Europe, the Final Frontier.
These are the voyages of the Flying-Brick ‘Gnome’. A miniature home on wheels...
Chapter 6: Winter is Coming.
After experiencing my usual haute petite cuisine in the belly of the Gnome, it was time to leave the Lot.
We were to head north towards the Loire Valley, an area renowned for its castles, its wine and its artichokes. I was hoping that artichoke wine wasn't a thing...
The news that Wales was soon to lock down, independently of England, was potentially a severe blow to us. Two of my three UK-resident offspring (plus one smaller sized sprogg) lived in Wales, and we were desperate to see them. It's all in the genes you know.
This shutdown came as no surprise, it was a matter of when, not if. The fact that it was to start on the day of our arrival probably did not come into their deliberations. It was also as clear as day that England would have to go the same way. Their King of the Dis-United Kingdom, Emperor Boris, son of Stanley, son of John, had to decide how many old people could be thrown under the bus before the inevitable U-turn. Sadly it would prove to be quite a few thousand but, as is often pointed out, we are all going to die someday anyway. Yeah, thanks for that.
Not that the UK was on its own in this mess. We also knew that France was heading the same way, we only awaited President Manual Mach-One to make the same decision, after spending some time with pointless curfews and such. These milder sanctions simply do not work against this highly contagious agent. There are several theories as to why this should be, but we were soon to find out ourselves, upon our return from the UK. We would see first hand how the best laid plans can fail utterly.
A bit like ours really...
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