We're Off

The mini bus to take us to the coach station arrives at 7.00am. The driver’s surprise at the amount of luggage we have turns to amazement as he tries to put our small green case on top of the pile. He’s probably never tried to lift a case full of wine boxes before.

From our seat in the coach all we can see is sea of grey heads. Women with tight grey perms. Men with loose grey hair and pink bits. Looks like the line dancing classes will be full – ye ha. We stop briefly at Keele to change incontinence pads and stock up on Daily Mails and then it’s into a long traffic jam on the rainy M6. A lorry had hit the central crash barrier and shed its load all over the motorway. The general view is that the driver will be Polish.

Lunch is at the Services on the M6 Toll. We’ve eaten there before and so have brought sandwiches. £2 for a cup of coffee is reasonable when you consider the staff training required. You can’t just bring someone in off the street to make coffee that foul. You need at least a GNVQ in elementary poisoning. Nothing happens on the rest of our trip so I eat a box of Liquorice Allsorts out of boredom and arrive at Southampton feeling slightly sick.

We get on board with only Harold being strip searched. Apparently the over-eighty terrorists are the worst. Because of the traffic jam we’ve arrived late and so it’s straight into the safety lecture where you learn that a tiny light and a whistle will give you something to do when you are drowning.

We’re in the Alexandria Restaurant for dinner with a fabulous table next to a window and it’s time for waiter training. It’s very important on the first night to establish certain principles that your waiters understand are the route map to a good tip. By the end of the meal, despite the language barrier, our two nice young men from Goa understand that for the next fortnight steak comes with chips, Sticky toffee pudding is always served with a helping of ice cream and no meal is complete without port and lots of Stilton. Job done.

Dave C