As we walked down the lane where the wind bends the trees west, I said to Mike:
“Travelling from Devon to Bristol doesn’t seem a long way now. A hundred miles, that’s two hours by car, and twice that by train. But what happens when the oil runs out?”
It could take days to reach my family in Bristol (my girls, my sister, her girls). Let alone London (mother, father).
In my mind’s eye, I see corroded petrol pumps, and military guards at the train station preventing travel.
“It’s like a disaster movie in my head,” I said. “And the thing is, it could be true.”
“The real disaster is not enjoying what you have now,” said Mike.
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