233. On the road again (1)

This is not the great African adventure but it is a trip in the car and as I grab this opportunity to test the ‘You drive, I blog’ thesis.

After all we are heading South. All the way down we are headed South, and this could be the practice run for the TGA.

The rain is falling quick and heavy onto the road and the cars are whizzing down the busy motorway, sending fine spray all over, blocking the view. We cannot tell grey tarmac from grey skies. The constant swish-swish of the wipers, the soft purring of the engine, the whirring of the air conditioning and the low murmur of the radio are sending us passengers into a pleasant soft doze. Even my husband’s moaning at inconsiderate and incompetent drivers (all of a nationality different from his) sounds fuzzy, as if some old VCR was playing somewhere in the back.

I am getting reasonably good at touch typing and so here I am typing away.

‘What’s are you doing?’

‘Blogging. Practising for Africa.’

‘Oh.’

I look up at him still typing away. His look is a mixture of pleased and impressed, curious and puzzled. 

‘The roads will be bumpier in Africa, I know that.’

We had scheduled departure at 6 AM.

‘6 AM in the car.’ My husband told Baby.

However, due to some technical problems his alarm did not go off as planned and by the time we got ready we were exactly 1:45 hour behind schedule. 

‘Who cares? We’re on holiday.’ I said wisely.

By the time the food, the cases, my Wellington boots, my camera, the tea and coffee and cake, the pillows and the blankets I finally put my shoes on and, slippers in hand, got into the rather full to the brim car. Baby and thee dog were settled in the back and my husband was already behind the wheel. 

‘Let’s go!’ I said. And off we went.

I can feel the car slowing down and I wake up from my daze to realise we have reached the roundabout before the motorway toll. My husband looks at me, sees that I am not sleeping and asks:

‘Have you got the keys?’

Bucket of cold water effect. 

‘KEYS!’ I scream, waking up Baby and the dog at the same time. The dog starts barking and Baby asking why we are waking her up so rudely already.

‘Better pull over to the side before the motorway.’ I say, trying to sound super calm.

I had been meaning to look for the keys all week, yet had not got round to it. I had no idea where they were. I remembered locking the door, taking the keys with me but then. Blank. 

‘May be they are still in the car?’ My husband says and he starts rummaging in the box between the seats.

I am thinking if they are not in that box then we will have to drive back home and start hunting all over the place - as I have no idea of where they could be - and then we will be hours, days maybe, behind schedule. Shame on me. I will never be ready for Africa. 

Meanwhile oblivious to the psychological turmoil which has taken over his wife, my husband is pulling out various crumpled important looking bits of paper, coins, parking tickets, a pen and a few sweets. I am thinking that if there were any keys in there he would have pulled them out first. 

‘What are those?’ 

He pulls out string with things dangling from it.

I reach for the ceiling, fiddling with some buttons and eventually some bright lights come on. 

THESE ARE KEYS.

‘Are these the keys we are looking for?’

I cannot tell really. The small one looks like the key for the French window and we do use that in the summer but the other one seems a bit too shiny and could be the key for the house next door. I ask Baby to take responsibility for this (Yes, appalling mothering skills, I know).

‘Are these the keys?’

A sleepy nod from the back.

‘Yes.’

‘This is not good enough. Are these the keys for the house or not? You need to be sure. Try and remember!’

My husband maybe thinks it but he does not say anything. He does not ask why I do not know if there are the right keys. After all I was there only 8 weeks before.

The engine purrs and the headlights beam high and bright, the toll barrier lifts and we are off. No turning back. I have a vision of the three of us and the dog trying to break into our own house; Hopefully there wont be too many residents in the village this time of year.

We’ve been driving on cruise mode for some time now. The key issues is forgotten and we are all convinced that these are the keys. All is well. I am snuggled up in the passenger seat staring at the countryside coming into view as the sun is finally rising. I imagine myself walking through the fields and up and down paths, kicking the autumn leaves, crushing damp twigs with my feet, feeling warm in my …

‘Oh No!’

My husband looks at me with his what-now look on.

‘I left my coat in the house!’