Out on a Lymington

So, I'm back in God's own country, after audaciously travelling less than two hours to the Big Smoke. I think I may have failed to clarify a few weeks ago that the Oxfam work I was doing came to an end as the commute was impractical given home life. Enough said.
I've just spent a couple of days in London doing work for the BBC, freelancing in the newsroom at the World Service, where I had a thoroughly fabulous time. It was really good to be back in the thick of things, using my brain and getting mental stimulation from like-minded people.
The car has now been un-clamped after Jon decided it was probably better to pay for it to be removed than try and remove the clamp and the wheel himself, which is a small relief. It had been clamped because it wasn't showing the necessary authorisation on Sunday morning as the sticker allowing us to park in that space had temporarily ended up in the van that was being used to transport our furniture which, at the time of the clamping was on the other side of Lymington. Danelle, you asked what clamping was. This is when they put a heavy metal contraption on your wheel which prevents you from moving the car and then charge you $250 for the privilege of removing it.
Little else to report, aside from the fact that it seems to be sunny here today, which is about flipping time after a rubbish summer. And, despite the occasional days of sun, no I still haven't learnt to sail. Oh well, perhaps I never will. Now I know how football widows feel; only I bet most of their other halfs don't work at football clubs as well.
Bitter, moi? Surely not.....