Wednesday 12th February 2020

Dateline: Holywell, Flintishire, Wales. I woke at half five having had the best part of nine hours sleep, I guessed. I felt rested, I had done the audit, and all that lay ahead was some admin then the small matter of the six hour drive back south. There are worse ways to spend working I thought. And was right. So, at seven I got up, had a shower then packed and dressed. Downstairs I had breakfast then checked out. Although I don't have bacon and sausages every morning when I'm home, but here, it was something I had been looking forward to since waking up. Freshly cooked sausage and bacon, split and put in buttered fresh bread and with a huge cup of fresh coffee.

Wonderful.

I pay the bill, and am wished on my travels, as I walk out of the hotel away to my right the angry red sun rises, lighting up this fine Welsh morning, though the sun rose above England, but hey.

I drove to the harbour at Mostyn, trying to keep to the speed limit this time as I made my way past the empty yards of what was once a busy port. Maybe the speed cameras are old and not working.

He hoped.

In the office, I was asked if I wanted a brew by the service manager, but I'm good. Not so good was the endless problems I had with our IT systems; some kind of rogue script running in the background making everything act so slow it was like being back on dial up.

I do what I set otut to do in a couple of hours, so I decide to make a start for home. I bid them all goodbye, though I'll be back in May.

Maybe.

The sat nav took me along the coast road, along to Flint, past a small liner I should have stopped to take shots off, but didn't. I wanted to put as many miles behind me as quickly as possible as the weather could do anything. Just before reaching the motorway, traffic was brought to a halt by the police, making us wait quarter of an hour for some issue to be sorted and cleared away.

Then we were on our way again. Onto the motorway before turning south.

The roads were not that bad, not too busy, even through the twenty miles of roadworks before passing Stafford. I press on, and even the weather was nice. Maybe even too sunny?

Just nit-picking really.

I stop on the toll road at the services, fill up the car and let the company buy me a hot pastie, a bottle of pop and a double Wispa to eat as I drive south.

As usual, the sat nav and I had a difference of opinion on the way to take. I took the car down the A14 to Cambridge and then down the M11, thus cutting out a large chunk of the M25. After half an hour the magic box got it.

The weather was still wonderful, as I pressed on towards Cambridge, joining the new byspass from the A1, all new road until it rejoined the old alignment near to the city, and roadworks there are nearly done, and soon will be smooth again. I have been travelling this road since it changed from the A45 and widened and now widened again.

Down south now, towards London, back on familiar roads, now less than two hours from home. So close I could almost taste the first cuppa.

The car, a sporty Leon, was a pleasure to dive, not sure about the build quality, but enjoyable enough. And it had DAB too.

And into Kent and down the M20 and past the old Operation Brock area, all now gone, so no need to slow down now.

I arrive home after having driven 340 miles that day, 720 in total. Phew.

I get inside the house and the cats look and go, "meow?". So I give them some kibbles. They seem happy with that.

It was just after four, too late to do work, and anyway I was pooped. So I make a huge brew and watch the highlights, as much they were, from the weekend's games.

After feeding the cats, I prepare dinner, breaded chicken and curried rice, which was rather good. But before eating, we drop the hire car off, Jools picks me up, and we are home.

Now, that called for a wine. Or two.

And that was that. Half seven by the time we had cleared up, made a coffee and chatted about things. Enough time left to listen to some music, before going to bed at nine to read.

Good night. And good luck.