Hereford to Paris

Hereford

It’s my last day in Hereford and I have just gotten used to the quiet. It is no longer a roar, but sooths now.

This morning I woke early and popped on top of a hill by the house. A local farmer was collecting what looked like mushrooms. The contrasting light of the morning, the clear air, so different from the London I inhabit right now.

My car (an old Karmann Ghia) wouldn’t start this morning so I had to enrol the locals into getting helping me find some jump leads.

The chap who got me on the road – Gus – happened to have a collection of around twenty vintage tractors in his shed.

As you do of course.

We chatted about tractors for a good while until I felt I needed to be on my way.

Tomorrow it’s off to Paris for the weekend. I stay in a flat just near canal St Martin where I have wireless if I have to work.

But I really would rather not. It’s romance this weekend, but I’ll try and find the time to update this ditty.

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