Hm. I might be mildly beered up, slightly sunburned and cheered by the discovery of sloes in the wilderness at $work.
I also have mixed emotions, as they say, in the direct aftermath of yon motorway programme. About halfway through, some woman who lives in Warrington and drives an Alfa started on concerning writing a story in her head about liking
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At least, that's the book I have/had. Features the adventures of Sir Humphrey ffried-Fischer and the sage Dreikleinen.
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Elevating the London Box would be a start. You'd create a fresh new ghetto, and if you jigged your blitz correctly you could start it with brickwork. Hell, let's be honest: if you were to start early enough, you could have zeppelins clear swathes of the sarf for later reconstruction.
Obviously a Beeching Bereft Britannia and the Capital's Concentric Carriageways need a handful of other counterparts. Civil Aviation could have developed very differently if Balfour had stolen another Aerodrome.
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I get that at M5 J11a southbound. What if I didn't turn off for work that day, and just kept going for Exeter, and spent the rest of my life hiding out in Devon and Cornwall, or got a ferry to France, or a cargo ship to America? I certainly reckon I could get as far as South Africa before my car and money gave up. I wonder if I could make a living as an open-source PC repair trainer for a charity in Kenya? Assuming I didn't die of being a redhead in the sun.
I presume it's rather like the lemming instinct to wonder what it would be like to partake in tombstoning. So far the need to continue paying the bills to support my family has exceeded my curiosity. Still, I could always see how many "next junctions" I could "proceed" to before I gave in to duty. Haven't even got to 12 yet.
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