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Things I used to do

Hello.

When you describe things from the past, I’m often met with:

“Were you mad?”

I’d done a fair amount of mountain climbing (in the winter), long distance cycling and a ridiculous amount of walking. I’m often blase in my response but when I think about these two and a half years of commuting, I know it was truly mad. As mad as the mad hatter’s eccentric aunt.

Of course, London has lots of great places and great people. This just describes my reactions to being constantly stuck in a car in the same places.

It ended when I knew the beast was getting serious. But MS or not, I’m so glad I stopped the mad journey.

Best wishes, Steve.

Thoroughly enjoyed that Steve.

My husband came from Brockley. All those places you wrote…his mother came from Ladywell, he was born in Lewisham, Hithergreen, they were all places he would mention when we first met. His journeys to me in Hailsham, were like yours in reverse, as he began to visit me more frequently. Weekends weren’t enough and so began the mid week journey for him from London. Straight from the garage in Brockley where he worked, in the home stretch of Southborough, Tunbridge, Uckfield and getting to me about 8.30 or later, depending on traffic and how his battered old Cortina was behaving. Then leaving Sussex next morning at ungodly hours, to do the return journey and be at work for 9am.

Oh the memories! Everyone thought he was mad too. It all came to a head one bank holiday weekend, two months later, when he declared his love for me, phoned his boss and resigned. We’ve been together since. They also thought that was mad. Knowing each other for two months, they were so sure it wouldn’t work. Gave it six months.

Thirty years ago. :slight_smile:

Thanks for the memories Steve. x

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You don’t regard the M25 as the road to hell?

I met a driving instructor who used to be a traffic policeman. He told me that the M25 shouldn’t be called a Motorway, it belonged on a class by itself.

Regards,

Anthony

Poppy, that’s a beautiful tale. Yes, madness took a hold of us.