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I took Ernie up the Gorge first thing as he wanted to go to the shop that sold fossils.
Catie had asked him to count how many different species of flower he saw on the walk and he diligently took on this task. Getting to 200 by the time we got to Gough's cave. It's fun taking time out to look at stuff you wouldn't usually look at. he was delighted to see this snail happily sitting in the middle of a flower.
In turn I pointed out all the places that had changed since I lived here between 40 and 50 years ago. The phone box I sometimes rang my first girlfriend from (not sure why, we had a phone in our house) was still there, but it doesn't have a phone in it any more, just some painted stones. I seem to remember my girlfriend also once slapped me across the face by that phone box, hard enough for me to fall over. I wonder what I had done. I didn't tell Ernie that.
We were so early that not much was open up the Gorge. I took him to look at the entrance to Gough's cave. There was a branch lying by a bin and he asked if that was a bone from caveman times. I said it was unlikely that it would have sat there unnoticed until now.
The cave guides were getting ready to open up. I thought about telling them that I used to do their job 40 years ago (I am pretty sure I was there in the spring of 1986 in fact). The cave guide room seemed to be in a different place than I remembered. Perhaps my memory was failing me. But when I looked at where I recalled the door being, you could see the outline of a bricked up doorway. I may be the only tourist to have taken a photo of that. Everything changes.
Later we'd pass the primary school where I was a pupil 50 years ago (which made me feel like a fucking ghost). The entrance we used to use to get into the playground was also bricked up. It feels like Cheddar is so ashamed of me that they are bricking up my past.
To Wells for lunch, with my niece and my two great-nieces, one of whom cries and runs away every time she sees me (she is 28 years old) and the other seems to like me well enough. Or at least stares at me a lot. I presume in wonder at my beauty. Rather than trying to work out what this weird hairy creature is.
The people of Wells were very excited too to have a celebrity in their midst. One man stopped in the street and said "It's one of the comedians - Richard Herring". I said Hello to him quite cheerily, but he then just stared at me. I presume in wonder at my beauty. Though I wondered if he might be planning an attack.
After lunch, walking back to our car, another man shouted at me "You're off the telly." Which is true if you have a long memory. Again I said hello, but carried on my way. My mum though stopped to talk to him. He told her he didn't know what my name was and so she told him and told him I was in a double act in the 1990s, which I don't think he was aware of. At least the first guy had known my name. Even if he did look like he was considering murdering me. It's still nice when they know your name. Imagine being murdered by someone who only vaguely recognises you. That would be embarrassing.
Mum seemed chuffed that the second, possibly crazy, man had recognised my face, even though he had no idea who I was. It's nice to have made her proud. Once every 58 years isn't bad.
Most of the people of Wells ignored me though, because there was a real star in the city today. The police car from Hot Fuzz was parked up in the town square. I can't compete with that.
