Thursday 7th November 2019

It is often joked that the north west of England is wet, dreary and always cloudy.

This has some root in truth. Anywhere west of the Pennines is wetter than on the east, for the most part, and generally, the further east you go, the drier it gets.

Now, I am not one for rash generalisations, I hope, so I wouldn't like to peddle such things, but when I work up on Thursday morning, at quarter past seven, it was tippling it down. I mean even grim northerners said it looked grim.

Its grim up north, apparently.

And I would have to drive back home in this if the weather didn't have a good word with itself.

I quickly realised I was behind schedule, in that I wanted to be on the road by midday, and even if I skipped a shower, had a quick breakfast, I still wouldn't be in the office much before half eight. But then I reminded myself of the hours work I had done this week and why worry.

Indeed.

I do skip a shower, but pack and get dressed, putting on my least stained work t shirt. One last sweep round the room, then out I go to the lobby to check out, then have breakfast, and once put the case in the car, walk over the road and through the faux wood to the office.

We have a new office. Most of the ground floor of one of four identical blocks. Six years ago we had a handful of desks. And once I had been signed in, I was given the tour and found that we now had two kitchens and a "bistro area". And there were dozens of empty desks.

I hot desk one before presenting myself at the door of my boss, who smiles in the same way a shark does before he snaps your leg off. Hmmmmm. I had hoped for something, not quite sure what, but it wasn't what I experienced.

Oh well.

I go to work and sort out my inbox, call various colleagues to see how things are going, and it is going.

Somewhere

The morning slips by, and still outside heavy rain fell from a slate-black sky.

I say goodbye to my new/old colleagues, walk to the hotel and climb into the car, program the sat nav for home, and off I go.

Straight onto the M6 and head south, the rain continues to fall, it creates spray, and driving is no joke

In general, driving in the UK is no fun at all. Just about everywhere is crowded, and full of nose to tail traffic, mostly inching to the same destination.

After an hour, I reach the outskirts of Birmingham, and it cannot be denied, that the sky was getting lighter, and there was less spray, and I was a bit chipper about the state of things.

After stopping on the toll road to fill the car up and getting a hot pasty and a bottle of pop.

South of Brum the clouds break, and the sun begins to shine. The clouds clear more, and I am enjoying the drive, if I'm honest.

But with each mile, London and the M25 is getting nearer.

I had not seen any jams all down the M6 and M1, but onto the M25 and a few miles driving east, all lanes came to a standstill.

We all wait, and then start up and speed up as if there had been nothing.

Situation normal.

I was now on familiar ground, and I could begin to thinks about what time I would be home, I thought about half five. Or so.

Past the bottom of the M11, A12 and round to Dartford, over the river and into Kent.

Nearly home now.

And that was it, just down the motorway, ast Maidstone, Ashford to Folkestone. And all the time the sun shone as the day turned to evening, and I arrived home at one minute to five, just in time to call Jools and arrange for her to collect fish and chips on her way home.

The cats had not recognised the sound of the hire car, so my appearance in the living room was a shock, but they soon recover and suggest it is dinner time. And who was I to argue?

I feed them, get some bread out of the freezer for chip butties, then make sure the kettle was freshly boiled. Wait some more, then Jools is reversing the car down the drive; make tea, make coffee, so as soon as she is in the house, plate the delicious food up, and into the living room to feast upon.

And that was it: 278 miles driven, lots of bad driving seen, and back home for the weekend.

Just time to listen to Marc Riley before bed, though Jools is reading The Secret Commonwealth now and is trying to limit the hours she spends reading, because, sleep.