en-es  REFLECTIONS VI
REFLEXIONES

•Una nota biográfica sobre el valor de la vida por Kim.
por Kim

Parte VI.

Habíamos dormido mucho y esta mañana, nos despertamos alrededor de las 9:45am. Nuestro amigo el granjero golpeó a la ventana a las 10 para preguntar por el éxito del senderismo, y para comprobar que no nos habímos perdido-lo que, claro, hicimos pero mantuvimos en secreto. Pasamos las dos horas siguientes limpiando -Steve trabajó en el interior del coche y yo me concentré en el exterior de las botas de senderismo que estaban cubiertas de barro.
El hecho de que no fuéramos a caminar hoy resultó ser una buena decisión, por dos razones. La más evidente era que los dos estabamos sufriendo con ampollas dolorosas. La otra razón no tan evidente era que senderistas de domingo inundaron la región, algo que siempre queríamos evitar a toda costa.
Nos dirigimos a otra parte de los páramos, pasamos por Broughton y nos detuvimos en el Black Horse, un pub dirigido por un hombre encantador que se parecía un poco al comediante británico Ronnie Corbett sin gafas y todos tuvimos una buena charla. Su nombre era Tony y nos dijo que James Cook había asistido a una escuela en el pueblo de Great Ayton, a solo unos 10 minutos en coche de su pub. Esto era interesante para nosotros, ya que en Australia, vivimos muy cerca del sitio donde Cook vió la costa de Australia por primera vez y el Consejo del Condado usa su retrato como símbolo.
Saliendo de Broughton, conducimos hacia Farndale Moor. Esto era exactamente cómo esperaba que fueran los páramos -sin granjas, cielos grises y una espesa moqueta de brezo púrpura en todas partes y la carretera estaba bordeada de nieve. Fue aquí donde deseamos acampar por la noche. ¡También fue el lugar donde descubrimos que no habíamos recargado el armario de botellas! ¡¡¡Oh no!!! El whisky nos mantenía calientes por las noches. Perdimos la hora siguiente (y un cuarto de tanque de gasolina) conduciendo frenéticamente de ciudad a ciudad. ¡Nada! Finalmente habíamos conducido demasiado lejos para volver entonces nos instalamos en la cima de Goathland Moor. Allí empezó a caer aguanieve; la nieve estaba en camino.
Durmiendo mucho otra vez la mañana siguiente, nos despertamos sintiéndonos muy "calentitos" de verdad; los sacos de dormir realmente nos habían hecho sentir confortables. Tomamos una cerveza en un hotel en Goathland. Ahora, tengo que explicar porque siempre frecuentabamos los pubs En Gran Bretaña son una institución y lugares muy sociales. Eran buen sitio para conocer a los lugareños que probaron ser una fuente de conocimiento de su entorno y así fueron muy instructivos para nosotros.
También, casi cada pub era gloriosamente pintoresco con largas entradas bajas y vigas en el techo, todo de un periodo extinto. Al momento de escribir, había una ley que limitaba las horas de apertura de los establecimientos públicos. Abrían a la 11 de la mañana, cerraban a las 3, después reabrían a las 6 de la tarde sólo para finalmente cerrar a las 11 de la noche. Bueno, en el pub de Goathland, bebímos una cerveza y jugamos un par de partidas de dardos. Steve había escrito en el diario que ganó una y que gané la siguiente por suerte. ¡Qué terrible pobre perdedor!
Al salir del pub, nos dirigimos a la aldea de Pickering para comprar algunos suministros, especialmente un poco de whisky escocés, antes de dirigirnos hacia el área del páramo costero con la intención de hacer una caminata al día siguiente. Condujimos a través de una hermosa zona de bosque y decidimos acampar en el Bosque Broxa a unos 210 metros por encima del paisaje circundante. Había vistas magníficas desde donde estábamos acampados pero, en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, nos envolvió una niebla como una auténtica "sopa de guisantes". Me instalé a cocinar hamburguesas a mi manera, causando que un Steve muy hambriento salivara. Nuestra hambre era tan intensa que una lata de comida para perros lo habría hecho salivar.
Despertandonos, la mañana siguiente, descubrimos que la niebla, si acaso, se había hecho más gruesa, reduciendo la visibilidad para conducir a unos 15 pies. Visitamos la ciudad marítima de Staithes, que se traduce del inglés antiguo como ''el sitio de desembarco'', donde James Cook hizo su primer encuentro con el mar.
Continuamos donde queríamos acampar fuera de Daddry Shields, como había empezado a nevar, y las carreteras parecían inquietantes. Incluso en toda la penumbra, hay tanta belleza en el panorama británico que simplemente no podía encontrar palabras para describirlo. Esa noche la pasamos escuchando la BBC y el empeoramiento de la situación entre Libia y Estados Unidos, ambos empezamos a preocuparnos por nuestros planes de viajar por África. Ya sabíamos que dos turistas británicos fueron apuñalados en Marruecos, uno de ellos murió. Entonces, esa noche llegaron informes de que los estadounidenses bombardearon Libia hiriendo a los dos hijos de Gadafi y matando a su hija adoptiva. ¡Nadie sabía lo que eso provocaría! Los F-111 despegaron de las bases británicas, por lo que podríamos esperar acciones terroristas en Londres como represalia.
Luego, a las 11 de la noche, oímos que un empleado de la embajada estadounidense resultó herido en Jartum cuando le dispararon cinco tiros a su automóvil. Fue trasladado en avión a un hospital en Arabia Saudita y hubía informes no confirmados de que despues había muerto. Mientras tanto, 2.000 manifestantes se dirigían a la embajada de los Estados Unidos en Túnez.
Nos despertamos y descubrimos que la nieve había dejado de caer. Al preguntar en un pub local sobre las condiciones de la carretera, nos aseguraron que eran transitables, aunque cuando llegamos al paso elevado la nieve era profunda, y el resplandor era extremo. Al encontrarnos el Muro de Adriano, no pudimos evitar detenernos y echar un vistazo. Esta es una de las ruinas romanas más famosas del Reino Unido. Fue bastante divertido ver lo que originalmente tenía unos 4 metros de altura y no parecía nada más que una valla. Eso, supimos, se debía no solo al aumento de la tierra de alrededor, sino a que los lugareños quitaban piedras del muro para construir sus casas.
Decidimos acomodarnos por la noche cerca de uno de los fuertes del muro. En cuanto a la crisis de Libia, había informes de tiros alrededor del complejo militar de Ghadafi y se hablaba de un posible golpe. Estabamos esperando cada novedad conteniendo la respiración.
El día siguiente nuestra destinación era una aldea que lleva nuestro apellido, Colwell. Realmente, es un sitio que es posible perder en un pestañeo y la palabra 'aldea' le hace demasiada justicia- ¡se componía de una gasolinera! En el camino paramos a un pub que tenía una televisión y por la primera vez vimos los disturbios en Africa del Norte. Tres británicos, uno un periodista secuestrado hace un año y los otros dos, maestros desparecidos por más de un mes, fueron descubiertos asesinados. Acompañando a sus cuerpos había cartas diciendo que sus muertes fueron un resultado directo del bombardeo por los USA de Tripoli y Benghazi. También había informes de que un reportero de la TV británica había sido secuestrado en Beirut.
Estaba empezando a asustarme mucho a esas alturas y solo deseaba que todo se calmara. Estábamos ansiosos por conocer África,desde que comencé a leer un libro de Lonely Planet, “Africa on a Shoestring” [África con presupuesto reducido] Iba a ser el momento culminante de nuestro año en el extranjero. Ahora comenzaba a verse amenazado de no llegar a materializarse.
Seguimos hacia el norte y cruzamos las colinas de Cheviot a 804 metros. de la frontera entre Inglaterra y Escosia. Estaban cubiertas de nieve y las vistas eran impresionantes. Pasado Jedbugh, encontramos un terreno para acampar donde nos duchamos y cocinamos nuestra cena.
Saliendo hacia Edinburgh, condujimos a través panoramas magníficos en las colinas de Moorfoot. La nieve cubría el suelo densamente alrededor de un arroyo murmurante y las ovejas vagaban libremente. En un punto, doblamos una esquina y fuimos agraciados por una vista lejana de montañas cubiertas de nieve. La nieve fue tan emocionante para nosotros porque ninguno de nosotros esquía, y la temperatura de Sidney apenas se pone debajo de los 13 grados Celsius en pleno invierno.
Coduciendo en Edinburgh, estábamos cautivados por la belleza de esta ciudad con sus calles empedradas alrededor del peñasco rocoso sobre el cual se sienta el castillo de Edinburgh. La ciudad no parecía claustrofóbica y las montañas cubiertas de nieve se podían ver desde su centro. También se veía "El asiento de Arturo", un gran volcán extinto cubierto de hierba. Aparcamos el automóvil, paseamos por las calles empedradas y entramos en un pub llamado "The Ensign Ewart" donde entablamos amistad con la camarera, Mary y dos clientes.
El primero se llamaba Brian, un irlandés a quien encantaba una buena charla. Tanto que invitó a otro cliente, Gordon, a unirse a nosotros. Charlamos alegremente y fue solo más tarde que aprendimos que Brian no conocía a Gordon mejor que un agujero en el suelo. Después de que Brian salió tropezando al tiempo de cerrar, Gordon nos invitó a su casa para beber un café. Bueno, estaba bien memorable - ¡qué lío estaba su sitio! Después de rechazar su oferta de quedarnos allí, nos mostró un buen sitio para aparcar por la noche. Era un aparcamiento que no costó la bonita suma de 4 libras. Bueno, en realidad le costó 4 £ a Gordon ya que no teníamos cambio, así que teníamos que devolverle el dinero.
Después de una noche muy larga, nos despertamos a las 10:30 a.m., cargamos el coche y nos dirigimos al pub para despedirnos de nuestros nuevos amigos, pero su noche debió haber sido más larga que la nuestra y, cuando llegó el momento de marchar, todavía no habían llegado. Decidimos que las próximas dos noches las pasaríamos en un B & B y encontramos uno excelente por solo 10 £ cada uno. Después de tres semanas de vivir apretados en el automóvil, el lugar era como un palacio. Steve, un fanático del boxeo, tenía un motivo ulterior para querer quedarse: tenía mucho interés en ver la pelea entre Holmes y Spinks que se televisaría al día siguiente.
Otra primera vez : podíamos lavar nuestra ropa y cuerpos, la primera vez en tres semanas que podíamos hacer los dos juntos. Entonces, nos sentíamos muy limpios, relajados y totalmente confortables.

END PART VI
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REFLECTIONS.
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A memoir on the value of life.
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by Kim.
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Part VI.
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We had a long sleep-in this morning, waking at about 9:45am.
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The most obvious one was that we were both suffering from painful blisters.
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Leaving Broughton, we drove to Farndale Moor.
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It was here we wanted to camp for the night.
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It was also the place we discovered that we had not restocked the grog cabinet!
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Oh no!!!!!
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Whiskey kept us warm ay night.
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Nothing!
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Finally, we had driven too far to turn back so we settled atop Goathland Moor.
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There it started to sleet; snow was on its way.
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We had a beer at a hotel in Goathland.
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Now, I must explain our constant frequenting of pubs.
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They are an institution in Britain and very social places.
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Well, at The Goathland pub we drank a beer and played a couple of games of darts.
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What a terribly poor loser!
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I settled down to cook Hamburgers à la me, causing a very hungry Steve to salivate.
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Our hunger was so intense that opening a tin of dog food would have set him off.
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Nobody knew what that would provoke!
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Meanwhile, 2,000 protestors marched on the US embassy in Tunis.
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We woke to find the snow had stopped falling.
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Coming across Hadrian’s Wall, we could not help but stop and have a look.
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This is one of the most famous Roman ruins in the UK.
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We decided to settle for the night by one of the wall’s forts.
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We awaited every development with bated breath.
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Our destination the next day was a hamlet that bears our name, Colwell.
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There are also reports that a British TV reporter had been kidnapped in Beirut.
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It was to be the highlight of our year overseas.
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Now it was beginning to look under threat of not coming to fruition.
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We continued north and crossed the Cheviot Hills which, at 804 metres.
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form the border between England and Scotland.
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They were covered in snow and the views were breathtaking.
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Outside of Jedburgh we found a campground where showered and cooked our dinner.
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Setting off for Edinburgh we drove through magnificent scenery in the Moorfoot Hills.
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At one point we rounded a corner to be graced by a distant view of snow covered mountains.
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Also visible is “Arthur’s Seat”, a tall, grass-covered extinct volcano.
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The first was named Brian, an Irishman who loved a good natter.
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So much so that invited another patron, Gordon, to join us.
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After Brian stumbled off at closing time, Gordon invited us back to his place for a coffee.
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Now that was quite memorable – what a mess the place was in!!
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It was a parking lot that cost us the princely sum of £4.
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Well actually, it cost Gordon £4 as we had no change, so we had to pay him back.
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After three weeks of cramped living in the car, the place was like a palace.
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So, we were feeling very clean, relaxed and altogether comfortable.
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END PART VI
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REFLECTIONS.

A memoir on the value of life.
by Kim.

Part VI.

We had a long sleep-in this morning, waking at about 9:45am. Our farmer friend banged on our window at 10 o’clock to enquire after the success of our rambling, and to check that we had not gotten lost – which, of course, we had but we kept that bit to ourselves. The next two hours were spent cleaning – Steve worked on the car interior and I concentrated on the hiking boots exterior that were caked in mud.
The fact that we didn’t go for a hike today proved to be a good decision for two reasons. The most obvious one was that we were both suffering from painful blisters. The other not so obvious reason was that Sunday trekkers inundated the area – something we would always want to avoid at all cost.
We set off to another part of the moors, went through Broughton and stopped at the Black Horse, a pub that was run by a delightful man who looked a little like British comedian Ronnie Corbett without spectacles and we all had a good old chat. His name was Tony and he told us that James Cook had attended a school in the village of Great Ayton, only about a 10-minute drive from his pub. This was of interest to us as, back in Australia, we live very close to where Cook sited the Australian coast and our Shire Council uses his likeness as their symbol.
Leaving Broughton, we drove to Farndale Moor. This was exactly how I expected the moors to look – no farms, grey skies and a thick carpeting of purple heather everywhere and the road was edged with snow. It was here we wanted to camp for the night. It was also the place we discovered that we had not restocked the grog cabinet! Oh no!!!!! Whiskey kept us warm ay night. We spent the next hour (and quarter of a tank of petrol) driving frantically from town to town. Nothing! Finally, we had driven too far to turn back so we settled atop Goathland Moor. There it started to sleet; snow was on its way.
Sleeping in again the next morning, we woke feeling very “toasty” indeed; the sleeping bags really made us cozy. We had a beer at a hotel in Goathland. Now, I must explain our constant frequenting of pubs. They are an institution in Britain and very social places. They were a great place to meet the locals who proved to be a fountain of knowledge of their surrounds so they were very informative for us.
Also, almost every pub was gloriously picturesque with low hung doorways and ceiling beams, all from a bygone era. At the time of writing, there was a law in place that meant the opening hours of public house were restricted. They would open at 11am, close at 3pm then re-open at 6pm only to finally shut for the day at 11pm. Well, at The Goathland pub we drank a beer and played a couple of games of darts. Steve has written in the journal that he won one and that I “fluked a win” in the next. What a terribly poor loser!
Leaving the pub, we made for the village of Pickering to buy some supplies, especially some Scotch whiskey, before heading off toward the coastal moor area intent on doing a hike the following day. We drove through some beautiful forest area and decided to camp in the Broxa Forest about 210 metres above the surrounding landscape. There were magnificent views from where we were camped but, in no time at all, we were enveloped by a real “pea-soup” fog. I settled down to cook Hamburgers à la me, causing a very hungry Steve to salivate. Our hunger was so intense that opening a tin of dog food would have set him off.
Waking the next morning we found that the fog, if anything, had thickened, reducing driving visibility to about 15 feet. We visited the seaside town of Staithes, which translates from Old English as “Landing-Place”, where James Cook had his first encounter with the sea.
We continued where we decided to camp outside of Daddry Shields as it had begun to snow, and the roads were looking ominous. Even in all the gloom, there is so much beauty in the British landscape that I simply cannot find the words to describe it. That night was spent listening to the BBC and the worsening situation between Libya and America and we were both starting to worry about our plans to travel through Africa. We already had learnt that two British tourists were stabbed in Morocco, one being killed. Then that night came reports the Americans bombed Libya injuring Gadhafi’s two sons and killing his adopted daughter. Nobody knew what that would provoke! The F-111s took off from British bases so we might expect terrorist action in London in retaliation.
Then at 11pm we heard that an American embassy employee was injured in Khartoum when five shots were fired at his car. He was flown to a hospital in Saudi Arabia and there were unconfirmed reports that he had since died. Meanwhile, 2,000 protestors marched on the US embassy in Tunis.
We woke to find the snow had stopped falling. Enquiring at a local pub as to the conditions of the road, we were assured they were passable though when we reached the high pass the snow was deep, and the glare was extreme. Coming across Hadrian’s Wall, we could not help but stop and have a look. This is one of the most famous Roman ruins in the UK. It was quite amusing to look at what was originally about 4 metres high look like nothing more than a fence. That, we would learn, was due not only to the surrounding soil rising but the locals would pinch stones from the wall to build their houses!
We decided to settle for the night by one of the wall’s forts. As to the Libyan crisis, there were reports of shots being fired around Gadhafi’s military compound and some talk of a possible coup. We awaited every development with bated breath.
Our destination the next day was a hamlet that bears our name, Colwell. It really was a “don’t blink or you’ll mis it” place and the word “hamlet does it too much justice – it consisted of one petrol station! On the way there we stopped at a pub which had a television and for the first time saw vision of the troubles in North Africa. Three British men, one a journalist kidnapped a year earlier and the other two teachers missing for over a month, were found murdered. Accompanying their bodies were letters claiming their deaths were a direct result of the US bombing of Tripoli and Benghazi. There are also reports that a British TV reporter had been kidnapped in Beirut.
I was beginning to become quite frightened by this point and just wished it would all calm down. We had been really looking forward to Africa ever since I started reading a Lonely Planet book, “Africa on a Shoestring”. It was to be the highlight of our year overseas. Now it was beginning to look under threat of not coming to fruition.
We continued north and crossed the Cheviot Hills which, at 804 metres. form the border between England and Scotland. They were covered in snow and the views were breathtaking. Outside of Jedburgh we found a campground where showered and cooked our dinner.
Setting off for Edinburgh we drove through magnificent scenery in the Moorfoot Hills. Snow thickly carpeted the ground about a babbling brook and the sheep wandered freely. At one point we rounded a corner to be graced by a distant view of snow covered mountains. Snow was such a thrill for us as neither of us ski, and Sydney barely gets below 13 degrees Celsius in the depths of winter.
Driving into Edinburgh we were captivated by the beauty of this city with its cobbled streets surrounding the rocky crag upon which sits Edinburgh Castle. The city didn’t feel claustrophobic like most cities and the snow-capped mountains could be seen from its centre. Also visible is “Arthur’s Seat”, a tall, grass-covered extinct volcano. We parked the car and strolled along the cobbled streets and entered a pub called “The Ensign Ewart” where we struck up a friendship with the barmaid, Mary, and two patrons.
The first was named Brian, an Irishman who loved a good natter. So much so that invited another patron, Gordon, to join us. We all chatted away happily, and it was only later that we learnt that Brian didn’t know Gordon from a hole in the ground! After Brian stumbled off at closing time, Gordon invited us back to his place for a coffee. Now that was quite memorable – what a mess the place was in!! After politely refusing his invitation of a place to stay, he showed us a good place to park for the night. It was a parking lot that cost us the princely sum of £4. Well actually, it cost Gordon £4 as we had no change, so we had to pay him back.
After a very late night, we woke at 10:30am, packed the car and headed to the pub to farewell our new-found friends but their night must have been later than ours and, by the time it came for us to leave, they had not arrived yet. We decided that the next two nights would be spent at a B&B and found a great one for only £10 each. After three weeks of cramped living in the car, the place was like a palace. Steve, a boxing fanatic, had an ulterior motive for wanting to stay – he was keen to watch the bout between Holmes and Spinks which was to be televised the next day.
Another first – we managed to wash both our clothes and our bodies, the first time in three weeks that we have been able to time them together. So, we were feeling very clean, relaxed and altogether comfortable.

END PART VI