On the High Street and the Exeter Riddle sculpture.
Little did I know that when I touched down in the UK after a lovely flight, that it would take three times as long to get home as it did to fly in from France.We arrived bang on time, picked up my car and left the airport at 11pm. Half and hour later on the southbound motorway, my car was making strange noises. My friend asked if my tyres were okay, she’s considerably more practical than I am, most people on this planet are. So I had no idea. She said we should probably stop at the next services a few miles ahead. Two minutes later she said we need to stop NOW.
I pulled onto the hard shoulder and we saw that my car had a puncture. So it was cold, drizzling and very dark. Most of the traffic was huge lorries driving at crazy speeds and we were stood in a ditch, behind the barrier with cold, sandaled feet hoping my tiny car didn’t get hit.
It took a while for me to remember who provided my breakdown cover, but luckily there was a good signal and once details were taken a very efficient Green Flag lady said someone would be with us as soon as possible.
Pretty soon I had a text letting me know the name of the technician and the registration number of his vehicle and that he would arrive by 1.44am. That was an hour and 20 minutes to wait!
I didn’t know they’d sent another text saying the technician would be there by 2.15, probably just as well, we were already pretty miserable by then, but singing nonsense songs to cheer ourselves up.
Normally on the motorway, we see police cars buzzing around hooping to catch speeding drivers, and the breakdown company had informed Highway the we were an ‘incident’. It would have been reassuring if one had nearby and stopped to check we were okay. No such luck, I bet there would have been if I was speeding though!
Lewis from Newport arrived just after 2.15. He’d driven around 70 miles and had us back on the road in half an hour, driving home on a compact spare tyre at 50 mph. I crashed into bed at 3.40 am.
Breaking down on a motorway late at night is most women’s worst nightmare isn’t it? But never mind, I’ll focus on the nice parts of the journey home from Marseille.
Happy travels everyone!
This young lass doesn’t look particularly tickled does she? But then the shop behind her is probably more my cup of tea than hers.
I’m always tickled pink when I visit Bridport, it’s just that kind of town.
It’s day 11 of Becky’s Square September challenge and I’m leaving on a jet plane!
The hedgerows are changing colour as we transition from summer to autumn, and there are subtle shades of pink if you look closely. This was in the valley park yesterday, where Flora and George wore themselves out chasing swallows.
I hope you’re all feeling in the pink today, have a relaxed Sunday and join Becky’s challenge.
On Saturday I took my sister and 5 year old nephew to town to check out the street festival that was taking place. There was lots to see but we didn’t have very much time.
My favourite dance troupe Kalash Tribal were there with some new routines.
Then this giant green beastie appeared!
My nephew Obi was amazed!
It wasn’t until later in the day that I saw Tina’s challenge this week is colourful, I could have taken lots more photos.
Where would we be without suffragettes?
Join Debbie at travel with intent for 6 word Saturday