Occasional Scribbles

Well honestly, really, I am absolutely pathetic!  The Other woke me up with a cup of tea yesterday (nice of him I know) so that I would be on time to leave for Heathrow airport to collect the Elder Teen whose plane was due in at 2.30pm.

I’d spent some considerable time the day before preparing for this journey, checking the route on multimap and setting up the sat nav just to be on the safe side.  I’ve only used the sat nav once before as I so rarely go anywhere I don’t know and am not too familiar with the set up process.  I typed in the airport address but since the last time I tested the machine, it tried to take me home via heavens know where, I wasn’t too confident about using it.  The trouble was I wasn’t too confident about a couple of complicated looking junctions either so thought it would help me there.

It was pouring down with rain and The Other made a comment about having a rotten journey and I only just held back a resentful remark about the fact that it was a Dad’s job to drive to the airport but obviously he has long since given up on any parental duty and responsibility.  I was feeling bitter inside but kept quiet. He hovered anxiously over me as I filled a flask with coffee, gave him a demo of the sat nav so he knew I could operate it (sort of) and waited while he checked the oil and water in the car (yes, he does still manage that), before setting off.  I was feeling sick.  I hate going places I’m not familiar with but told myself not to be such a weed and that it was really only three roads between home and the airport, though quite a lot of miles.  How could I possibly go wrong, it was almost all motorway and ‘A’ roads.

I knew I was panicky when I stopped at the garage, sure that my tyres needed air.  I got out in the rain, fiddled with the air thingey and couldn’t read the meter properly as it was so wet, it looked like there was plenty of air so I don’t really know why I was fussing.  Back in the car, I was now soaking and the windows were steamy.  I got myself organised again, sorted out my ipod, and the coffee flask to hand and set off to the sound of Pink Floyd to calm my nerves.

I knew the first third of the journey, a road I travel often but wasn’t sure about the huge junction onto the M25 and so I left the sat nav on and the annoying man’s voice kept interupting Floyd all the way along.  As we, sat man and I, approached the first of the junctions, his wierd voice shouted at me (I had to have him loud so as to hear him over the music) to ‘bear right’.  Bear right?  I thought I was going left!.’  I stupidly decided to take the sat man’s advice since this junction was the first junction where I felt I needed his help.  On I went, feeling strongly that I should be turning onto the M25 at any minute and thinking how clever the sat man was in avoiding all that complicated road system.  And then I found myself heading into London.

I had a strong urge to turn around but the traffic going the other way was appalling so on I went.  After a mile or two I realised that the sat idiot was taking me all the way across London (how utterly stupid of him) and I pulled over and got out the map.  I struggled to read the tiny print and eventually got out my very unflattering reading glasses which I usually strongly deny that I need.  Now map reading is one of those things I find really hard.  I have to turn the map upside down and I can’t tell right from left to save my life which also makes the sat man and I struggle to communicate.  I’d been practicing the day before in fact.

I see that I need to find my way onto the M11 and that it’s quite a long way away and the Sunday traffic is awful.  I curse the wretched machine.  It was supposed to make this journey a piece of cake.  I stare resentfully at it.  I daren’t try and re-route it for fear I will end up in Cornwall or Scotland and I daren’t turn it’s volume down incase I can’t get it back up if I need it later on.

It’s astonishing what you can do when you really have to.  I managed to find the M11 (with the help of a man from a garage when I got lost again) and soon I was on the M25 – phew!  Needless to say the M25 was busy, it was packed, spray from the car in front made it a dangerous nightmare.  What were all these people doing on the road on a Sunday?  It was stop and start the whole way for no apparent reason.  I was begining to fret about being late and coupled with the mad mutterings from sat man who, at every juction told me to ‘take the next exit’ the entire way, was close to having a breakdown.  Fortunately Heathrow was sign posted the entire length of the M25 and when I eventually reached the M4, I knew the sat man was finally talking sense.  He got me right into the terminal though I really didn’t need his help by then and I got into the arrivals hall at 2.30 on the dot.

An hour and a half later as I watched numerous people coming off a dozen planes, all being greeted by family or taxi men with signs, The Teen trundled towards me.  Seeing me, he dropped his bags and flung his arms around me, hugging me so tightly he nearly strangled me.  The top of my head was firmly held in the crook of his arm as he is so much taller than me and he gave me the biggest hug of his life.  Finally it all seemed worth the awful journey, the mean and stupid sat man, the rain and the worry.

I paid the exhorbitant £6 for an hour and half’s short stay parking and we got back to the car. I briefly told The Teen about the sat man but The Teen, coming from laid back Kiwi land and a 27 hour flight was completely chilled and when I told him the Younger Teen and I got lost on our way out of the airport when we dropped him off he said, “hey don’t worry Mum, it’s all good” as I set the sat man on course for home.  In all our chatter, I didn’t hear sat man and again I got lost trying to exit the airport.  “It’s next LEFT Mum, LEFT Mum” shouts the Teen while I turn right.  In all the excitement my ability to find left and right have completely deserted me again.  We giggle away at this typical piece of behaviour and eventually with The Teen’s help, (sat man’s gone crazy) we finally get onto the right road.

The journey back is so much easier than the way in and I turn off sat man.  The Teen keeps me amused with tales of all his exploits, some of which he really shouldn’t tell a Mum, but I don’t care.  I laugh anyway so glad am I that he is safely back and ignore things I should be cross about.  I tell him that his friends have been visiting me in all these months while he’s been away which he had asked them to do before he left.  We were both impressed with how they had continued to do this after such a long time.  “They love you Mum, your a legend, they can talk to you about things they can’t with their own parents, hell, they consider you an extra Mum” he says and I know it to be true though part of me feels I should be more grown up and less of a Teen myself.

As we near home, I’m anxious to find out if the Teen’s friend has picked up the Younger Teen who has been away for the weekend.  We turn into the drive and ominously there is no sign of his car.  The Elder Teen is disappointed, hoping to see his friend and brother.  We go into the house and they are both there. I realise they were teasing us and have hidden the car.  Lots of hugs and hello’s ensue and then the friend, looking awkward gets my attention.  “The Teen and I had an accident today” he says nervously.  “Yea Yea”, I say laughing at him but I finally see he is telling the truth.

Another journey has unfolded earlier in the day.  An American has made the same trek from the airport in a hire car, hours before us.  Just as my Teen and friend round the sharp bend only a mile from home, the American pulls out of a drive and rounds the bend on the wrong side of the road.  The two cars collide.  I thank God that while I was so wrapped up thinking about the Elder Teen all day, that inspite of a head on collision, both lads were wearing seat belts and though the friend’s car is a right off, neither of them are injured.

That’s how things happen.  When you least expect it.  In the blink of an eye.  Thank you God for bringing my Teens home safely to me.

BTW, I checked out the sat man, as I was puzzled that he found it so hard to get me to the airport.  Someone, oh alright, me, had told him to get to me to the airport avoiding all motorways!!!