There is no saying wether this post will be any better - the reason for this bout of tired-head-fuzziness, you will find out later on in this post...
But it wouldn't feel like England if we didn't have the rain, and I wouldn't feel English if I had no weather issues to tell you about!
The next day we saw our opportunity in a break in the clouds and had a breezy wander around West Kirby Marina:
...before hitting the road again to catch up with more friends in Bristol.
This group of friends we hadn't seen since we all lived in Sevilla a couple of years ago.
They had all moved back to the UK after the programme they - and T - were working on finished. It was strange seeing them all in this - cooler - setting!
From here we meandered onto a sunny Croyde, Devon.
So we spent 30 minutes travelling a couple of kilometres...
Not sure if it was the fire or burglar alarm, we lay there for a while, coming too, hoping it would be turned off.
We decided we should really get up in case it was a fire alarm.
Scrabbling for clothes, we then left our room, locking the door behind us, as we had all our worldy possessions in the room and weren't sure whether it was a burglar alarm, or thinking maybe someone had set the fire alarm off so they could get us all out of our rooms and then clear our belongings...
We stepped outside into the cool night air, the other residents already outside.
There was no member of staff at the hotel it transpired, so someone rang the emergency contact number stuck to the front door.
We tried again.
The woman doing all the calling then rang the fire brigade, who came out.
As we shivered outside they checked the building.
They then checked the bedrooms...
Our room was at the front of the building, and was just above where we were all stood.
As a fireman was asking us if any of us had locked our rooms, T and I were just handing him the key, the sound of breaking wood floated down to where we were stood.
"I have the key to room 3." the fireman said over the radio.
The reply came: "Too late, we're in room 3."
That sound of splitting wood would have been our door then.
The sound of splintering wood.
A few minutes later, a head popped through the front door.
We were allowed back into the warmth of the bar area, and after another thirty minutes we were told we could go back to our rooms.
All the time the firemen had tried various contact numbers for hotel staff, but none were successful.