So: the DRZ and I did a brief round-trip of England this weekend, to attend the baptism of Alexandra Grace Palmer, the newly minted daughter of friends for whom I had the honour of serving as best man back in – what – 1999?

Setting out on Saturday at 1030 I was already late for a family dinner in Worcester, but having warned them of my late arrival decided that quality of travel should exceed quantity of speed, howeversomuch I might accidently break local speed limits when actually riding.

Thus regular safety-breaks were dictated, the first being a stop at Rollright stones to see if Jane might be wardening, which she was! A brief chance to catch-up and then roll-on the throttle, next stop being in Worcester at a secret family restaurant, arriving in time for spotted dick and custard, ie: dessert. Excellent nosh, and a final chance to bid the US-bound sister (and her Eng Lit Professor husband) adieu.

Hmm. That reminds me, I think Frank still has my copy of Ender’s Game?

Finally: M5, M6, and lo! I was in Preston.

I checked-in to the hotel, had a bar/meal with G&R – who were greatly helping my weekend by hauling the heavy, “try to look pretty” bits of my luggage, and then crashed-out for an 0700 wakeup.

I could go into depth for the sunday church service, but I won’t. There are pictures at [www.crypticide.com] which do a better job than I of describing the beautifully refurbished church, the baby and proud parents, the Father’s Father standing-in for the former as the crucifix-bearing server, the Mother’s Mother puttering-about at speed amongst the congregation, the high-church organ-led service (including an unscheduled interlude with The Rimmer Children) – and all the friends gathered around merrily snapping pictures and nibbling scones before going off to the regular local Italian restaurant for a celebratory lunch.

All-in-all it was lovely. I wish it could be bottled. Alas these things draw to a natural close, and so I left for home at 7:30pm.

I arrived home at five past midnight, via a chilly, damp, and almost totally vacant motorway network.