4.45am felt slightly more "What the Hell" than "Woo hooo". Since we (me and my daughter Nell) live in Suffolk it was only natural that the car I had chosen would have to be in Chester, though the coach trip to retrieve him would go some way to redress the "local is for wimps" balance.
Naturally, in order to secure insanely cheap tickets, one has to travel at silly hour and long enough for a back and bum numbing coach seat posture to be semi-permanently adopted. In our case this was to be a tad shy of 11 hours.
We reached Victoria Coach station ahead of time with an hour to wait for the connection. Time for coffee, cake and Capital People Watching before embarking on Phase Two of the journey.
I can only commend National Express for their efficiency and pleasant, professional drivers - apart from one, who tailgated so badly that Nell texted photographic feedback to the Company HQ. I was convinced we would be dumped at the roadside! The driver had already barked at us to put on seat belts "WHICH IS LAW" after which he challenged one poor traveller as to the nature of the small paper bag he was carrying.
"What is that?" he demanded abruptly, blocking the chaps re-entry to the bus after a pit stop, as if the poor guy was holding a smoking baretta.
" A sausage roll" came the reply.
"What is that?" he demanded abruptly, blocking the chaps re-entry to the bus after a pit stop, as if the poor guy was holding a smoking baretta.
" A sausage roll" came the reply.
" NOT ALLOWED!"
Customer Care a la Genghis Khan, and so busy playing Sheriff he forgot the rules applied to drink driving even if it was just Coca Cola at the wheel.
We arrived early into Chester and were met by the Volvo owner's daughter and husband who drove us the 10 miles to where Audrey Rose (the Volvo owner) lived.
 |
Our plan had been to settle the deal speedily and make a quick exit due to the 4½ hour car journey ahead in a new 29 year old car. Audrey Rose had other plans. Audrey Rose had made sandwiches, cakes and tea! Audrey Rose is the most wonderful lady imaginable and was unbelievably hospitable to two complete strangers just buying her car.
|
I can`t do her justice here, such the briefest of meetings but you know when you meet a rarity. She breeds Shetlands and had one called Rhubarb with one eye who we met. The Volvo had been owned by her and her late husband for the last 13 years with only one previous owner a doctor from the village.
The car had been totally prepared for the journey for us; oil changed, levels checked, manuals included and interior polished to a sparkle. We too were prepared - with 14 year old road map, lump of lucky coal, broken Mercedes badge and Harold, the one eyed asp.
My Volvo owning friend had been texting Nell all day for progress updates on what he had teasingly called 'Operation Wobbly Wheel' which, ironically, was the only thing she did display. I think she just needed a run. And run she did, sweetly, all the way home.
No comments:
Post a Comment