15st 6lb, 4.0 units. I started a new quarter of my financial year in the traditional way by e-mailing a bunch of invoices, with suitably grovelling covering notes, then loaded the reluctant dog into the car and drove to Northumberland. Six and a half sodding hours it took from door to door, some of which was accounted for by going via Alnwick to do a spot of shopping. But most of it was down to the fact that the entire population of the UK appeared to be on the move, and many of them have failed to grasp the concept that they should be driving in the left hand lane of multi-lane roads unless they happen to be overtaking. Though the absolute highlight was the discovery of an entirely new form of torture at Wetherby services, where I noticed when it was just too late to abort my entry to the car park that there seemed to be a bit of a queue to get out of it.
Not to worry, I thought, I’m sure that will have cleared by the time I’ve attended to a call of nature and had a bite to eat.
Over an hour I sat there, completely stationary, wondering how the hell Moto had managed to design an almost completely new service area that could be brought to a complete standstill with such apparent ease, and resenting the loss of a chunk of my life that no-one is ever going to give me back.
At least the sun was shining when I finally reached home, and The Dog and I went out for a glorious walk in some of the loveliest scenery on the planet. Though it would have been more glorious if I had remembered to wear a hat. I had forgotten how large the fly population of Northumberland becomes by the beginning of July each year. Note to potential tourists: it’s a fly-infested hellhole. Don’t even think of coming here.
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