Tuesday, 23 August 2011

162. Watford or bust

We waved my family off with me in a right strop (surely not, I hear my readers cry!).  I'd arranged to drop a futon my mum had been saving for my daughter off at my ex-husband's as we passed his on the way to London.  R, however, was in a very uncompliant frame of mind, so after a couple of half hearted attempts to fit it in his PEOPLE CARRIER, I told him not to bother.

I was in a filthy mood with him until he started struggling with the traffic as we approached London.  Obviously, letting me, a WOMAN, drive would have been unthinkable so we both suffered as he sweated and swore, went the wrong way and eventually (thank you god) drew up in front of our hotel.  I felt as if I'd gone a couple of rounds with Tyson by the time I staggered out of the car. 

Our room was obviously a budget room which was initially disappointing.  But it was clean, had a tea tray and a TV.  Good enough.  The heroic driver decided he needed a nap to recover from his battle while I retreated to the safety of the bathroom. 

After 2 1/2 hours I was bored so banged around the room a bit, eventually resorting to turning on the TV to wake him up.  Despite the very inauspicious start, after we'd got dolled up, we went into Watford and found a lush Italian restaurant.  A good evening was had, despite everything. 

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