Well, these pages stayed a little quiet yesterday, for reasons of being over-tired and not quite being able to remember who I was or what I was supposed to be doing. Thanks to our great British road network, a journey from London to Cardiff that should have taken 3 hours actually took more than 8!! Thank goodness I wasn't driving, but I had to keep awake in order to keep my friend behind the wheel awake. It took us three and a half hours to travel the first 10 miles out of London due to a crash, and then we met another major queue because of lovely roadworks.
By the time we'd stopped for a snack (£8 for a sausage, a second mortgage for scrambled eggs...) there were many furious people milling around the service station. Unfortunately they were all knackered and unable to vocalise their anger, so there was a lot of half-hearted fist shaking going on.
Why is it that whenever traffic grinds to a halt on the motorway, people in a hurry suddenly decide that it's okay to use the hard shoulder? They whack their hazard lights on and bomb down it. It's insane, because they weren't the only people using the hard shoulder. Men with weak bladders were getting out of cars in their droves. Imagine if that's how you spent the last two minutes of your life:
a) relieving yourself on the hard shoulder, and then
b) getting run over.
What a way to go!
Up until 6.30 on Sunday evening, I'd been having a fantastic time. Madame Butterfly was great, and it was nice to see Mel for a long leisurely Sunday lunch. But I don't think that's why I will remember this particular weekend!
