Not booting it to the boot

Up in Edgware, having slept quite heavily. Breakfast with Mum, and I replaced our Friday list of things, with a new list of Mason related tasks now with fewer things on it. I researched couriering ashes to California. Eye-watering expenses, and nothing can be done till the death certificate is issued anyhow, and that won't be for months potentially. We drove off to Edgware and took seven big bags of clothes to the charity shop. While Mum finds this sad, there is at least the idea they are going to a very good cause. From there back home, and thence to The Waggon and Horses, arriving a bit later than usual, had lunch and some Guinness. Steve and Paul at the bar chatting to mum and I cheerily, and inviting her to sit with them next time she comes. Mum made me laugh mishearing on of the staff talking about duck wraps, as lab rats.

Fond farewells with Mum, then I set off at 2:30. With assorted rail problems, having to go via Brighton, where I had to change to bus travel, it took me four hours to travel the 63 miles (as the crow flies) -- this means I made slightly less than 16 miles progress an hour on average.  I was an hour late for our meal in the Boot, where Pat and Maureen, whose birthday it is this weekend were ensconced with Lorraine, plus Adele and Patrick, whose birthday it was today, and Steve there too. A plateful of fish and chips and a glass or two of Mother in law helped smooth my mood. Pat had been given a beer limit by Maureen and Lorraine, but I bought him a zero percent Guinness, which he augmented by discreetly necking the birthday boy's beer. I walked him out to the car later, and he was listing to starboard a bit. 

I went back in and had another drink with Adele, Patrick and Steve, and we had a lovely time planning enormous shows in our imagination, and tasking Adele with doing the historical research. All cheery stuff. I walked home before ten listening to the sea crashing on the shore. Home again.