Middle of nowhere

The middle of nowhere is the perfect description of where we are. The 25 km board being the sole clue. My idea of "taking in" rivers on this trip has proved to be one of my least inspired. Yesterday we were almost praying to encounter groups of hippo's to relieve the interminable boredom, or even an elephant or two would have sufficed.

This morning is very windy, confirming our bus ride to Boston decision as a good one. Last night I watched a TV documentary on the wartime blitz from survivors recollections and photo's. They are all now in their 90's and 100's, Spitfire pilots, Firemen, Housewives, Mothers, Great Grandmothers and the like, all dragged into a war they could not avoid, but all had tales of great courage to tell. They were not all from London, but places not immediately associated with the blitz, like Bristol, Birmingham and Cardiff. I will never moan about my "misfortunes" again and retired to bed very humbled, remembering my mum and dad were inevitably involved but kept their memories and heroics to themselves . Inevitably I awoke early having suffered nightmares and disturbed sleep.

The bus ride was fast, but the scenery was not too much of an improvement over that from the boat, but for the RAF base and an adjacent museum with a Lightening  fighter out front. Lynne "forgot" her bus pass and was charged £4.50 for her trip,whilst mine was free.

Boston is a poor mans Lincoln. History but without the class. The River Witham passes straight through the middle but today it was merely a stream due to low tide. We noted very few speak English there. The huge Botolph's church,or The Stump, as it is locally known, dominates the town.

The Pugh carvings date from the 13th century.