Bookmark and Share

Wednesday 6th August 2003

I drove out of London in wonderful sunshine on my way to Devon and a quick break with my sister and her family. The further away I got the more liberated I felt. No more worries for a week or two.
The traffic was light and the weather stayed glorious all the way past Reading, Swindon and Bristol. As I crossed into Somerset on the M5 I gave a small, but audible cheer.
I was making great time.
But when I got to Devon it all started going wrong. Suddenly the sky started to go grey. The whole of the country was having a heat-wave, except for the place I had chosen to go.
Then I took a right turn at a roundabout as IÂ’d been instructed, only to realise that IÂ’d made the right turn a roundabout too early. I was quickly getting lost along Devon roads so narrow that they scarcely accommodated one car, let alone two. Luckily they also led to the middle of nowhere, so I didnÂ’t meet much traffic.
I wasted over half an hour and then found the main road again and headed for the right roundabout with the right right turn. When I got there there was a policeman stationed at the exit with a sign saying “Road Closed. Accident.” I would have to find an alternative route.
Worse there was a heavy mist descending on the road.
Mist?
There goes the sun, little darling. And I say, “It’s quite shite”.
I headed into Barnstaple, it was around five thirty and it was Barnstaple Rush hour. Both carts were on the cobbled streets.
In fact, there were loads and loads of cars. I was going at walking pace. Things hadnÂ’t been this bad getting out of London. Maybe Barnstaple needs to introduce a congestion zone system.

Finally I negotiated the country roads and found the holiday cottage, just outside of Woolacombe. The last fifty miles had taken longer than the rest of the journey. And even though it was still ostensibly the day time I could tell you nothing about Woolacombe because I couldnÂ’t see more than ten feet ahead of me.

Still we went out and got the best fish and chips IÂ’ve ever tasted.
And IÂ’m on holiday. The metaphorical mist that has been fugging up my brain has disappeared, only to be replaced by real mist fugging up my windscreen.
I know which mist I prefer to be fugging with.

Bookmark and Share



Can I Have My Ball Back? The book Buy here
See RHLSTP on tour Guests and ticket links here
Help us make more podcasts by becoming a badger You get loads of extras if you do.
Or you can support us via Acast Plus Join here
Subscribe to Rich's Newsletter:

  

 Subscribe    Unsubscribe