From Kent to Essex

Feb 8

This was to be the day that John was off to see his Dad's side of his family. When he woke he was not feeling very well at all. He attributed this to nerves because he was going to have to drive through some pretty heavy traffic. He was also sad to say farewell to Val and the family. Val made him a piece of dry toast and some tea and he felt a little better and said that he was sure it would pass. However, he still had to visit the bathroom a few more times.

The driver from Enterprise, the rental car company, came to pick him up a little later than agreed but that was ok John thought as long as he could make it to Linda's before dark. It was a cold day with occasional snow flurries and the weather had put the car company behind in their pick ups. The driver, though, was a really nice guy and he had been a London bus driver before retiring. He had driven some of the routes that John had ridden on with his Mum and Dad when he was a small boy: the 47 and the number 1. Of course the driver had driven those routes when John was already in Canada but he was fascinated to hear how the system worked with drivers and conductors being teams who always worked with each other. The driver had, in fact, married his conductor.

Soon they were at the rental depot and John bid his driver farewell and was accompanied into the office by one of the office staff. It turned out to be the easiest and best car pick up he has had. The guy walked him through the whole process quickly and easily, helped to take his luggage to the car and gave him a run through of the controls. The only trouble was that the car was not full of gas. He has to return it with the same amount in it but that is hard to work out when it is only at a quarter tank. It is much easier to fill up when you arrive back.

It was a brand new black Volkswagen Polo (950 miles on the odometer) and it had a lot of bells and whistles. It was a tight little car and felt like it would be very steady on the road.

Then John was off. The driver had told John the easiest way to get to the divided highway from the office. He had pointed out the way to go on the first roundabut, told John to take the right hand side of the next roundabout and then just go straight through all the other roundabouts until getting to the M2.

John followed the instructions but he seemed to be heading in the wrong direction through many, many roundabouts and then out into open farmland. At one point he was right beside Canterbury Cathedral in the middle of town. In the end he pulled over, got out Alan's phone GPS and it said he was going in the right direction.

He arrived at the M2 and zoomed out onto the highway. He found it difficult because all the distances, speed limits and speedometer are in miles not kilometres and he had to look in the rear view mirror on the other side. He heeded Alan's warning not to overtake European trucks in the lane beside them (they have left wheel drive and cannot see cars directly beside them).

Then it started to snow.

The flurries became very heavy. So much in fact that it was hard to see very far down the road. The car's temperature guage said it was 2 degrees Celsius so the snow was not settling.

Then fuel gauge started to beep.

John missed the first service centre and eventually saw a sign for the next one. It said 13 miles. Now 13 miles is a lot further away than 13 km. The fuel gauge was beeping again when John pulled in. He filled up the car and it took 42 pounds to fill it. That is about $70Cdn.

He pulled back out onto the highway and felt more comfortable. He knew he was taking the Dartford Crossing and the signs were plentiful. He had his one pound fifty for the toll ready and followed the signs even when they seemed to be going the wrong way. He only made one mistake, being in the wrong lane to go to the A12 east after passing through the tunnel and a truck driver blew his air horn to complain. For John such a trip in England was a miracle of good directions.

He reached Linda's by 3:30pm and the light was still good. It is a very nice house on a little side street of a small English country village. She welcomed him inside but by now he was really feeling sick. He had a fever and all his muscles were aching. He offered to go to a hotel rather than share whatever disease he had but she would have none of it.

After showing John to his room, a lovely bedroom on the second floor facing the front of the house, she said he could lay down if he wanted and although just arriving he said thank you and did just that. It felt so good after the two hour drive to know he was there and didn't have to worry about finding his way.

He came down in time to see his cousin Alan and his son, Stewart come in. Then Nigel, Linda's husband came home and finally Linda's daughter Rachel came in with her two cute children, Josh, 4, and Bella, 2, and her husband, Nick. The company really perked John up and he started to feel a little better. John had last seen Alan in 1965 because Alan had lived in the US with his wife the last time John was back in the UK. Alan said that he had thought John was bigger than him because John WAS bigger... in 1965! No longer so!

After the company had gone, Linda, Nigel and John sat down to dinner. Linda had cooked a lovely dinner of beef, potatoes, veggies and gravy that was delicious but John's stomach was still feeling very off. Although Linda had only put a little on his plate he still couldn't finish it.

The three had a good conversation after dinner and he learned a lot about the family, and Alan's work. By 9pm though John was really feeling that he needed to lie down badly and he went to bed.

It was a bad night. John could not get comfortable because of his aching body. He could not get the temperature right... first he was too hot and then too cold and then too hot again. It was nothing to do wth the excellent heating system; it was John's body fevering up and down. He tossed and turned all night and he realized that he had a pretty bad stomach flu bug. At one point in the night he contemplated abandoning the blog. But that is a story for tomorrow.

TRB