I’m sort of breaking a couple of my own rules here. Firstly, I’m supposed to do a blog entry every day (which was my New Year’s resolution), but I didn’t do one yesterday because I was spending the night in a hotel (which isn’t really an very good excuse since there was wireless internet access available in the hotel and I had my netbook with me). I’m getting round that one by doing two posts today. I can always pretend I’ve time travelled back to yesterday to do this one.
My second rule is that my blog should not become a diary. Well I’m writing about what I did today (yesterday?) this time, but writing about my day now and again doesn’t make this a diary, does it?
So, I travelled down to Reading (capital R, Reading is a place). When I say travelled, I mean drove, by car, down the M1. Usually when I drive south I use the M1 (rather than the A1). I don’t really like driving on motorways, in fact I don’t really like driving at all. The advantage of the motorway is that it is quick, so I don’t have to spend as much time driving.
When I set out from home, the weather was cold and windy, but there was no snow or ice. However once I reached the M1 the situation was quite different. There had been plenty of snow, the car’s thermometer didn’t get above zero, and the spray from the traffic made visibility poor. Thank goodness it was a Saturday with fewer lorries than usual on the road.
The weather really shouldn’t be like this in late March. We (my wife came with me) passed snow ploughs on the way, clearing snow from the hard shoulder in one case, and from the outside lane in another.
Still, even driving fairly slowly with a short stop for lunch we made good time, reaching Reading in about 5 hours.
forty-two 