Since I started the night planning to go the opposite direction I had a mostly useless section of map with me. The fat bartender at the Paper Mill said I needed to get a taxi back, ignoring the sweaty running kit I wore and my protestation that I ran out there and thought I could run back…so, he gave me some shit directions that put me on the road to London. Fortunately, Ye Olde Red Lion presented itself soon.
It was Bonfire Night and I had just missed the festivities at the Lion but the fire was still ablaze so I grabbed a Sagres (a strong Portuguese lager) and sat in the wet grass to watch it and the occasional fireworks. Another reveller pointed out that the towpath was just behind the field in which we sat so I had a quiet (fireworks notwithstanding) route home once I finished my brew.