264. Practice run 1

Saturday morning and we went on our usual routine of getting up late, of walking up to market and having a drink on a terrasse but once back home instead of the usual brunch of bacon and poached eggs and spinach we loaded the picnic basket and a couple of extra bags into the vehicle and headed into the wild wide world.

'Where to?' Asked my husband as we reached the first roundabout.

Without any hesitation, as if I had everything planned to a tee, I answered:

'First exit. Head onto D948.'

This sounded good. I loved the sound of those words. It gave me the feeling that these practice runs were not much use really. I was ready as ever for an overland adventure. Yet I kept these thoughts to myself. After all I knew this turn off; we were only about a mile from our home.  

We drove up the hill, past the Commonwealth Cemetery where I had taken my students on an exciting field trip (and planned one more as we drove past). We drove past the prison (no thinking of the students here), past the small insignificant airfield with so much history and then suddenly all around us was just countryside. Hedges of tall green grass dotted with bright red poppies that shimmered in the weak sunshine, trembling in the breeze. Beyond were rows of green crops following the soft undulations of the landscape and the finishing touches of the small dots of black and white cows looking up and dirty grey sheep munching away. The magic of being on the road with no specific destination worked its way on my mind and I forgot my job and my students, my house and even my kids and just sank into my seat, lulled by the soft roaring of the vehicle. 

'Straight on at next roundabout. Second exit. And you will stay on D948 for 18 km.'

I could sense my husband was impressed although he did not say anything. I was not using directions, only the map and therefore he could not see the route nor hear directions. He had to trust me, his wife. Now that bit definitely needed a few practice runs.

'Round about ahead. Straight on. Second exit.'

It was as if both of us were on our best behaviour. Me giving super precise directions with plenty of warning and him paying attention to them and taking them into account. As if we knew that if we messed it up we could not be serious about any big adventure. 

'Any idea where we are going?' My husband asked after I'd told him to take the D126.

'The coast. A tiny seaside town. We can stop there, go for a walk, have a drink or two.'

'Sounds like a plan.' My husband replied as he changed gear and roared the vehicle on a bumpy narrow road.

As planned we parked the car, walked to the seafront and when we reached the beachfront the whole scene became a tone darker, as if some lights had been turned off somewhere. People started to pack their things and were leaving the seafront, walking, cycling, driving. The flags were restless and noisy, sun hats were seen flying around the place and a dull rumble could now be heard. The threat of pouring rain and of a violent thunderstorm did not put people off completely, there seemed to be an indecision between hanging around to enjoy the show of thunder and lightning as the finale of a grand day at the beach and a wish to be remain dry and safe. Restaurants advised people not to sit outside and tied their awnings and umbrellas. The mix between the remaining sunlight and the darkness of the clouds, between the sounds muffled by the winds and the feverish agitation in the street made us want to stay there and watch. Like the opening scene of a movie. Full of expectancy.

After the heat of the day a storm was what we would have wanted: the perfect opportunity to check if the vehicle was waterproof. Or not. 

We found a café, sat - inside - and waited for the rains.