The Long Drive Back

Remembering the 400 mile drive home from Llandudno as described in yesterday’s blog, I realised that was only just less than my marathon drive back from Scotland in December 2007.

I’d been visiting Terry T in Fife Council once again post “arson attack”.  It was a standing joke in his management team that I would always receive a text from British Airways notifying me of a delay to my flight back to Heathrow just before leaving for the airport.  It was strange really, as there was never a delay in going up to Edinburgh!

The worst thing about this particular trip however was that Heathrow was forecast to be fog bound for up to three days, so I decided to drive back home rather than hand the car back to Enterprise at Edinburgh airport and get stuck.  

Alas the rental firm had got wise to my request for an automatic, hoping to get a free upgrade to a Mercedes, so all I had for the 450 mile journey from Markinch to Heathrow was a small automatic Nissan Micra…

I resolved to get home as quickly as possible, as no way was I going to miss my family Christmas, so I only made one stop on the whole journey and that was to refuel.  On the way I took a call on my mobile from my concerned boss Roger A making sure I was OK and I smugly answered that everything was under control, how wrong I was…

Eventually I got to the Enterprise car depot at Heathrow but then had to wait ages for a taxi to be free to pick me up and return me safely home in Thorpe.  This is where my problems really started, as my back went into spasm for the whole week after, not exactly the Christmas present I was envisaging.

I can still remember the agony of falling sideways out of bed and slowly dragging myself horizontally to the “en suite” for my ablutions.  Never again!  Shortly afterwards I volunteered to become the UK-Ireland leader and avoid those all too frequent mishaps working in Scotland, just going there on holiday in future.

That said, my first gout attack happened in Edinburgh just after climbing down from the Scott Monument on Princes Street and I remember being in excruciating pain in the plane sat next to a rather unsympathetic Debbie.  Maybe it’s a good job we’re moving to Wales…

The Long Drive Back

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