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Buddy road chat

Twice this week I have been a passenger on long car journeys largely spent in conversation with a friend who was the  driver. There is  something about a such a journey that is conducive to a deeper conversation. In both cases the journeys were blighted by traffic jams that put at least another hour on the journey but this mattered not. The point is that you are not interrupted, not by waiters in a restaurant, the phone, by the insistent text or email, by a domestic chore. For once you are in your own place and time warp and but for the navigational feature on the mobile no one would know your location. It occurs to me that for strategic planning a chairman and MD could do worse than to make a 3 hour car journey together.

It’s true that on the second journey I followed desultorily the Test on TMS but with bad weather predicted this will probably drift into a draw. Otherwise we spoke of anything and everything. In both cases I will not reveal the contents but the first was senior executive on the Rust and when the question was posed what sort of publication will we be in 2 years time we were brimful with ideas. We are always looking to recruit and I understand a travel correspondent specialising in high end cruising will be joining the team in December. The purpose of my second journey was also Rust-orientated. Melanie Gay has asked me to join her in her annual stay at Menabilly. This is a homage to Daphne Du Maurer as Melanie rents a cottage on the Menabilly Estate. As I type this I am looking over Polridmouth Cove listening to the rhythmic undulating breaking of the waves at Polridmouth Cove where Rebecca met her end and in sight is the boathouse where she conducted her affaire. It’s a peaceful paradise and I feel very honoured to be invited.

I did watch the first  game of the Euros and afterwards on the news the scenes at Marseilles centre. For 50 years English yobs have even besmirching tournaments and the rest of Europe must he hoping that a Brexit vote will result in these vandals and thugs who always blame the policing might be prevented from visiting their shores almost as fervently as Nigel Farrage’s insistence that little Englander must have tighter border controls to protect our noble country.

About Oliver Fortune

A doctor formerly specialising in sexual health, Oliver has written widely on matters relating to sex, relationships and counselling. He is divorced and has one daughter. He is a keen skier and mountain biker. More Posts