The first leg of our big trip
was a three-night jaunt to Bath. The reasons for Bath were myriad but the main one was that , we were meeting our friends on Friday in the Forest of Dean and
Bath was on the way-ish... Don't question my British geography too closely --
for a tiny country, it packs in an inordinate number of roads, all of them
narrow and tricksomely un-grid patterned. Then they chuck in roundabouts and
distract you with Galaxy Bars, Roast Lamb flavoured chips (crisps) and feverish
press coverage of Royal Births and you're basically guaranteed to get lost before
leaving the parking lot (car park).
We debarked from the plane at
Gatwick (in addition to getting the date of our actual departure from Canada
wrong in our initial planning, I had originally done all of our organizing
based on the premise that we'd be landing at Heathrow – not the same airport as
Gatwick, FYI).
Anyhoo, we eventually made it to
the correct rental car spot to pick up our car. As you may have gathered, I was a bit apprehensive about driving on the left in the UK, especially because I knew we'd be jet lagged when picking up the car.
Things got worse when we were
"upgraded" to some gigantic, ridiculous MERCEDES. Not only is the car
very large, but it is also very expensive, which makes it all the more nerve
wracking waiting for the inevitable side swiping of a car mirror (Rue Marcel Marien,
Scharbeek, Belgium) or parking debacle (also Rue Marcel Marien, Scharbeek,
Belgium) that is bound to occur.
While the overnight, trans-Atlantic Air Transat flight
with a three year old hadn't been harrowing thanks to our miraculously good tempered child, it wasn't a trip to the
beauty salon, either. We were all quite exhausted, dirty, tired and pretty sick
of each other and we hadn't even made it to Hour 10 of the trip. We’d prepaid
our rental car, but when we got to the counter we were hit by the extras -- 5 pounds a day for
the car seat and another 10 pounds a day
for the GPS...
Andy and I looked at each other – we obviously love Violet and would never compromise her safety in order to save a lousy 5 pounds a day (plus, we'd get in some seriously big trouble if we were caught...) so skimping on
the car seat wasn't an option. But, could we survive without a GPS? Andy said it would be fine,
we’d buy a map... I was dubious, but as a wise woman once explained to me – a
marriage is a ship sailing on stormy seas, it can only ever have one captain,
and that captain must always be the man. I therefore swallowed my objections, nodded
lovingly and said “Yes dear.”
Thus, unarmed with any navigational equipment but our own
innate sense of how-to-get-there-ness (which, to be fair, Andy actually has)
the sweaty, tired, un-teeth-brushed Hortecs zoomed onto the Motorway chanting “driver
in the middle, driver in the middle” --
Our next stop was Bath, which Andrew persisted in calling "Shower" to Violet's delight. Really, how can I be expected to to put up with their juvenile sense of humour, especially when it's drowning out someone's analysis of whether or not Kate and Wills will opt for cloth or plastic diapers (nappies)?
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