No place like home

Especially when there a Merrie England coffee involved.

A horrid journey yesterday - 8 hours door to door - I should’ve thought through the logistics of driving up the M5 on the Monday after Glastonbury (I knew I could find a way to blame bloody Coldplay!). I stopped only briefly for a comfort break at Michaelwood only to find it full of people who’d spent the weekend having to relieve themselves in festival toilets - it wasn’t a pleasant experience!

The M5 was closed at one point so Google Maps took me on a tour of rural Somerset - only for it to throw in the towel when I was in the arse end of nowhere and declare it couldn’t find a suitable route. There wasn’t enough signal to load up a webpage so I resorted to Apple Maps - it confidently directed me back to the very junction of the M5 I’d come off an hour earlier, with a helpful note saying “this route contains roads that are currently closed”. I can’t help but look back nostalgically at the days of paper maps and blissful ignorance. Anyway I got home somehow; alarmingly I don’t recall the last stretch across the M62 at all - I must’ve been on autopilot.

Thanks for the support about my mum’s progress - I do feel she will get back home again, which is what she and Chris desperately want. She’s a strong old bird. I wish I were closer but we are where we are, as they say.