Friday 26th May 2023

On the road again.

Jools took me into town, so I could pick up the hire car, but as she had a yoga class, this was at twenty past six. I had nearly two hours to kill, so I found a sheltered bench and listened to a podcast or two.

Two guys, looking older than they were, shuffled past with a plastic bag full of cans for a day's boozing in a nearby shelter.

Its a life. Just.

At seven I try to find somewhere open for breakfast, and after searching online and on foot, there was just one, so I went in and the guy reluctantly took my order of a standard breakfast, then went to cook it.

It was OK, but set me for the day of travel I had ahead.

I walked down Snargate Street to the car hire place, and because they were all prepared and open early, I was in the car driving home by eight, back home to have a brew, pack and wait until nine for the rush to die down.

I set off at half nine, the car loaded, mostly with cameras and lenses I would not use. I programmed the hotel into the sat nav, and off I went, up the A2.

And for a while, it was quiet, and almost enjoyable. Traffic got worse near to Gravesend, and then was stationary on the slip road onto the M25 leading to the tunnel.

I guess it took 15 minutes to get through, so out into bloody Essex, and along to the M11 junction where the journey north really begun.

It was fine, the trip through Essex. The road was busy, but kept moving, and thinned out nearer to Cambridge, turning west along the newly upgraded A14, heading to the bottom of the M6, some 90 minutes away.

I had podcasts playing, I really needed music, but the radio in the car was way too difficult to work out when driving.

Then up the M6, which was busy, but again traffic went at 70, as did I, and the miles slipped by.

I stopped at the services on the Toll, and this was the first indication that this was not a normal Friday, as it was packed.

I used the restroom and went back to the car, as everywhere serving food had queues.

Talking of queues, there was a ten minute wait at the toll plaza, but that is where the traffic really began.

Somewhere north of Stafford the jams started, and really did not end until I was nearly in Lancaster. Inching forward, sometimes up to 10 mph, mostly slower. It felt I would never get there.

Through Warrington, round Manchester and up to Preston, where just north of the town, queues melted away and I cruised the last half an hour at normal speed.

I found the Premier Inn second time round the one way system, I checked in and went to the "family" pub next door for dinner of a dreadful burger, soggy fries, and oily onion rings. Refills of Coke were, however, free.

I then drove to Silverdale to visit my friend, Richard for a pint and chat, and was treated to the glorious gloaming light over Morecombe Bay. I expected Brigadoon to appear.

I met Richard at the Silverdale Hotel, we each had a pint of Directors and then chatted. About orchids.

Sadly, I had to leave at about half nine, as I was to be up early in the morning, so bid him farewell, and drove back to Lancaster in the dusk, getting back just before nightfall.