Awake on our last morning in Oxwich to a cooler cloudy day, but no rain. After breakfast, we packed out bags loaded the car and checked out. After a short walk on the beach we were on the road by ten thirty, and home by twelve thirty, with all the domestic post-holiday tasks to do. Fortunately it didn't rain, and by mid afternoon a load of washing was blowing dry in the wind.
Clare had booked a consultation with a homeopath living in Thornhill at five, so we had another half hour journey in the car to reach there and find the place. Near to the housing area where the consultant lives is a large open green space with a couple of football pitches, and an expanse of woodland which runs all the way up to the M4 motorway. I parked there and walked for an hour around the woodland and the pitches for my daily exercise quota, then collected Clare for the return journey. She cooked us a comforting lentil dish with veggies for supper.
I was too tired to do much after three hours of the day spent driving, so I spent the evening binge watching 'Spiral of Lies', the latest French crimmie to appear on Walter presents. An interesting story of unforeseen tragic consequences arising from a falsified cover-up story given by a victim who escapes a serial killer, and cannot escape further consequences sixteen years later. A moral fable, sort of
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