Pilning Travel Blog› entry 27 of 37 › view all entries
So now that I'd done everything I could on the money I had, and my credit card was dying a death of a thousand screams, I was on a train north, out of the continent and across the water, bound for London.
Obviously there was a shuffle at the channel -from train to ferry and back to train, but it was all good.
Actually, I was thrilled to see Dover's white cliffs as the ferry came close to the port. No-one was there to greet me but it meant that I was only a couple of hours away from some bevvies with mates.
British rail did it's thing and I soon found myself swapping stations again, this time to catch the train to take me back south to Bristol. From there I'd have to bus it out to Pilning.
I wondered what everyone would have to say as I waltzed back into the garage. We hadn't been gone for the 3 months we thought we would, and of course Darryn had returned a week ago, whilst I opted to complete my exploration of the "homeland", Switzerland.
Still, it was going to be odd returning to the garage, much was up in the air when we had left. The management was not good, the place was on the market to be sold, everyone was unsure about their future, whether it was as an employee or as Rachel was, a tenant in the flats.
I have to admit I was looking forward to seeing her again though.
When the train rolled into Bristol Temple Meads station I had to get across the city to the bus terminal. Pilning/Severn Beach only had 2 busses in and out of Bristol each day and I had missed them.
I decided to take the one that got me to the closest point and I'd hike from there. It was only going to be about 10 miles I suppose and one thing the past 5 weeks had made me good at, was throwing my pack on my back and getting a walk on.
When the bus driver dumped me at the edge of Bristol I set a cracking pace in the afternoon sun. I didn't bother sticking my thumb out and trying for a lift as I had to cross a few major routes and doubted anyone would be going out to Pilning.
After about 20 minutes I had crossed the motorways and was just getting my rhythm back when a car pulled alongside and the old chap asked me if I wanted in. I told him I was heading to the garage and he said he knew the kiwi lad that worked there. I told him that was my mate and a few minutes after that I thianked the bloke and strode into the workshop to a chorus of cheery greetings.
Ahhh, how perfect!
That night we had a few beers and unpacked all the trinkets I'd bought. Everyone was MOST amused by my ethnic get-up from Morocco. I told them a few of my tales in between changing my costumes and then Tony suggested we go to the pub. Yeah I had no dosh but tomorrow I'd get on the phone to the Old Man back in NZ and get him to transfer a good wad of cash from one account to the other for me and life would be sweet again. This night the beers were on all my chums!