Wednesday 14th February 2018

What a day. Long periods of dullness followed by brief periods of scariness.

The dullness came from the course, and the excitement came from driving from Leeds to Manchester on the M62 in driving rain and sleet. In the dark. In heavy traffic. Could have been worse, but, you know.

I woke up this morning at half five, apparently rested. So I lay in bed listening to the traffic on the main road outside, and the wind blowing in the trees.

I made the mistake of going down to breakfast too early on Tuesday, so wait to quarter to seven before going down, pay the bill, but am surprised by a bill of £32 for a red wine and a pint of beer. Steep if it were in London. I question it, and there will be an investigation I was told.

I have cereal and a sausage sandwich for breakfast, a two cups of bitter coffee. But I feel human again.

Back upstairs to pack, throw my work stuff in the case, as I only need to carry my coursework. One final check of the room and I take the lift down and load up the car. This feels better, but I am not going home, at least not today.

The five of us on the course and the instructor gather between half eight and ten past nine, ready to begin with reviewing the homework done late last night after drinking the wine. But I do OK.

The day drags, but we can see the end of the course, working through to the morning break, then to lunch where we seem to be the only ones in to eat. One last lesson, some preparation and then we can do the final role play scenario, and we are done. If only Dave would stop talking. He talks for another 20 minutes where we try to look and sound interested as we also try to pack our stuff.

And at ten to four we can leave, meaning we would hit the roads at the start of rush hour. I program the sat nav and am away, out of the car park and onto the main road, turning onto the motorway, and into traffic. It had snowed on and off during the day, but now was just raining.

I get onto the M62, which goes from Hull to Liverpool, I am only going from Leeds to Manchester, but at each junction, traffic slows to walking pace, but we do keep moving. After Huddersfield the road climbs up onto the moors, rain falls heavy and there is snow on the tops of the hills, just visible as darkness falls.

It is just as bad in Manchester, we inch round the ring road as rain continues to fall. I turn onto the M6 south, according to the sat nav, I have 15 minutes to go, but that could still take an hour. Or two.

I arrive in Birchwood, turn off the motorway and along a good empty road through the business park, coming to the hotel. It was half six. And I was very happy to arrive.

The Pentahotel is a modern place; the reception and bar are the same place, it has low level lighting, music playing, and feels more like a pub than a hotel. But the rooms are typical of a business/travel hotel, the rooms comfortable and functional.

After dropping my case and bag, go down for dinner. I am weak, so order beer and burger and fries. It is simple, and OK. Comes quick meaning I am back in the room for quarter to eight, in time to hear the start of the Liverpool game at Porto.