All spaced out in the Black Mountains
The hardest part of course is getting out of London. I knocked off work at lunchtime and headed round to my friend Bryan's flat. We were on the road by 2pm but that's when Friday rush hour starts around here. Two hours later we were finally motoring along the M4 in Berkshire headed for the village of Llanthony in the Welsh Black Mountains. Pints and pub grub awaited us, as well as stars and peace and quiet. A young guy called Russ joined us in the pub; he was over from Reading by himself after his mate bailed out. We found plenty to chat about, not surprising as we were all there for the same reason, although at different life stages - Russ young and without children and making the most of it with his outdoors pursuits and travelling, us early middle-aged types with relatively little time for ourselves but a quickening sense of how much - or little - is left to us. Next morning began with bacon and egg sandwiches and tea at a little hole-in-the-wall-type cafe in the village. Hu