P sat up in the single bed next to mine and complained of a hangover. He was moody enough at the best of times so I wasn’t prepared to hang around to see how he would behave with a sore head. I wondered whether his wife would look after him, but she just flitted in and out of the room in her new shiny black jacket and left him to it. My escape was to go for a run.
My route took me along the cycle paths and up into the hills, where I hoped to meet EH. I carried the house phone just in case anyone needed to contact me. All was gong well until I got lost. One minute I was scampering across newly sown lawns on a housing estate. The next I was sliding down a polished rock outcrop that hung over a freezing, rough sea. When the phone fell out of my hands and crashed into the waves below, I realised I was in severe danger of suffering the same fate.
Then I lost my sight. This was it. I really thought that I was going to die.
Luckily a walker found me stumbling across the moorland and carried me off to a mountain hostel. When I regained my sight, and the first person that I saw was JH, I knew that I had been saved.