Bartimaeus

Our train journey was a breeze: prompt departure, friendly guard, quiet coach, swift change at Crewe. I wondered what our weather would be like on arrival as there was rain, rushing streams and flooded fields with wading egrets to be seen out of the window. It was a dry arrival at Rugby. The odd shaped ball was no surprise but the cherry blossom was.

I went to a shop near the station while Shane studied routes and had established from the Stagecoach app how to get there by bus, though it was a disappointment to see the very one we wanted had recently left the nearest bus stop. I dug out the “sweet easy peelers” from the shopping bag and we rested on the wall having a welcome snack while we waited for the next one. It was a bumpy ride and we got off at the aptly named “half way house” stop to change. I expected an ancient inn at a crossroads but there were only warehouses and a large roundabout. Shane checked his map in case we had leapt off a stop early. The app confirmed we were at the right place . There was no sign of the bus stop we needed that was marked on the app map though. We stood where it indicated and a bus came on time but drove past my hailing hand with the driver shaking her head. It was over 2 miles with no pavements to the marina and we were heavy laden but still the weather was fair. The sign that we were nearing our destination was jolly, pleasing and amusing.

I was very happy to see Bartimaeus at last and looked forward to checking the kettle worked. The marina owner was leaving as we arrived and we were all happy to have a brief greeting and agree to see each other in the morning.

Once we were fuelled and unpacked, I decided to celebrate the discovery of a bottle of beer aboard and relax into the sofa. I didn’t think I had shaken it, but it cascaded with froth over the top when I opened it. I grabbed a cloth then found a gold ladybird was on the counter getting caught in the spillage. While I mopped up, it beat a hasty retreat … Up the glass for a drink, dry feet or camouflage.

I know I should be ready to expect the unexpected by now but this is not ladybird season and they are better known for milking aphids than swilling beer. Once I had rescued the ladybird I could start the ‘cheers’, crisps and chilling. That walk was quite the workout.