Circumnavigation

I’d often wondered how long it would take and what sort of a journey it would be if I were to circumnavigate (or rather, circumsatnavigate) the M25. Anticlockwise, of course.. I mean, who in their right mind would want to go round it clockwise?
Well, now I know.

It’s all the boy’s fault. I wonder if he knows how much I love him and would do for him… or whether he thinks it is simply because it enabled me to have two weeks of peace without him. OK, so maybe he might be just a little bit right too.
Last week he went to Transmission, the Scripture Union holiday in Norfolk. He travelled there fairly independently by train, meeting up with another camper en route, but the end of the camp coincided, as these things are prone to do, with the day his Scout camp was due to begin. Alas. How could we manage to tranfer him thither, let alone do the swapping of bags of clothing – dirty from one camp, clean for another? There again, looking at how often he changed his clothing at camp, he could have just taken the same bag on to Scout camp!!! Yeugh!

And so it was that my friend from church and I set out in my trusty car to Norfolk on Friday morning.
Boy, was the traffic horrendous!

We stopped at Saffron Walden (high on my list of “places to go to again”) en route, and finally followed the little sketch map to find ourselves outside The Crown in Crown Street. It didn’t look quite like the overnight accommodation we’d been expecting – far from it. We’d paid in advance – could we find an excuse for not staying? We drove on, looking for somewhere to get a meal while we pondered what to do. Aha – further down the road was ANOTHER left turn, this time into Crown ROAD and what should we find but THE CROWN. Goodness, that was a relief. This was far more like it, a truly lovely place to stay. And we had to stay overnight because I had been informed, in no uncertain terms by the camp leader, that we MUST NOT arrive A MOMENT LATER than the end of camp. We had been informed, in equally uncertain terms, by the boy that we MUST NOT arrive A MOMENT EARLIER than the end of camp. And so it was at ten a.m. PRECISELY that we rolled up into the campsite and were greeted by a tired, grubby, handsome young man who had had the time of his life at once camp and was ready for a snooze in the car on his way to the next.

He’d grown, I’d swear. And his voice has broken just a tiny bit more.

SO we continued on our way back to the M25 and this time did the eastern and northern arcs, all the way round to Hemel Hemstead where we dropped him off, before completing our circuit home. I dropped my friend off at her house – a brief farewell as we were both ready for a cuppa, a sandwich and a sit down, and leapt back into the car to finish my journey home.

Nothing.

Car battery completely dead. Jump starting it worked for a second, but then cut out immediately. So my time with my friend was extended slightly as I tested out my new registration with Green Flag instead of RAC… new battery, as feared! So my fortnight without my young man cost me the cost of two camps, sixty pounds of petrol, an overnight stay in a hotel, and a brand new car battery!

Still, what better time for it to cut out, when I had a trip to the Isle of Wight the following day and a trip to France in a fortnight. I think I came off quite lightly, truth be told.

And I might add that I DO miss my son. I mean, I have to go now and make MY OWN cup of coffee!