10:30.

I’m eschewing my usual mode of transport as the pair of us are driving down to Surrey. Bigland Towers will be in exile in the home counties for the next week, which means taking the bare bones of two office setups with us.

Today’s a good day for travelling, unlike earlier in the week. The sun’s shining, the roads are dry and there shouldn’t be too much commercial traffic on the road…

11:10.

So far so good. We cut across country from Halifax to the M1 via windy A roads that provide the most direct route, although the potholed conditions leave something to be desired. Now we’re on the M1.

11:30.

All was going well until a couple of miles before the junction with the M18 when we hit a jam which we’re now stuck in, crawling along at 7mph.

11:34.

Free! Some poor sod was unlucky enough to break down on a carriageway reduced in size due to roadworks!

12:00.

We’re back on the road again after taking a wee (literally) break at Woodall services – not one I’m familiar with. The place was busy with others with the same idea, doing similar for their four-legged friends and smokers, sucking on fags as they hung around their cars.Motorway services have gone upmarket since my hitchhiking days in the 80s-90s. This one even has a Waitrose supermarket!

13:50.

Having called in at our usual pitsop at Watford Gap we sat in the sun, watching the world go by whilst munching a sandwich on the grass bank at the rear of the service area. The car-park was packed with vehicles as this is such a strategic services due to its location near were the M6 motoway diverges from the M1. One thing I noticed on this visit was how many EV charging stations have been installed and were in use.

Now we’re on our way South, but not by our normal route. The A43 is closed between the M1 and Towcester, so we’re sticking on the M1 and heading for the London orbital carpark (aka the M25).

This section of the motorway brings back so many memories of my hitchhiking days, heading to/from London. When I moved to the capital in 1986 I couldn’t afford the train fare or to hire a van so I spent several weeks hitchhiking back and forth, moving my stuff South by the rucksack load! Happy days!

I had a series of white plastic cards that fitted in my bag, each one bore the number of a main motorway such as “M1 please”, plus one for emergencies when you got stuck for ages. It read “anywhere but here!” It would raise a smile if nothing else but also a lift sometimes.

Funny the way the memory’s jogged sometimes. Near Luton we’ve passed a couple of bikers. Years ago I often came to see a friend who’d moved here and we’d go out and about on this 250cc Honda. Of course, you’re immortal when you’re in your 20s and riding pillion with Duncan could be an ‘interesting’ experience as Duncan enjoyed his beer and exotic substances. So much so his nickname was ‘Duncan disorderly’…

Then (the early 80s) there was a pub in nearby Dunstable that was popular with bikers and hippies. The Wheatsheaf didn-t have a jukebox. Instead it had twin decks so people could bring in their own albums. We’d often bike over there. One time Duncan was a little overzealous with his overtaking and I felt the car coming inthe opposite direction brush against my jeans!

What’s changed so much since those days is the landscape around the motorway. Where it once passed through open fields it’s now hemmed in by massive distribution warehouses for the likes of Amazon, H&M and Lidl.

16:20.

And relax – we’re here in Tilford. The car’s unloaded and it’s time for a breather. The Southern end of the M1 and M25 were very busy but kept flowing, as did the M3. Then we headed across country past Aldershot and the Hog’s Back to reach our destination.

19:00.

Having sorted ourselves out it was time to have a mooch and take Tilly, the family’s Cairn Terrior for a walk. Tilly has a set route, oddly enough, she was insistant thart we called in here – The Barley Mow…

22:45.

‘Tis time to bid goodnight. We’ve had a lovely evening full of food and drink here in Tilford, but now it’s time to call it a day. Tomorrow the Platt family are off to watch the youngest male member of the clan play Rugby. Me? Rugger’s never been a game on my horizon, so I’ll take the camera for a walk somewhere. I just don’t know where yet. Watch this space…

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