The Getaway is objectively wonderful, and I love the people I see there. But getting there, and getting home again, is most definitely not even half the fun. Or any of the fun, come to think of it.
When I made the trip with Edmund, I had the pleasure of his company, of course, but I also benefited from his efforts to read maps and road signs, watch for over-caffeinated Porsches, enter data in the SATNAV, keep me supplied with Altoids, and find eating establishments that would do better than provide mere calories. He would also carry the guitar despite the military rule of “one man, one kit”. On my own, I was bossed around by the SATNAV and seemed unable to locate a McDonald’s with an operational milkshake machine.