This is what you get if you go out to Bewdley for a lovely meal with friends and don’t pre-book a taxi home…
And only, of course, if this leads to the majority of taxi drivers deciding to forgo the night’s fares to avoid the possibility of being spot checked.
And only, of course, if all those out for that lovely meal have had a little too much wine / cider / beer with said meal.
And only, of course if they don’t realise until they are on the street edge wondering, “where did all the taxis go?”
And only, of course, if by that point it is far too late to call a phone call reasonable.
It’s 4 miles back from Bewdley. We know. Cos we walked it that night.
Thank heavens to Betsy it wasn’t raining – or someone would have been rudely awakened and harangued for a lift!
This foot was the aftermath. And the other one was pretty similar. That and some very painful ankles the next day. And a week of tiredness and beyond.
Good meal tho!
And I don’t think my stopping to water the trees in the churchyard is a sin, right??
p.s. off to the Isle of Man for 10 days now to play with some Manx cats…