172. Road Trip

So I saw I three weeks ago.  But its her birthday.  While I don’t think I’m dying, I do have a worry in the back of my mind that my bad shoulder could be the beginnings of cancer metastasizing to my bones.  So on some level I’m concerned that this might be my last chance to see I on her birthday. 

Normally, I’d catch the train when I’m going home for the weekend mid term.  Because R has a fridge for I though, as well as the bookcases and the table that she wants from me, I determine to drive.  We finish at school at 2.30 on Thursdays and Fridays so I can get on the road early.

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I make sure I’m done at work in plenty of time.  I’m on the road and off in good time.  Traffic is heavy going past Newcastle but I try to be patient.  It takes me an hour to get past which is irritating because it’s a four hour bloody drive, minimum.  This turns it into five hours.

 Still, once past the toon, I’m motoring.  No careful speed restrictions tonight.  I do at least 80 and sing along to the radio, determined to keep my mood up.  Until the first traffic alert.  Bloody A1 is blocked at Weatherby.  I calculate in my head how far I’m OK to drive before having to come off the A1.  Another couple of alerts describe whets happened.  A Mercedes has rolled, crashing into the central reservation.   

I leave the motorway and after consulting R, try to take an alternate route.  Then the next traffic alert informs me that the A19 and the one other road to the South is also blocked.  FFS!  What do I do?  Do I drive on and possibly sit all night in a traffic jam or turn back and go next weekend? 

I determine to go on.  I sit and sit and sit.  There’s a novel in my bag which I read until finally, traffic moves on.  I get to Bury nine hours after I left home.  My back is cricked and I can barely move.  But it’s all worth it when I see my girl.  My birthday girl.  J