Better late than never

Last autumn Roland should have moved into his new house. This spring the PCG should have had its Easter meal. But Brits are not known for their punctuality, and only now, half August, we would have that dinner. I looked up the venue, and guess what: only about a mile away from the house Roland thought he had bought last September. And even better: after almost a year it had turned out he indeed had bought it, and that very day he’d move in! So that worked out well.

Roland picked me up from Calstock railway station, looking happy, and drove me to his new place. It was indeed beautiful! Even though it was filled to the brim with boxes. And the view is stunning. We had a cup of tea and then I found myself lurking in the loft, stowing away not very necessary stuff Roland handed me. But one could tell they had only moved six months before, as about an hour later there was no more for me to do! So I wished them all good luck with the unpacking, and walked north, where I was the first caver in the pub. But not for long! And within no time we were many, and we had a lovely dinner. And to top it up I hitched a ride home from Dave, who was also delivering his wife, his daughter and other Dave home. And somewhere on the Moors we stopped, and looked at the cloudless sky, looking for meteors. I did not see any, but it was a nice end for a good day! And that gives faith for life here in Britain, where things perhaps happen months too late, but work out fine in the end.