A Thousand Miles of History XXXXIV: Dog-sick with ice cream

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

By late afternoon I was flagging. We had been on the road for a mere six days, and although we never rush and we take our time at each of the sites we visit, we don’t stop either. It is easy to drive the short hops between sites, staying alert for obscure turnings, the perils of road-hogging sheep and lanes so narrow the hedges either side brush the car doors. But, after a few days, the longer stretches get tiring unless you are planning on stopping along the way, for that breaks the journey into bite-sized pieces and gives you a chance to stretch your legs.

My navigator keeps an eye on me though. “Fancy an ice-cream?” he said, casting a critical eye over his driver. Well, as it was rush hour and the roads were busy, and as the sea was only two or three miles to my right…

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