I’m sitting in the car, parked by a back road, next p her speed, and decide when I expect to see her. As the moment approaches, the expectation builds. It’s a bit like waiting for the tour de France, except at 2mph rather than 30. And there’s no advertising procession beforehand. But there’s the same growing anticipation.Sometimes I walk out to meet her. I strain my eyes for a glimpse of red cagoule in the distance beyond the trees or shops or traffic. Sometimes I’ve just caught sight of a pillar box and experienced a moment of misguided joy (we’ve all had those, haven’t we, brothers and sisters).Waiting for Janet. When’s she coming through? She’ll be coming at walking pace, a humble mode of transport. Multiply this by thousands of bystanders in Jerusalem, and you’ve got the anticipation before Jesus rides in, maybe rather more like the Tour de France than me waiting for Janet. But the crowd changed their minds. Or maybe it’s just that other voices shouted louder later on. The people have spoken. Sometimes they speak with love and sometimes with hate.Today is a long day for Janet: extra time and extra distance on the day because of a visit to the Eden Project. I think it must have been worth it, though. Its a treasure trove of gardens and flowers and art and adventures and economics and ecology. It is world class.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’m sitting in the car, parked by a back road, next p her speed, and decide when I expect to see her. As the moment approaches, the expectation builds. It’s a bit like waiting for the tour de France, except at 2mph rather than 30. And there’s no advertising procession beforehand. But there’s the same … <\/p>\n