Forwards and occasionally sidewards – everyday musings of life

When Chris Rea sang about the M4 and M25 being the road to hell, he’d clearly never tried navigating the A303 around Stonehenge on a summer Friday. That is actual, unadulterated hell.

There is a very good reason I haven’t ventured onto that dreaded stretch of road at lunchtime on a Friday for years: it was utterly jammed, and every local cut-through, back lane, and clever detour was equally gridlocked.

The journey to Mum’s took twice as long as it should have. Still, it was a glorious day and I was in no particular rush. The salad Mum had prepared for lunch wasn’t going anywhere, the car was comfortable, the air conditioning was blowing cold, and I had good music on. All I had to do was lean into a bit of Carma driving: sit back, accept the crawl, and enjoy the ride.

When we got back, Mum was completely gob-smacked by the house. She genuinely couldn’t spot a single trace of the old bungalow. Once the initial shock wore off, she settled into the comfortable chairs out on the deck with a cup of tea and her newspaper, taking in the warm shade and the view of the garden.

Mum officially approves.