Le Clock AnglaisWe fueled on the outskirts of Frome then headed off to Wells. The "Nav" had done her homework and, following her directions, given at intervals through my headphones, we arrived and got parked, after a bit of a tour through the slightly confusing streets, just adjacent to the market square, which was in full swing. Lots of fellow tourists and interesting smells greeted us as we made our way to the Abbey.
Sue had done some research and wanted to see the famous clock tower perform its hourly display. Apparently George Lucas had based many of the Star Wars battle scenes on the spectacular antics of this ancient masterpiece! I was excited and waited impatiently with Sue under the tower, elbowing French school kids out of the way as they turned up en masse and stood in front of us at a minute to the hour, whilst we had been waiting since a quarter to !
At precisely 2 minutes past 12 ( ??? ) a whirring was heard, the clock went "Bing" once, the bloke with the spear jiggled it half heartedly and the one with the sword did nothing! We retreated to the market to the sounds of youthful French sniggers "Le clock Anglais, c'est merde n'est pas?" (excuse my Franglais). Silently agreeing, we found an impressive burger stall, Sue had a cheese burger the size of a small hat, whilst I bought an authentic Cornish pasty.
We found a picnic spot near a church gate where swans ring a bell rope when they want to be fed. Didn't see any swans but were soon besieged by pigeons, with whom we shared our lunch. It wasn't until afterwards we found the notice prohibiting such actions.............. oops!
Fleeing the wrath of the Pigeon Police, we left Wells behind and set off to Weston Super Mare, where Sue had spent some of her schooldays . The journey was uneventful and we arrived at the seaside and discovered a parking area just for motorcycles right on the prom and it was free! It was still warm but with a strong wind coming off the sea and a lot of the substantial beach seemed to be airborne and was sandblasting the holiday makers and us as we made our way along the prom for the obligatory 'pirate and fat lady in a bathing costume' photos on the doomed pier.
The day was whizzing by so, after using the public toilets and chuckling at the notice prohibiting child and foot washing in the sinks, we returned to the Blackbird crunching our (nutless) ice cream cones! Sand is probably good for the digestion.
A couple of hours later saw us entering the town of the famous playwright. One of the great things about motorcycles is you can always get parked approximately where you want. We did so, took some photos, then found a roadside cafe and ordered two lattes to sustain us on the last leg of our journey to my brother's house. I fumbled in my pocket for change, then hastily sought out my thinning wallet when asked for £6.00 !!!!!!! I thought I must have been misunderstood by the exchange student who served me and had booked bed and breakfast!
Time was against us so we were soon back on the road. Guided expertly by my pillion passenger, we arrived in Derby just in time for tea.
To be continued.....
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