You and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate (Day Three)

As skit has pointed out in the comments, I missed talking about our star gazing session. On Sunday night, we bundled up in our warmest attire and went out into the cool and clear night. We went down the One Road of the village a little way until we found a spot clear of artificial lights. We spent a long time with our heads turned upwards, looking at the stars and comparing how many pinpricks of light we could resolve. We managed to fool ourselves into thinking that we could see the Milky Way though it was only the merest hint of light and nowhere near as stunning as it could be. As we looked up, a small, dark body brushed past, through and around our legs. A cat begged our attention and we obliged.

So, the evening came to a close after an episode of Due South and I slept well for a change. I had a marvellous dream that I was let loose on a chocolate shop and ate everything in site. In the morning, skit was not to be found.

I kid. She was around but hadn't slept very well (I stole all her sleep, mwah ha ha ha) and responded badly to my chirpy spirit and needling that morning. I helped out with the breakfast for once (and this is where I apparently burnt the sausages but they were perfect for me) which was a slightly less impressive affair than before (I fried the potatoes from the night before and we also had bacon, sausages and one grilled mushroom each). Then came a shocking piece of organisation as biped and I washed up and cleaned the kitchen while skit did the other rooms producing a clean and tidy cottage by 10am. We didn't even have Once More With Feeling to motivate us.

Quite frankly amazed, we spent our last few moments in the Hobbling Hayloft writing in the visitors' book. Our real names went in there but under the column for where we were from, skit wrote “the internet” which we hope raises an eyebrow or two. As I cleared my things from the bedroom I shared with skit, a face appeared at the window. Being on the first floor, I jumped and gasped: it was skit but how was she flying? Please don't be just like West... I am not sure I could cope.

Of course I had forgotten the exterior stairs by the side of the Hayloft that led up to the window. Skit grinned and said that she'd been waiting all weekend to pull that prank on me.

And then we said our farewells to the cottage. Standing outside the massive door, we had one last photo of the place. And then to the skitmobile once more.

Skit drove us to Weston-Super-Mare to the amazing (though rather downbeat) sounds of the Battlestar Galactica soundtrack (which reminds me- Razer is on tonight!). On the way into the town, we past the helicopter museum and, much more excitingly, the Bakelite museum. Spurning such delights, we continued. To the beach!

Intrigued by the name “Sandy Shores” and not particularly wanting to stop the music, we continued through Weston-Super-Mare through some quite beautiful woodland to... mud. No sand, just mud. So much mud I am surprised there wasn't a statue of Jayne somewhere. Mud forever. And what did we do? Well, we went playing in it. When we started to sink into it, did we turn back? No! When it grew hard to pull one foot out and move on, did we give up? No! When faced with not just mud but pools of water, did we hesitate to wade through? No! Possibly should have though given how my trainers are still horribly dirty and I dread to think what the state of the skitmobile is.

We went back to the front at Weston-Super-Mare and parked after experiencing a roundabout a few times. As you may expect for November, there wasn't much going on. Everything was deserted and the beach was empty (but sandy, not mud). We wandered down to the beach but didn't go far, just under the pier to admire the structure. We then went up onto the pier and philosophised about bunting in the cold wind. The pier was long and empty of life and walking along it gave me post-apocalyptic tingles. At the end of the pier, as if some metaphor for the afterlife, was an all but empty arcade. The lights and sounds of the games were such garish displays of life compared to the grey and bleak outside. Occasionally we would see an attendant gazing roboticly into the distance or the odd zombie muttering “you have to play to win”. I honestly couldn't tell if a clown we saw was real or mechanical.

Skit got into the spirit of funnelling two pence pieces into the machines, causing biped to crow that she had discovered skit's vice (because never have we met anyone as full or virtue and purity as skit...?).

We then went to lunch at a seafront cafe. We became more and more subdued as time passed and we realised that it was the end. I had soup and a smoothie as skit and biped shared soup and a scone with clotted cream with bits in: “ah, real clotted cream!” cried skit as she saw the lumps.

And so we staggered miserably to the end of the weekend. Like the bright bunting flapping in the cold, grey day, we had great memories of the weekend, of our time together relaxing and laughing and eating and walking through caves, mythical lands of fairies and dinosaurs and the golden heaven of the gorge. We had a new friend in Blue and old friends we got to know better in Indy and Sky. We had experiences of villages that liked to burn people and a Doctor that needed killing. We had the staples of prodding and cushions and a bathroom full of Lush products. And then we had the awkward goodbye.

Why are goodbyes so nasty in Real Life when they are epic and beautiful in films? In reality, they are better done fast and without much talking. Which is how we did it, with one last trip in the skitmobile as the minutes to the Paddington train departure ticked away. I got my ticket and biped and I got on the train that was waiting for us and skit drove away.

On the train, biped and I talked television (predictably) and a few text messages were passed between me and skit who had had to go back to the Hobbling Hayloft to (successfully) reclaim forgotten cheese and lamb. We passed yawns back and forth (*yawn*) and our goodbye seemed to dissolve back to the normal state of affairs... because it isn't goodbye with Hobblings. It is just “see you later” on the board, with emails, skype, letters/pads or text messages. It's not even “see you later” really.

It's thank bob we're here for each other. Always.