Normally, people travel to New South Wales via a stop off in the East. Well, just to be different, I decided that The Road to KL needed a touch of OSW to add seasoning.
As Higgs - the sexy black Peugeot - sadly passed away on 11/11/13, I needed a run-around to tide me over till KL day in August.
Dad has a car in the garage; I need a car. Two birds one rock... little did either of us know that it would go fits up.
The plans were made: tax, mot, and insurance bought. Single train tickets for daughter and I from here to Newport were booked; our day was set. Despite the threat of tsunami floods in the west country, we encountered no delays, disruption to service or wet weather.
We were collected from the futuristic corrugated tin hut, locally known as Newport Station on arrival and whisked away to be treated to a lovely lunch in a cosy cottage on the beautiful rolling hills of Torfean. The day was going like a dream. Or so we thought....
Home time soon arrived, but Dad's NDN had parked across his garage doorway, preventing us from leaving on time. I don't enjoy driving in the dark and had hoped to be back for six. However, the delay of an hour allowed more time for chatting and socializing, something we don't do often enough, and with the mammoth road trip only 31 weeks away, we will have less chance for 104 weeks. So the delay was considered a blessing... what's an hour when you're with family?
Eventually, we were set. NDN's car moved, Gabrielle Aplin in the CD player, and the route planned, via the fill up as the tank was low. In fact it had run out of fuel two days earlier, as the gauge had casually said, "I have a quarter, don't worry!" But, like a good BBC weatherman, he had lied. That's sorted his name for me, Michael Fish!
Little did we suspect, that MF, Michael Fish remember, likes being a Welsh car. Little did we know that MF's tank contained more crap than that spouted by the cast of Celebrity Big Brother 2013. Little did we know that I would soon find another name with the same initials...
Furthermore, we soon discovered that MF's acting is better than the whole cast of CBB, as with a full tank, he began a convincing impression of Skippy the kangaroo from The Clarance to The Turnpike.
In one way I relieved it had happened at 4pm on the outskirts of New Inn rather than at 5pm on the M42. We drifted into a bus lane and awaited rescue from Richard and Dad. Daughter and I decided it was an adventure. It was character building and a little mental torment would make us better people in the future! So we grabbed the opportunity to open our reading material and waited for the verdict.
After a tow to the Garn, a mechanic's overhaul, by 630pm the jury returned a verdict, of not without a new filter. It's okay, he said, the shops will be opens in the morning. But there's no guarantee they will have a filter! "Bother!" I exclaimed, as I'm a professional these days. And set about the trainline app to see if a return to the rose of the shires was feasible at short notice.
Within the hour, number one child and I were stood on the station awaiting the second single journey of the day, this time via London rather than BHX. Only five hours more of public transport before we would be home.
So, home, carless and feeling like we have had our fill of trains, the underground and especially sharing our personal space with drunk, lairy, loud mobile phone users, to last us until at least August 2016.
Roll on the 10th August...
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