They were off to Taunton in a few weeks. About ten miles from my Somerset cottage. Janet and Max. Had heard of my village. Even visited. Chance meeting in a camp kitchen. I’d wandered in for the usual evening recce. Power point for the netbook. Kettle or microwave for refreshments and breakfast the next day. They were with friends. Enjoying Friday night nibbles. Gathering at the site to celebrate Roz’s birthday the next evening.
And, I gathered, we were actually in Somerset. Queensland. I’d seen Lake Somerset on the map. North west of Brisbane. And my final destination in Australia would be the town of Somerset on the island of Tasmania. But no idea there was a region of the same name. Until I stumbled across a sign at the side of the road. The previous day.
