The gentleman in the corner of the cafe, she explained, used to live with her. She’d implied they were divorced but he was actually her brother. Small rural town. The sign outside described the establishment as a Mexican restaurant, but they still offered my much favoured pancake stack for breakfast. Filling but not too stodgy for cycling.
I’d reached Camp Wood shortly after sunset the previous day. Hoping to find a landline to receive an early morning call from Emma at BBC Somerset to record an interview for her Christmas Eve show. But to no avail. Struggling almost as much to get a message to her to explain we’d have to reschedule. Options for which weren’t looking good.
Tags: Camp Wood
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