A little less conversation…

I am knackered and broke.

I never really considered myself to be a couch potato but I think in reality, that is exactly what I am.

Yesterday, I safely delivered my wee Scottish pal back to Stansted for her flight home.  Well, when I say safely I mean with no catastrophes, apart from getting slightly lost.  It was inevitable really, as we talk too much.  Luckily we had left plenty of time for the journey as we were likely to hit the Dartford crossing at rush hour, not a particularly pleasant time to be on the road but especially unpleasant there.  It’s like wacky races.  Worse probably.

I noticed, a little too late, that we were going the wrong way when I was no longer seeing signs for Stansted and had started seeing signs for Heathrow instead.  Here we go then, another Oh shit moment.  Lost in our conversation about life, love and all that bollocks, we (well I say we but I mean me) had missed the turning, so in true Thelma and Louise style and after we had quickly programmed the sat nav, we navigated ourselves across the motorway and squeezed ourselves on to the fast approaching slip road, to where, we weren’t sure but as we didn’t want to end up in Watford, anywhere we could do an about turn would be marginally better.

The thing with the M25 is you can’t really get lost, it is a circle. However, we really didn’t have time to go all the way around, much as it might be a fun thing to do with your bestie, a packet of wine gums and some pop.  The 117 miles of it would probably take days with the amount of traffic that is, for the most part, usually stationary on it.  Honestly, I don’t know how people drive on it everyday,  it must suck any enjoyment you might get out of driving right out of you.

Driving on the M25, well anywhere in fact, reminds me that there are some bloody maniacs out there.  I am not known for my Driving Miss Daisy road skills but Jesus Christ there are some idiots on the roads.  In England you can not go to the store and purchase a gun, it is considered to be a lethal weapon and therefore you must apply for one and have a bloody good reason to want one.  However, you can pop in to a store and purchase another type of lethal weapon, a car and you can drive it how you see fit,  unless the cops catch you, which to be fair is pretty unlikely.  I have got to say that Motorway driving is not for the faint hearted, more traffic on the roads, more lorries, vans, motorbikes and morons means it is almost like a game of chance.  If you make it to end of your journey unscathed, maybe fate was on your side that day.

There are plenty of perks to driving and the beautiful countryside and sometimes startling beautiful views in to London are without doubt a sight to behold.  Crossing over the bridge back towards Kent when the sun is going down on London is utterly breathtaking, if you can be brave enough to steal a glance while trying not to be blindsided by a forty tonne truck.

Ruth and I have had an absolutely brilliant time together.  I have loved having her to stay and although I am knackered and have but a few pounds to see me to payday it has been absolutely, definitely worth it.  Today I am recovering from all our gadding about and the late nights spent boozing and chewing the fat.  I have always considered my self quite fit.   I mean I’m no gym bunny but I don’t really have any aches and pains or get breathless when I take a flight of stairs but my God I slept like I hadn’t slept in months last night.   It helped not to have spindle legs next to me, granted but truth be told I can’t keep it up anymore.

It pains me to say it but late nights spent drinking, eating too much food and days spent swinging through trees, climbing cliffs and walking for miles have left me a tad bloody tired.  Yesterday after making it back from the airport run, I was fit for not a lot.  Ruth put me to shame I don’t know where she gets her energy from, I know she is Scottish so they are a hard breed but there were times when I just wanted to put my head in someones lap and believe me when I say anyone would have done and go to sleep. By 9 pm I was ready to take me and my food baby to bed.

My tolerance level when I am tired is really not good.  Had I have been in the war I would have given secrets away in exchange for a few hours sleep.  Sleep deprivation is not for me.

Driving back from the airport my tired head encountered two prats in flash cars having a race along the A21.  Thus proving my point about cars being lethal weapons.

Completely oblivious to the rest of us mere mortals who are really only trying to get home, they were over taking each other, then slowing for the other to catch up only to drive slowly along side by side.  It was unclear whether they knew each other or were just in the process of trying to work out whose dick was the biggest but they were starting to cause havoc with other traffic.  There is an evil part of me that wanted them to have an accident, obviously without involving the rest of us but just for their stupidity to result in a short, sharp, shock would have been some just deserts.  The sad thing is that people who drive expensive cars like that can afford to replace them without a care, so it would not have made one iota of a difference to their reckless behaviour.  I imagine a bit of dented pride is easily healed when you pick up your shiny new £200,000 motor just a few weeks later.

Finally they shot off in to the distance and left the rest of us to mosey on at our leisure.  As I neared the end of my journey I heard on the car radio about the terrible bridge collapse in Italy.  A freak accident they call it.  A bloody travesty is what is.  Things like that should not be happening in the world today.  Engineering is not my forte but I should like to think that structures like that are well maintained, that someone is responsible for checking and double checking them.  They should be safe.  We are building bigger, longer, taller, fancier bridges and buildings now.  I’d like to think that in however many years time they wont all come crashing to the floor.

The news of the bridge collapse came on the radio just as I was going over a bridge.  This bridge, while not particularly high, is just past Sevenoaks, It has a sign next to it that says, “weak bridge”  should I be worried?  That sign has been there for as long as I can remember and I had never really taken much notice of it until yesterday.  It is slightly disconcerting that on a bridge, along which cars travel at great speed there would be a sign that informs you that the bridge is weak.  WTF!  Does this mean it will eventually collapse?  Why have you put up a sign saying the bridge is weak?  I need to know the answers to these questions now before I will travel over the bridge again.  Yesterdays tragic news from Italy all to fresh in my mind and despite reassurance from all and sundry today that the bridges in the UK are regularly checked and maintained, I should still like that in writing, thank you.

Was I ever glad to get home.  What a journey.  I rarely travel outside of familiar territory these days and after yesterday’s journey I have remembered why.

One thought on “A little less conversation…

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