JC
After George vanished I didn’t spot him for at least twenty minutes. I was really starting to worry that I was the only one on the land with a phone and it was down to me to call for help if he really was in serious trouble. I ran back up to the car park with my big lens and scanned the water for any sign of him swimming out the back. If something bad had happened I did not want to live with the guilt of not making a phone call to the Coast Guard although I very much doubt there was much they could have done in these conditions. I was right on the verge of dialling 999 when thankfully I spotted Muzza signalling that he was safe.
The next morning the boys dropped me at Bodmin train station for the journey home. I had made it half an hour towards Plymouth when mysteriously the train ground to a halt on the tracks. This time the signals had been struck by lightning causing another massive delay. When I finally made it to Plymouth two hours later, I’d just missed the fast train back to Southampton meaning more delays and several more stops than anticipated. The last straw came when I eventually made it onto the Isle of Wight, well into the hours of darkness and jumped into my car for the last leg home. Five minutes down the road a drunken man staggered from the pavement right in front of me. I managed to swerve and avoid him by inches since luckily there was no oncoming traffic on the other side of the street. All I could do was think about that almost fatal miss – now that really would have been an horrific way to finish such a wild road trip.
