Bloody satellite navigation system! We were trying to get out of London to the south west and the blasted thing directed us right into the heart of London. It was from here on in that we called it “The Mole” what with her annoyingly pleasant pommy accent. I was originally a bit peeved that Net had booked a small car (a VW Golf) but in the tight streets of London I was glad cos we needed the turning room a couple of times after going down the wrong streets, cursing the Mole at the same time, so well done Netty. In the end, after much swearing and tempers rising we got out of London and traveled down the M something to Westbury. On our way we topped a rise and there was Stonehenge, straight out
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