We arrived in Bampton Grange just as the last of the daylight was fading. No time to check out the phone booth in nearby Bampton whence Withnail called his agent, alas.
It was a pretty sunset, but as people kept telling me as soon as they saw me, I was shattered.
Instead of asking for the finest wines known to humanity at our inn, I asked for soup and only barely managed to stay awake and upright while eating it.
The inn’s pub did have this Withnail and I display, though.
And the next morning we passed this abandoned farm, which is not Uncle Monty’s holiday cottage, but it looked pretty similar.
All in all, we were not quite so miserable as Marwood and Withnail, but we could certainly understand their plight.
(If you don’t understand all these references, you likely haven’t seen Withnail and I. In that case, just click through to another entry. It’s a rather bleak film that I don’t think would work for a lot of this blog’s potential readership. Those who have seen and loved it, however, this one’s for you!)