You are never going to guess where I am, right now as I post this blog. I am on the M25 and have just driven past junction 13. 'It's a technological miracle!' I hear you exclaim, 'but what the devil are you doing surfing the internet on the M25 on a Thursday night?'
If you remember last week when Becky and I got back from a meeting in London, and Phil asked if we fancied a sailing trip in the Mediterranean? Well yesterday evening, I got a call from Phil, "don't forget that we are going on holiday tomorrow. You need to bring your suitcase to work with you in the morning because we are leaving for the airport at 5pm."
Blimey. Good job he reminded me. I had totally forgotten about arranging that. Hence I find myself on a coach on the way to Gatwick airport, but not before a fraught day in the office. You will be pleased to hear that Becky had also forgotten that we were going on holiday, and as such was in the same boat as me in that she only had a wardrobe full of winter clothes. Phil was eavesdropping the conversation, and it prompted him to realise that the only shoes he owned were his safety shoes, and they didn't exactly constitute 'appropriate beachwear'.
The whole sorry situation necessitated an emergency trip to a clothes shop called Matalan, and below Becks is showing you something called a 'Tankini' that she purchased. I think it sounds like an Italian flatbread, but she assures me that it is the correct technical term.
It got to 5pm, and Becks, Phil and myself jumped into the car and were spirited to the Thornhill Park and Ride just outside Oxford where we waited for the X80 bus which goes directly to Gatwick. It was at this point that Phil decided to strip down to his underwear and change out of his workwear. As you can imagine, the queues of commuters waiting for their buses raised a few eyebrows.
The novelty of going on a bus soon wore off when we realised that they weren't like taxis in that you can dial them to order. I managed to get a picture of Phil and Becks looking enthralled after waiting for half an hour.
I haven't been on a bus for many years, and the only thing I know about them is that you can't upgrade to Business class, so imagine my astonishment when the X80 arrived, we climbed on board and the driver said, "that'll be £75.00 please."
I nearly choked, and spluttered "you are bloody joking aren't you? Do that include a three course meal and complimentary Champagne?"
"Nah, love," he replied, "just the diesel to get us there," and started guffawing to himself. No wander people are up in arms about using public transport when it costs so much.
The one good thing that I did notice was that there were plugs next to all the seats, and a sign saying 'free wi-fi'. Woo hoo! hence I find myself blogging whilst I am speeding down the M25. How weird is that? Me blogging is the subject of the blog, and I am creating the content whilst I am going along. Yikes, that has totally freaked me out.
Anyway, to get back to reality, I thought I would include this wonderful picture of the elegant Becky on a bus.
And to the many people who never thought they would live to see the day when I got on public transport, I have attached a irrefutable evidence (complete with laptop - what a geek). Gatwick, watch out, we are coming!