Our trip back from Sudeley was harrowing. Apparently the Cotswolds does have its very own rush hour which turns the single lane winding roads into a rich tapestry of near death experiences.
Kaety and I were furiously ‘group thinking’ every move. At some point we fell in with a caravan of about ten fast moving locals launching their way down the narrow lanes at X-wing fighter like speeds. I realized our only hope of surviving the one lane road was to stay with the herd. I tried desperately to keep up. I knew that If I left a big enough hole the oncoming traffic would inject itself and trap us head-on.
At some point the whole caravan was stopped as a huge tractor pulling a cattle car entered the fray. As everyone folded space to make room where no room could possibly exist I was reminded of the capacity of Japanese trains. A miracle of physics. When we arrived back at our village my hands were weak from the death grip I’d had on the steering wheel.