Driving home for Christmas…

Even though I had to be up for 5 the next morning, when I went to bed late on my last night on the Gruinart reserve I was feeling good, and not a little excited.  This was after spending most of the day cleaning.  After just 4 hours sleep I was up for 5.15am (Sat 19th), eating a quick breakfast and putting the last few items into the trusty wagon.  A last walk for Ghilean and I was on my way.

Road conditions were tricky.  There was no wind and the sky was completely devoid of clouds, the stars twinkling brightly with no light pollution to dull them in this part of the world.  So, I couldn’t feel the cold, but I could sense it through the steering wheel.  On the road to the ferry terminal a tanker was driving at a snail’s pace down the hill to Port Askaig.  At the terminal itself extra grit was being laid following some arse/pavement action.  I carefully made my way in to claim my tickets for the 7am ferry.

The crossing was glassy smooth, but I was asleep on a sofa/chair arrangement in one of the lounges.  With few people on board I wasn’t disturbed until an hour into the journey, when I woke to the sound of a small boy’s laughter.  I sat up and he smiled at me, a big beaming smile, so I said hello to him and his Mum and decided it was a good time to go and see what was going on.

Approaching Kennacraig

Outside the first light of day was beginning to wash over West Loch Tarbet as the ferry glided up the loch towards Kennacraig.  Every now and again we passed some ducks, or swans, and I could see rings appearing in the water with no obvious culprits.

Soon after, I was on the road, the only other traffic being that which had accompanied me on the ferry.  We gingerly made our way along the wonderfully scenic A83, through Tarbet, Lochgilphead, “Rest and be Thankful”, and eventually on to Arrochar.  By this time I had been joined by a new set of unknown travelling companions, and made a brief stop to refuel.  Edith Bowman and James King were providing the company inside the van.

Three hours after alighting the ferry I was on the A74 South of Glasgow, and finally felt I could trust the road to not slide out from underneath me, mostly because everyone else on the road seemed to be travelling at 80mph plus.  If their cars were gripping the road ok then my heavyweight wagon should be fine.

Cold but bright in the Scottish Lowlands

There were tales of snow on the radio and the ratio of Christmas songs was high.  I can’t say that his is my favourite Christmas song (Greg Lake takes that prize), but when Chris Rea’s “Driving home for Christmas” came on the radio it summed up my mood nicely.

Looking bleak in the Lake District

First stop, Barton-under-Needlewood.  So began my attempt to fit in some much anticipated cross country socialising on my way South.  After a night out in Lichfield with John, Vic and friends, watching The Villians, their soon to be wedding band, we made our way in to Nottingham on Sunday (20th), where Breige had very kindly organised a Christmas meal for the Mona Street posse and friends.

After a few beers and a night on some sofa cushions I set off for Manoj’s on Monday (21st) morning.  Thankfully, a bit more snow was evident, but still not the many feet that had reportedly fallen in the South East.  My journey was rewarded with a trip to the British Car Auctions with Manoj and Harmesh.

Snow on the streets of Nottingham

It seemed to be snowing across most of the country, which made for good looking news.  No new snow in Wolves though and after an eventless trip to the auction and a few films I continued on my way, yesterday (22nd).

Snow on the streets of Penn

This time I got as far as Portishead, where it’s very icy, for a few alcohol free Becks with ex-work colleagues, Mike and Dean, in the Poachers’.

I made it back to Exmouth at half past midnight, last night.  The house was warm and Christmassy.  It’s great to be back.  I feel excited.  Oh, and Carol, my conveyancer, called to say that the house sale had finally completed.

Today has been spent catching up with family and unpacking the wagon.  Round at Han and Ian’s Flynn and Willow both have colds.  But I still managed a bit of reading time with Flynn.  I’m now “Phwo”, and he seems to know lots of words, rather than just the “Shoeshoe” that he knew when I left.