Left Stratford to head back the way we came up to Warwick, quite nice to see the reverse version of our journey; we're literally going down memory lane in some respect. Moored up on a dozy bank in the middle of nowhere, when the sun was setting it was nothing short of idyllic. Except for the bloated carcass of a muntjac gently brushing against the side of our boat. I've already had the wonderful job of pushing away with a large pole, its now drifted into the reeds and with any luck it won't be round next morning.
Finished reading The Cider House Rules this afternoon too, it was such a charming read. I just love the way John Irving writes, transcendence and memory always seems to be at the forefront of writing and its a joy to read something where everything feels considered and purposeful. His stories are always about something that all of us get: a life. He's so in tune with that fact that its impossible not to be compelled to read until the final page about the life and death of his characters. His books may be beefy, but they are excellent reads.
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