On a whim we decided to drive 460 miles to the South coast.
My dear wife had been informed at the last minute that she would be on holiday this week. So, not being the types to waste an opportunity we looked for where the the sun was to be shining.
Accu weather reliably informed us that the only sunny spot for the current week was on the far away Southern coast of this island. And thus it was decided on Monday to set forth on the long drive in search of warmth and solar satisfaction.
Monday was spent ticking off the list of foodstuffs and camping equipment, clothing and bedding all being carefully gathered. The camping corner of the attic is a once yearly visit, outwith this week in July it lies silent and dormant, awaiting the call to service. Invariably the budget constraints require that it will be called upon.
This was a wholly new adventure, our usual haunt was dramatically deficient in the sun and heat department this year so a new location was sought. The Walmart magazine came up trumps for us and directed us to a secluded location at the extreme end of our road system.
The decision was made to go overnight. This turned out to be a stroke of genius, the family serenely slumbered as cherry cola and coconut bars kept me going through the ticking miles of the night. By 4am light was returning and the final three hours passed in relative ease. The sat nav on my phone proved to be invaluable
We have a very clear pattern upon arrival at a camp ground, certain tasks are followed with precision and our temporary home is erected and habitable within the hour. Such was the case by 8:30am on Tuesday, and so the weary driver crashed out for exactly 60 minutes.
Seldom have we enjoyed a holiday as much as this one, we visited old family haunts of my wife from childhood and made new memories on golden beaches with glorious sunshine. We laughed and we niggled, doing the things that family does. But we had a ball.
Daylight driving is a whole different animal.
Our fast packing and delicate departure was slick, before 9:30 am the camp was no more and the wheels were again turning.
My relationship with satellite navigation is a fairly new one. Generally I know roughly where we are going and my inbuilt sense of direction rectified any minor setbacks. The British road network is very well sign posted and it is very simple to get around as a rule.
On this trip I relied heavily upon the little blue arrow. I can’t abide the voice but the arrow is acceptable.
My inner compass was all Bermuda triangled after 400 miles and never recovered until half way home. When this automated guidance system takes you through housing estates it is easy to lose faith in its promise of directness.
Knowing where you want to end up is a huge, almost imperative, benefit in life.
I often wonder how many of us who have no faith in anything of a spiritual nature will blindly follow authoritative voices without question. We type a destination into a box and follow the instructions to the letter without ever deviating to see what we are missing.
We crawled for 50 miles Northward on a 4 Lane motorway with the capacity to be going in excess of 70mph while seldom achieving over 30. There was no real reason for it other than pointless braking as people who spend their lives focussed on screens are forced to engage in actual activity. The result was Friday chaos.
None of this rocked our little world, yes it took almost four hours longer to complete the return trip but the sun shone, we chatted snacked and played eye spy.
For a last minute escape which cost very little other than effort, it was pretty near perfect.