Well, the journey wasn’t too bad. I was late setting off because I couldn’t find my memory stick for my laptop – the one I keep meaning to put somewhere safe. I was convinced I’d dropped it in my wastebin – the one I emptied for the first time in months the day before. Typical! So, armed with a sturdy pair of Marigolds I set about sifting through two weeks’ worth of newspapers, card, old receipts, empty plastic milk bottles, shredded bits of stories I’d discarded etc. in the grey wheelie bin. Could I find the blighter? Nope.
Undaunted, I set off but not before attaching my England flags to the rear windows. I know everybody else did it weeks ago but I’m always slow to catch on to these things. Come on the lads! Keep the Faith! (BYW, Mr Terry, kindly remember who you are i.e: not French. Talk with your boots.)
Now, where was I? The journey. OK. The A1 was pretty quiet and the sunshine helped, although I felt aggrieved that I couldn’t find a radio station I liked. Radio 1 was too loud and lairy, Radio 2 too middle of the road, Radio 4 too intense and the local radio too rubbish.
After two hours of driving and station flicking (when it was safe and legal to do so, readers) I reached the M25 turn. I need to brace myself for the unbridled joy that is the M25 so I pulled off at South Mimms and parked in the space reserved for caravans – I didn’t mean to – I just did. I hate service station car parks. Don’t get me started…
At Mimms I had planned to buy an ice cream in memory of my grandma whose 96th birthday would have been today (if she hadn’t died when she was 93). She loved ice cream, my grandma. Sadly, the nearest thing on offer was a Starbucks’ strawberry and cream frappiccino but it tasted delicious. Cheers, Grandma! Happy Birthday.
The M25 was no better or worse than usual, the M3 was busier than expected and I managed to mess up my exit into Portsmouth by ignoring my satnav instructions to follow the Ferry. I had visions of ending up in Cherbourg but no, after negotiating a few more roundabouts than necessary I managed to find the Upper Mount Hotel in Southsea without too much stress.
So here I am. It’s 18.31. I’ve unpacked. I’ve graded the room (7 out of ten – bonus points for having free wifi, a modern bathroom and plenty of space). I’ve had a good neb round Southsea, which is pleasant, if showing signs of tiredless round the edges, like a lot of English seasides. I’ve taken lots of pictures of some interesting buildings and now all I need to do is wait for Tom to arrive so we can plan just how brilliant Reads United are going to be at Fratton Park tomorrow!