Tonight I was supposed to travel to York to spend the weekend with my Ma (who lives there) and my Sis (who lives in Hampshire). This would have been my most distant travelling destination of the year so far. Last night it snowed a bit and today and tonight the air’s a bit fresh in a Captain Oates sort of way, so I was warned off doing the 242 miles in my trusty Honda Civic motor car for fear of slippery roads (and I don’t mean roads that are a bit like a slipper) and of me crashing in my car on them and dying and spoiling everybody's weekend.
A disappointment indeed as I particularly enjoy stopping at Tibshelf Services on the M1 in Derbyshire to break my journey with dead strong coffee, a read of my book and a look at the crap CDs in WH Smith's (which, I must confess, I often buy) and I was looking forward to a good old walk round good old York, walls and all.
I saw a sign outside a pub in Chippers today that said, “All Six Nations Live On TV” which worried me a bit. I know that modern day technology is effectively shrinking the world but I was pretty sure that there were still more than six nations remaining on our planet. This might restrict future trips abroad, I gloomily thought. And then somebody told me that it’s something to do with a rugby competition.
Berlin in four weeks . . . wunderbra!