Driving Times

Yesterday I was out all day – I left at 8.30, and came back at 6.30pm, so out for ten hours, of which about six were spent driving.

All told, it involved travelling down to London to see a new potential client, then across to Windsor to pick up some bits from Hound’s vet, a quick stop-off in Slough, and then back round the M25 to get home.

In my normal style, the M25 was utterly rigid – it was bad enough that even the radio travel news people were commenting it was abnormally stuffed all round the western side. It took half an hour just to do the bit between the M4 and the M40, and the rest wasn’t much better, ’til we got (as usual) to the M1, at which point it all clears up for some fuckforsaken reason.

Still, as days goes it was OK, it looks likely I’ve got the work, it means Hound is now sorted for her Happy Pills for another three months, so that’s cool.

But by the time I got home, my brain was just roadkill, which is why I didn’t write this post last night.