Damn. Forgot the Sofa.

Trip down – sensational. Am now fully equipped and experienced mainland driver. Did A roads, dual carriage ways and many, many, many roundabouts although was a bit rubbish when it came to overtaking anything that wasn’t in the overtaking lane and hence got stuck behind a several beaten up Volvos that contained everything including a piano and a dog. Was only over taken by a caravan once.

“You can go quicker than 40,” Naughty N mentioned breezily.

“I can’t. You need to understand Doris’ aerodynamics,” I explained patiently back. “As a roofless car with her roof folded neatly in the boot, Doris does not stay down on the road in the same way as a great big fat NORMAL car.”

“But you could just go a teensy, weensy bit faster?” naughty N asked.

“I could, but we might die.”

“I think you should risk it.”

So I did. I clutched the steering wheel and I risked our lives by doing 50 and by the time we were half way to Dorchester I had found my confidence.

It was gorgeously sunny.

We took great joy in many shamefully cheesy numbers, intermingled with Blondie, Golden Brown (the heroin song), On A Road To Nowhere and Perfect Day which were less cheesy.

We discussed our fears about Boot Camp.

“I am scared of sit-ups,” I confessed. “I hate sit ups.”

“I’m okay with sit ups.”

“Yes but you only do sit ups if you put your feet under a sofa.”

“And why can’t I put my feet under a sofa at Boot Camp?”

“Because you’ll be lying in a field.”

“Oh yes.” Naughty N paused thoughtfully. “Maybe we should have brought a sofa with us.”


We arrived at our destination five minutes late, which was a shame as it meant we couldn’t have one last glass of beer or any food and instead were whipped to our Devonshire Palace. It is now evening time and we are here. And we are scared but ready for whatever tomorrow brings. Yes.


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