On Friday morning Emi, the WonderDog and I
blew town super early (in the wagon
and rolling by 4:15 a.m.) on our way to Ireland. I’m not sure when super
late morphs into super early, but I'd wager that a number of the folk we met in the early stages of our journey were
on their way home after a fun night out.
My cunning plan - that involved getting up at such a demented hour - was to try and get past Birmingham and the M6 before the traffic got ugly. I’ve been scarred by the traffic in that neck of the woods before, which is saying something for a Londoner. But I’m happy to report that, this time, my cunning plan worked brilliantly. So well in fact that we were on schedule to arrive 4 hours early for our sailing, which is just a smidgeon too early, even for a control-freak like me.
My cunning plan - that involved getting up at such a demented hour - was to try and get past Birmingham and the M6 before the traffic got ugly. I’ve been scarred by the traffic in that neck of the woods before, which is saying something for a Londoner. But I’m happy to report that, this time, my cunning plan worked brilliantly. So well in fact that we were on schedule to arrive 4 hours early for our sailing, which is just a smidgeon too early, even for a control-freak like me.
So I started casting around for other
things to do, and hit upon the idea of a short detour into Conwy. My travel
buddies were more than up for a little unscripted adventure that took us off
our normal route.