I don’t think I got out of second gear until I reached Hooley.
You know what they say about those of us who come from the wrong side of town. Avoiding paying London’s congestion charge, avoiding congestion, and going my memory while approaching what you do remember from the wrong direction,-it wasn’t going to be a quick exit from London.
It’s quite a challenge using the phone’s GPS map, steering, changing gears, looking for street signs. I just didn’t pack enough arms. Something had to give and it was the phone. So I travelled on intuition. Previously I have always had a local guide who knows all the short cuts to avoid traffic. Just as it helps to know the difference between left and right, so too being able to remember whether it was the A23 or A24 help. Of course I could always have re-read my host’s directions but who reads instructions? The further you go down the one wrong road, the further it is cross-country to get on the correct one.
Of course there were lots of familiar names, and I learnt quite a few I had never heard before, hoping at any minute there would be a sign for Gatwick, because then I knew it was on the way to Brighton, and was the direction I was after.
On the way I thought I would stop for a drink. There were plenty of opportunities to get food from vendors parked in lay-bys.
How could I resist Foodie Doodies, with the al fresco seating. Foodie was a large gentleman and it concerned me that perhaps this was not a good advertisement for his burgers. However the van was spotless inside and I did avail myself of a seat to drink my coke.
Onwards.
Next time I’ll hire a Bentley with a driver.
Father M 