Flyin'

I think this trip will be full of fleeting glimpses of new places. I drove into Shrewsbury to meet Ben on Friday night and it immediately seemed like a nice town. I loved the red-brick buildings and the river running through the middle. It appeared to have one foot in an industrial (but not ugly) past and the other back even further in history. The castle, tudor facades and winding streets reminded me a little of York. By the time the cyclists turned up though there was hardly time for exploring, just getting to the nearest restaurant (although reluctant to complain, the support driver was starving by this point). I had hoped to return to Shrewsbury on Saturday morning, but after an hour working from a roadside Starbucks I needed to head into Cheshire to make sure I was ready to meet Ben for lunch. Thanks to the lack of big shops in the area I stopped at a lovely Farm Shop for a punnet of strawberries and a loaf of freshly made bread. The strawberries tasted like Cheddar.

The idea of travelling through the centre of Warrington/Wigan/Preston did not fill me with joy so I hopped on the motorway instead. Perhaps I missed out, but I was keen to get to the B&B- ostensibly to work, but instead I fell asleep (by accident, just testing the pillow out...) and then watched Over the Rainbow. Work is spiralling away from me at the moment, I thought I’d have much more time in between meeting Ben, but it just doesn’t seem to work out like that. I do have something important to finish by Monday though so must be strict with myself tomorrow in Gretna. We are camping so I won’t be tempted by Dorothy…

Our B&B, just north of Preston

On the canal in Bilsborrow

Biggest anachronism: Italian bistro, located in an ancient English cellar, playing Demis Roussos…

Most heard song since Tuesday: OMG, Usher (wow oh wow).
I must sort out using the iTrip when I’m driving rather than defaulting to Radio 1 and continuing to rot my brain.

Stumble.Stop.Repeat.

I think the night at home made me lose my momentum. It was very hard to get organised this morning and I was daunted by the thought of packing for the next ten days. It serves me right for leaving it so late I suppose. All my concerns (and guilt) associated with work also resurfaced and for a moment I thought ‘I can’t go away, I’ll just stay here’, before realising it wasn’t really an option. I also had to squeeze in my Pilates class and a trip to the library before I could hit the road and start the long journey up to Shrewsbury. Most days I’ll be meeting Ben halfway, but since he had company on the ride today I drove the whole 120 miles in one go. I was feeling quite glum to start and the steadily increasing motorway traffic wasn’t helping (nor were thoughts of Cornwall). But once I was off the motorway and heading into Herefordshire I started feeling more positive. Ben and I have spent a few weekends around the Shropshire/Hereford area in the last few years, all for bike races. Usually I would see Ben off at the start and then go round exploring, so lots of the roads today felt familiar. The scenery is quite lovely and looked very dramatic with the heavy rain clouds rolling overhead.

Wenlock Edge

It is a great area for local produce and farm shops, especially apple juice and cider. I was tempted to pull over several times when I saw signs, but felt I should keep going in case the Bank Holiday traffic really started to pile up. I’ve never been as far as Shrewsbury and had a shock at the Brummy accents when I went to book in for camping. I blame the sat nav for my temporary loss of bearings, I’m unaware of anything outside the 2x3inch screen!

Now the van is sat in a sunny field behind a pub and I’m watching a few rabbits chase each other round the grass. This idyllic scene is soundtracked by the roar of the A5, so I’m extra glad I packed my earplugs.

Pointless piece of tat of the day: Which part of this, exactly, is therapeutic?

Perilous van moment of the day: Almost buying a 24v travel kettle.

Best driving song: Radio reception was intermittent –and therefore frustrating- most of the way. I did get a burst of 99 Red Balloons somewhere along the A44 which cheered me up, though they cut the German bit. Damn you, Europhobe local radio stations!