Down and across Wales we’ve plunged. The countryside is so green and lush and inviting, but it’s so hard to get used to the cars and noise and speed. I wish we would stop more. I long to look in the windows of the houses and listen to the people talk. What do they do every day? Who is living in all those houses?
But we’re pressing on to Bompie’s because Bompie hasn’t been well and everyone is worried now, and it all scares me half to death. Before I was just scared about seeing Bompie and what that would mean, but now I’m afraid he won’t even be alive when we get there, and that would be much, much worse.
We’ve stopped now at a little inn in a dark, quiet village and I’m going back downstairs now to listen to the people talk.