I had quickly become somewhat addicted to the communal way of life, or at least, to the idea of it minus Anton, whom I detested, and Gifford.  I envisaged a new Simon-like commune, myself to be founder and king.  I conceived a plan so utterly absurd as to be embarrassing to relate.  I was going to start a commune of inadequates in a Cheddar cave!  I actually believed that the Cheddar Gorge was in an exceedingly remote part of the country and that the caves were largely unexplored, yet perfectly accessible and habitable.  Furthermore, I assumed it would be perfectly feasible to grow food crops on handy adjacent unclaimed land, make things, weave cloth etc, etc.  All this appears to me now as the burbling of an unfortunate with fairly severe learning difficulties.  It's quite extraordinary that I was nearly 25 when I believed absolutely in the soundness of this plan.  Perhaps equally surprisingly, Del Radstock believed in it too, when I revealed it to him, and eagerly agreed to go with me.

Leaving Simon wasn't easy for anyone, apart from students due back at university after vacation.  As soon you announced your intention of leaving, a Si session (see chapter 47) was called.  The intending defector was put in the hot seat and subjected to psychological and emotional bombardment until confused enough to lose the will to leave.  The answer, of course, was simply to slip away - on a visit to Canterbury, for example.  This would have presented no problem for me, because I had no possessions apart from the clothes I was wearing, so my imminent departure would not have been obvious.  Del, on the other hand, insisted on packing lots of things into a large rucksack and couple of holdalls.  This, of course attracted everyone's attention and the plot to escape was revealed.

During the resulting Si-session it seemed that no-one was particularly bothered by the prospect of losing me, they were more concerned about Del.  The communal attack on me centred on my irresponsibility in seeking to lure Del away from the one place where he fitted in.  Leaving Simon would be a disaster for him, they claimed.  They tried to probe my motives from all angles, and Gifford bawled at me and called me all sorts for the first time.  But I was so certain of myself on this occasion, that I simply lay on the floor on my back and let it all wash over me.  Neither I nor Del would reveal the details of my wonderful plan to them.  After they had worked on Del for a while, he appeared to give in and agreed to stay.  I then agreed to do the same, but my intention was simply to disappear at the first opportunity.  The apparent capitulation effected an immediate end to the session and Gifford looked as smug as could be.  

Later I started to remonstrate with Del for giving in, but he explained that he had only appeared to give in to shut them up and, in fact, the way to escape without causing further nonsense had come to him even while he was telling them he would stay.  Quite often we had got up at first light, before the rising-bell, and had gone trespassing in meadows to gather wild mushrooms for breakfast.  It was necessary to get started while the cows were still sleepy, because cows love mushrooms.  This felonious activity had gone uncensured on account of a general love of the fruits of it.  Anyone noticing Del creeping out of the dormitory (being domestic chores 'officer', I had my own room) at the crack of dawn would assume we were going mushrooming again.  

Del had already hidden his rucksack and bags in the cellar, which was so musty, mouldy and dirty, that people rarely ventured into it.  Item by item, dashing into the cellar whenever the coast was clear, he had already packed most of the things he wanted to take.  At first light the next day, it was mainly just a case of stealing a goodly supply of food from the kitchen and making our getaway.  I have a surprisingly sharp memory of carefully closing the little wicket gate behind me, with mixed feelings about leaving.  We had no clear idea of how to get to the Cheddar Gorge, except that it was a long way west.  It was obvious that we were in for a lot of walking to begin with.  There was precious little traffic in the lanes at any time, but none at all this early.

We navigated by the rising sun until we found a signpost to some known location.  I can't remember at all how much we walked before starting to get short lifts, or how far we got before another bright idea entered Del's head.  He suddenly remembered that he had an open invitation to doss on the floor of a former Simon worker, a second-year student at Sussex University, called Arnrid Moore.  Like most second-year Sussex students, she shared a large flat with several other girls in Brighton.   Possibly, signposts to Brighton gave him the idea of stopping off there for a few days to rest and clean ourselves up a bit.  I pointed out that I had not been invited - indeed, had never met Arnrid, but Del assured me that, this being 1967, female students had no hesitation in putting up any unknown persons, male or female, who arrived on their doorsteps.

The thought of a flatful of hospitable girls proved too much to resist and I agreed we should make the slight detour to Brighton.  I don't know exactly how long it took us to get there from Simonwell, but I remember having to doss down in barns at least a couple of times.  I also remember that after the rations (and Del's cigarettes) had run out, our progress through each small small town was interrupted by the mysterious disappearance of Del, preceded by instructions to stay put until his return.  He would come back after half an hour or so with abundant supplies.  As we had not a penny between us, and I couldn't imagine Del begging, his method of acquiring the goods was, I suppose, obvious.  Anyway, I asked no questions.  At length we arrived at the South Coast town, which I had last seen over two years earlier (see Chapter 31).