星期六一大清早出車，由M40轉M42，再駁M1，一路向北，為的就係探望朋友M。
Saturday, early. The M40 to the M42, then onto the M1, running north, to see my friend M.
今個夏季，英國零舍乾旱。高速公路兩旁，田野枯黃。天時暑熱，車內冷氣開到行一行，吹不散悶焗，幸有音樂隨機播。六十年代到二零二零年代，香港歌同英文歌一首接一首。二百五十哩路，停過兩次休息站，四個半鐘，其實唔難。
Britain is unusually dry this summer. Along the motorway, fields parched to straw. In the heat, the air conditioning runs at full tilt and cannot shift the closeness; mercifully, music on shuffle. Hong Kong songs and English ones, one after another, the sixties to the twenty-twenties. Two hundred and fifty miles, two service stations, four and a half hours. Not hard, really.
我同M在二零二一年由香港一齊飛抵英倫，落地無耐就分手。佢認為在香港捱咗咁多年，應該先去遊下、體驗下、換下節奏。我則覺得應該盡快落腳，留在雷丁開始搵工。此後佢愈趨靈性，睇書、做瑜珈、去埋泰國寺廟參加體驗營；我繼續打工仔日常，連睇書寫文都唔多。各行各路，各自修行，一切無可無不可。
M and I flew out of Hong Kong together in 2021, and split up soon after landing. M's view: after grinding through all those years in Hong Kong, one ought to travel first, taste things, change tempo. Mine: settle fast, stay in Reading, find work. M grew steadily more spiritual: books, yoga, in time a temple retreat in Thailand. I kept to the working week, barely reading or writing at all. Each road its own, each practice its own; no verdict either way.
五年嚟，唔見得幾次，但有繼續聯絡。今次M約埋讀書會幾個成員去Skipton，問我有無興趣參加。我話好，於是有呢轉旅程。
Five years on, we had met only a handful of times, but never lost touch. This time M was gathering a few members of a reading group for Skipton, and asked if I cared to come. I said yes. Hence this trip.
落到車，同大家見面，簡單打個招呼；去食泰國菜午餐，又去咖啡店坐下。席間聽各人傾談，已經感受到大家都鍾意哲學，啱傾啱玩！
Out of the car, brief hellos; Thai food for lunch, then a café. Listening across the table was enough. Everyone here loved philosophy. My sort of company.
下午三點幾，出發去行山。揸廿分鐘去到Barden Bridge落車。過橋嗰段窄到只容許一輛車過，個彎又急。後來先知，條橋最先喺一六五九年由Lady Anne Clifford出資三百鎊建成，一六七三年一場大水沖走，幾年後再由整個West Riding社區夾錢重修。北面欄河，至今仍刻着一句：「這座橋於一六七六年由West Riding全區出資修繕。」
Gone three, we set out for the hills. Twenty minutes' drive to Barden Bridge. The crossing takes one car at a time, and the bend is sharp. Only later did I learn that the bridge was first built in 1659 at Lady Anne Clifford's expense, three hundred pounds, taken by a flood in 1673, and raised again a few years on by the whole community pitching in. On the northern parapet the words are carved to this day: "This bridge was repayred at the charge of the whole West riding 1676."
上山有段林木帶，行就唔係難行，只係一路有大量蚊蟲圍繞眾人頭頂激烈猛轉，或在耳邊滋咋作響。一行人唯有加快腳步，趕至較空曠而風勢較強位置，先至可以唞下氣。
The climb began through a belt of woodland. Easy going, but for the midges, great clouds of them wheeling furiously about our heads or whining at the ear. Nothing for it but to quicken the pace, up to open ground and a stronger wind, and breathe.
回望山下，心神漸漸平靜落嚟。是時有人問我，喺英國住幾年，同香港最大分別係咩？
We looked back down the valley. Someone asked: after these years in England, what is the biggest difference from Hong Kong?
「我好似容易相處咗，無以前咁防範人。」我話：「以前喺香港，三唔識七坐埋一齊；飲嘢又好，去婚禮又好，同檯十幾人，好有隔離感。可能因為以前好容易約人，好容易又撞返同一班人，我總以為有好多機會評價同一個人。直到某刻我可以相信對方，先至開誠……現在距離遠，一切要好好計劃，每次亦唔知幾時先有下次。呢種距離感，反而令我少掛一層假面具。」
"I seem to have become easier company. Less guarded," I said. "In Hong Kong you were forever seated among strangers. Drinks, weddings, a dozen to a table, and the distance never closed. Meeting was too easy, perhaps. The same faces kept coming round, so there was always another chance to take a person's measure. Only when I had come to trust someone would I open up... Here the distances are long. Everything has to be planned. You never know when the next time will come. That distance, oddly, means one mask fewer."
夜晚返到旅館，叫外賣、開酒飲，繼續傾偈，又一次講到自由意志個話題。有人認為「人有自由意志」，有人則謂「人皆環境之產物」 － 真正自由是否存在？
Back at the guesthouse that night, takeaway ordered, wine opened, the talk carried on, and free will came round once more. Some held that man chooses; others, that man is the product of his circumstances. Does true freedom exist at all?
翌日起床食早餐，又係一輪討論。最後一節關於死刑，涉及社會契約和道德界限，層面好廣，講極都唔完……
Breakfast next morning brought another round. The last session turned to capital punishment, the social contract, the limits of morality. Ground too wide to cover...
轉眼就到十二點，我係時候返程。
Then it was twelve, and time to head back.
我嘗試直接講句再見就閃人。瀟灑㗎嘛！
I tried to manage a plain goodbye and slip away. Dashing, you see.
但M話，點都要嚟個擁抱！今次一別，下次唔知幾時再見。
But M insisted on a hug. After this parting, who knows when the next time will be.
我個仔，預產期十月底，之後的確係更難約到出嚟嘅。
My son is due at the end of October. After that, getting out will be harder still.
由M1轉M42，再駁M40，一路南行。公路兩旁，田野枯黃。冷氣吹不散悶焗，仍有音樂隨機播。
The M1 to the M42, then onto the M40, running south. Along the motorway, fields parched to straw. The air conditioning still cannot shift the closeness; music still on shuffle.
回程又係二百五十哩。下午五點幾先返到屋企。
Another two hundred and fifty miles. Home gone five.
沖涼、撻上床，同太太講返今次旅程，回歸英倫日常。
A shower, a flop into bed, the trip recounted to my wife. Ordinary English life resumed.
是否自由意志都好，下次見。
Free will or not — see you next time.