back next year. Who knows, we may be able to meet somewhere else during the months ahead. So to OldKeith, Marion, Alice's Wonderland, Enigma Rising and the children, Fire Tree, Uncle Jhad, Rainbowmama, Real Nutter, Yaz, Zendaze, Trap, Man From Manchester, Wandering Gypsy, Parrotandcrow and her amazing menagerie, Moon Cheese, Rachel, AndyVW, Enigma's Mum, Mad Pete, Two Wheels Good and specially to Shorny (the keeper of the trivet who kept the fires burning) thank you for love and friendship. I have had a great week. Inevitably, by naming names, I have missed someone out. Please accept this is a function of age and not a deliberate slight. Likewise if I missed saying farewell before I left I apologise. 

May your travels take you all to fair places.