Dear Readers, what a day I've had!
I will admit, I was rather scared as I floated away from Husborne Crawley, hanging onto the Altar Stone of a helium-filled Stonehenge. I clung on as the wind swung unexpectedly from to the south, and I was driven along a route parallel to the M1.
It was a terrible night. Clinging to my stone, I was drenched with rain, buffeted by winds and terrified that there might be inflatable spirits among those inflatable stones. At a height of 5,000 feet above the East Midlands, I narrowly missed the Northampton Lighthouse as dawn broke, and continued towards Market Harborough. Crossing the Welland Valley, I could sense that the replica stone circle was descending gently, as the helium escaped.
I landed in the middle of the town of Coalville - a place of whose inhabitants Drayton had previously told me, in hushed tones of dread and horror. The locals, assuming I was an alien who had crashed a megalithic space-craft, went off to get the necessary implements for burning me. But as they surrounded me with pitchforks, I was rescued by a kind woman riding a tandem.
Outrunning the Coalvillians, we pedalled back to her house in a village in Leicester's northern suburbs, where Susan kindly gave me lunch. She explained that she was riding a tandem on her own because her former boyfriend left her. Apparently her hobbies of train-spotting, double-entry book-keeping and Unix systems administration had got on his nerves.
After a blissful afternoon, sharing dreams, hopes and kisses, she ran me down to Leicester for the train, and so I am home. But we have exchanged phone numbers and Twitter accounts, and agreed to meet again next week. I am spell-bound by our instant attraction, and indeed so is she.
Wouldn't you agree, maybe Sue and me have a Groby kind of love?