There were only six of us this year, after several cancelled at the last minute and another overslept. Still, the people from the next village made up for it, with seventeen of them climbing aboard as we pulled up outside their pub.
The view from the bus was glorious as we wove around the lanes, past Dorset's highest point and then on to the main road down into Devon.
It was a quick stop-off at The Volunteer Inn first, where one pint turned, quite magically, into several.
And then we wound our way down to the seafront where it was all happening, including a mesmerising performance on a handpan and then off to another pub in a quiet backstreet where there was some foot tapping music going on.
There was more music and more stops at various pubs in the town, a picnic lunch on the beach before the tide came in, music and more stops at various pubs in the town, pre-booked supper at a nice little spot overlooking the main street, music and more stops at various pubs in the town and then back on the coach.
Mr Grigg was one of three people to count all the passengers when we boarded the bus and then count them all back in again for the return journey.
'If there's three people doing it,' said Mo, who helped organise the trip, 'then at least one of us might get it right and no-one will be left behind.'
It's fair to say that Monday was a complete blur. And, as far as I know, no-one was left behind.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x