We are in Devon.
This is a jolly long way from Elgin, which is near Inverness, and is where we woke up yesterday morning.
The poor camper van is puffing and wheezing in indignation.
Actually it isn’t. The engine is running quite smoothly once it gets going. It is registering its protests quite simply by refusing to start. Mark has fixed the ignition problem by installing a new switch, and the camper van has retaliated by melting the new starter motor,
It starts all right, but only once he has crawled underneath and bashed it with a hammer.
I think probably the problem is that the camper van has just got too used to dozing in an elderly manner on Ellerthwaite Square, having its photograph taken by admiring tourists. It is now very disgruntled at being asked to rush up and down the country like a teenager.
We are sympathetic but determined, and hence this evening we are driving through unfamiliar and impossibly crowded landscapes on our way to Number One Daughter’s graduation, which will be tomorrow.
We are not attending the ceremony. We are looking after Ritalin Boy, who is not very interested in graduations, and who is inclined to fidget when he is not very interested in things.
I can be a bit inclined to fidget as well, and have every sympathy. I have made some cakes out of Cheerios and marshmallows, and have brought them with us by means of ensuring a tranquil afternoon.
At the time of writing we are not quite in Plymouth. We are still on the motorway, and as always, I am astonished by the massive quantity of traffic on the road in the south of the country. There is a jolly lot more down here than there was in the Highlands the other night.
Mark has been driving all day today, because I wanted to get on with writing the story that I am entering in the writing competition. They do not want you to submit a whole story, just the first chapter. I have written the first chapter now, and am longing to write the second, it is clawing at the inside of my head so desperately that if am not careful it will simply crawl out of my ears.
Mark thinks that the first chapter is fine, but he always thinks that everything is fine, so I have put it on the university website so that the rest of my class can tell me exactly what is wrong with it.
* * *
It is now very much later, eleven o’ clock, in fact, and we are about to go to bed. You will not be astounded to hear that we have been drinking.
We are in Plymouth, which is a very long way away from the Lake District. It is too dark to see very much yet, but we have been entirely surprised to discover how huge and cosmopolitan it is. It is a mere seaside port, and I had imagined that it would be a sort of southern version of Barrow, much the same except you wouldn’t be able to get gravy and mushy peas with your fish and chips.
It is not. Everything in the civilised world is to be found here. It is brightly lit and full of people. You could probably fit Barrow into it about four times and still have room for Kendal.
We have found a handy parking place and parked in it. Then we ambled across to the hotel lounge and met my parents, who are here for the same event, obviously.
We drank wine and exchanged travellers’ tales, because getting to Plymouth is a mighty adventure from just about anywhere. Then we came back to the camper van and took the dogs for a last empty before bed.
It is also very much warmer here. I am not surprised that people in the south are getting themselves worked up about Global Warming, because it is positively balmy. You could actually believe, down here, that maybe the earth really is beginning to heat up. It is perfectly warm enough not to wear a coat, and it is almost November.
I have got no idea why they are all worrying about their gas bills, because they must hardly need central heating at all. We were in Scotland yesterday, and I can jolly well tell you that we needed the fire on up there all right, and Oliver asked for more thermal underwear to take with him.
We are enjoying it very much. We will put our shorts and sandals on and do some exploring tomorrow when it is daylight, because I would like to see where Drake said that England was expecting every man to do his duty, and chucked his jacket into the puddle for the Queen to walk on.
Foreign travel broadens the mind.
