Alright, so we’re now out of the farmhouse. I’m still not convinced this was the best move we could make, but having made up our minds to go, it’s a relief to finally be able to get going. I’d long since got sick of waiting. We’re passing through some wooded place. I can’t be more specific, because I don’t know where exactly we are, but we’re still in Gloucestershire. Plan is, we’re going to stop soon and pitch a tent before heading north. The roads are being gritted around here, so snow shouldn’t be a problem any longer. I’m not convinced that we’ve thought this through properly. We don’t really know what we’re doing. We have the advantage that the police don’t know Tom or what kind of car he drives, so hopefully nobody will recognise us, but it’s a huge risk to be taking. And as for the tent, well, we’ll freeze! They’re just not thinking.