Road Trip Day 1

Yesterday I got exceedingly excited. She, was, packing!

Did this mean?! Could this mean?! We’d be heading back to the world where the outside moves? I climbed into the bag cringing at the thought of the cat caravan coming out, maybe She’d let me travel in this bag instead.

Sadly for Tilly it didn’t mean heading back to Oleanna, despite the high decibels of her purring.

For several years we’ve talked about doing a road trip up to Scotland. Anne, one of Mick’s sisters moved there 13 years ago, followed about 4 years ago by some other friends. Things started to align a few weeks ago. A lodger willing to look after Tilly, the boat repaint not happening yet, reasonable weather, longer hours of daylight. We put our long thought about plan into action, tweeked dates a touch to fit in with other peoples plans and hired a car for a week, insured for two drivers.

Early Friday morning Mick headed off to pick up our Fiat 500. No openable sunroof, but we weren’t aiming to have more than the two of us inside, unlike in Mick’s teenage years! By now the penny had dropped with Tilly, I’d not packed enough bags for a return to the boat, so her purring turned into sulking under the bed. Since adopting Tilly ten years ago, this would be the longest she’d be apart from the two of us. I just hoped she’d be polite to Vicky our lodger for the next week.

Normally when we have a car we turn right at the bottom of the road, but this time it was left, we were heading northwards. A pause at Proudfoots to purchase some Easter eggs as gifts, then we were off along the winding roads up the North Yorkshire Moors. Here the fires that caused chaos and serious concern last summer have left black scars across the land.

Up to Newcastle then a left to have a pause at the Angel of the North. I’d hoped there might be some shore based facilities here. Only one available, a chilled medication van, doing a pretty good trade. We had a walk around Anthony Gormley’s giant structure, but a wee break was really required so we pressed on to a nearby Sainsbury’s. After a comfort break we sat and had a lovely view to eat our butties that I’d prepared for us both.

We headed on westwards to Carlisle and started to see signs to Scotland. All this time sat in the car I managed to finish off the first of my Felicity Edition Sockathon socks. It’s quite baby pink and not really my kind of sock, but that’s not the point of the Felicity Edition, although I have added a band of darker pink to help count rows.

Finally, we were into Scotland and carrying on heading northwards. In my late teens and early twenties I would drive friends up to Kirkcudbright for long weekends or weeks, but today we were bound for further north.

The satnav suggested a slightly quicker route through Glasgow, but that meant we missed out on the Erskine Bridge and got slightly lost in the process. We also missed out on driving along the old runway at the now closed Renfrew Airport that Mick’s Dad would have landed and taken off from when he was a pilot. Nowadays the M8 follows the course of the old runway. Maybe we’d manage that on our way back home. We did however get our first view of the Forth and Clyde Canal at a bridge.

Out the other side of Glasgow we headed for Helensburgh where Anne and Alasdair have lived for thirteen years. There was a very warm welcome and a very nice Shepherds Pie, thank you Anne.