Driving Home For Christmas

Driving home for Christmas. Chris Rea made these road trips appear to be so full of magical festive nostalgia. However as fantastic as it was to be chauffeur driven by my Dad home again (official thank you done) to be sat in the car about 7 hours when it is a 2-3 hour journey…. Is just insane!

Just to put the record straight – I consider myself not to be a complainer or a winger – those titles go to my dearest Papa when frustration rises in his stomach . Growing up with a Mechanic as a father, and a car fanatic, it follows the trend that Dad considers himself to be pretty above standard driver, and anyone who cannot reach this level of skill is indeed a ‘moron’.

Leaving Bournemouth at 3pm there had only been a light sprinkling of the white stuff. To be fair it wasn't settling enough for us to worry about – but on the other hand heavy enough for me to feel ever so Christmassy whilst packing my belongs for the FIRST TIME (eeek) to go home for the holidays.

So as we left at 15 hundred hours and began start the expected life updates for each other expecting to return home in time to grab some dinner and head into our local in town to see a band and have a few drinks.

It seems someone else had other plans in store for us.

We had a safe hour of at good 60mph plus of travelling until we hit issues just outside Dorchester. When I say issues… I mean snow traffic problems…. And when I say snow traffic problems I mean the sighing and huffing coming on my right side, with the occasional expletive. Well that was my problem anyway.

In my eyes there is no point in complaining or sighing or getting frustrated in situations you cannot control – of course this saintly attitude isn't one I always adopt - however I seem not to have picked up my father’s impatience.

After an hour plus of craning our necks, watching drivers get in and out, switching CD’s and even getting my laptop out of the boot to show Dad my embarrassing interview footage, we started to move.

Admittedly it was at the pace of someone who had fallen out of a wheel chair and was pulling themselves along – or at the very least it felt like that. At this point I smugly look over to say “See we’re moving now, at least that’s better than complaining” and we come to another stand still.

“Seriously?!? What’s stopping us now? Stopping on a hill is the worse place to stop.” Unfortunately these were typical famous last words that rang in my ears as I bounced on the bonnet of our lime green Audi Estate trying to ‘gain traction’.

Humiliating is not a strong enough word for the performance I was giving the queues of stationary traffic.  Moving five minutes back in time, the car ahead of us manages to slowly slip its way up the hill.

Aha! Clutch up, hand break off – GO GO GO!

Er – no. The tyres are just gliding over the ice and we’re no further forward than before and the familiar rise of panic affixes to my chest. “You’ll have to get out and push on the bonnet.” I dutifully I get out of the passenger side and began to push hard down on the bonnet attempting to gain some grip, but I keep slipping. “You’ll have to sit on the bonnet to get some weigh on it”.

Oh dear God, am I actually doing this – especially with a car full of barely legal guys opposite me in the queue shouting advice. My logical side was fighting against my emotional, You’ll never see these people again and you need to get home vs. This has to be one of the uncomfortable things I have ever done.

Eventually, the testosterone kicked in for some men and actually decided to get out of their cars and help me and we soon got moving….

We eventually pulled into the drive at 10pm. 7 hours later, with several worried phone calls from distressed clucking Grandma and Mum checking for sure that our pride hadn’t got the best for us and we had just started gnawing on your own shoes to survive.

Now a day later, a semi-successful snowman, a satisfying roast and the fireside burning in the living room (no we haven’t gone back in time – this is just life my life in Devon), it does concern me I’ll be snowed in an not be able to actually see the friends who were my driving force in coming home.

But I think for now I will enjoy the glass of wine in my hand and Ghostbusters on the box (it’s a bit crap, but I seem to have lost the control I earnt over the remote) – I think I will be able to survive for a little bit longer.

SNOWW!!!

Just a random bit I wrote about the cold snap!

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Yay snow… no wait… I’m cold, trapped in my house and lacking food after the enviable milk and bread genocide.

When did this happen? When did my childish glee of snow change to the same bitterness the wind slaps across my face?

As a child, snow was the best thing ever to redecorate the whole of the country since Dick and Dom’s ‘creamy muck muck’ covered their wholesome bungalow. For my generation it used to be so rare. In fact a white Christmas for years on end never appeared from behind those curtains of torrential rain and dullness.

Never too old..... even with childish carrot placement...
January 09

I would yearn for those beautifully supernatural days when as a girl I would wake up early for school to find mum telling me that there’s too much snow to head in. It was pretty much if someone came up to me today to proudly present me free tickets to Glastonbury : A-Mazing!

It would be now when I would be bolting for the nearest exit of the oven and into the freezer. This is no mean feat whilst maternal forces attack with layers and layers of random clothing to avoid catching the dreaded ‘chill’.

Frankenstein slash snowman
 Jan 10

My brother and I used upturn the garden from the smooth picturesque image we had woken to into what would soon become our pride and joy snowman for the remaining few days. The garden became a war zone as we would smash the thick ice that frozen over the water butt and create a crime scene of snow angel outlines across the lawn.

Looking at my window now, whilst wrapped in bed clothes, fluffy dressing gowns, and clutching the standard hot chocolate, I think “F**ks sake!”

I seem to be unable to now separate the joys of flakey white confetti with the unavoidable lurking questions: Why is this seat belt so cold? Why wont my car start? How am I to get to work? And then the resigning thought that all my unfinished work is almost certainly going to create a fortress of paperwork around me.

It’s a sad thing that our frenzied adult lives revolve around the means of travelling to work. It’s times like these when I wished I followed my potential art career. It could be brilliant. I could draw the scene in its entire splendor. That is before I suddenly realize that we are out of milk and debate whether the local shop would be open if I braved to expedition out.

SpeakEasy Photo's

SpeakEasy Thursday 9th Dec 2010 - The Winchester - Bournemouth

Features: Life In The Day: Charlotte Gay

This piece is written in the style of the Sunday Times Magazine, it focuses on my stereotypical day before attending BU.

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A Life in the Day: Charlotte Gay

The Devonshire student, 18, on waitressing and finding the time to seize the day.

My first thought when I wake up is usually 'Where am I?’

This is because of living with parents in separate houses. Once noting where I am staying, I quickly recall what it is I am supposed to be doing that day. I don't mind getting on with my day once I'm up, however since leaving North Devon College I am relaxing in the joy that is the summer time. Of course if you were to try and find North Devon College, you will soon realise it does not exist. 2009 saw our own ‘coalition’ – the North and the East coming together to create… Petroc. Anti-climax? We all thought so.

Bitter Sweet Countryside

However summers’ have always been very bitter sweet to me. Until this year, I couldn't drive and being stuck in the middle of the 'Devonshire Countryside' (although lovely) doesn't look quite so pleasant when the nearest bus is a 40 minute walk away - bad times.

Typically when I'm up I'll grab my own concoction of breakfast. I like to be 'inventive' with my food. The best tool for these creations is a toasted sandwich maker - the possibilities are truly endless. Charlie will usually, however, demand that his needs are met first and insists on weaving in-between my legs and putting his head in the fridge - I should probably mention that Charlie is my cat.

Luckily, though there are breakfast shifts regularly offered to me, I have been able to justify my preference for evening and weekend shift with my ‘college get out of jail free’ card. Waiting is a lot harder than people initially think. Character building? Yes, I have certainly had to toughen up my emotions – I used to get teary as soon as easily as someone making an offhand comment. But being hounded down by the kitchen for simply being swamped with other orders is a daily occurrence. Understandably the kitchen can be stressful, yet after a difficult customer it does make you question Do people do this on purpose? I have heard some tall complaints but the worst has to have been ‘This ice cream is too cold’. Or a weirder note I even had a woman give me her tooth! There are worrying people out there. I am also sometimes a bar maid too – even scarier that waiting. Although my nervous disposition for this is purely acquired by the fact that I the bar attached to my restaurant is manned by only 1 bar person at a time. 1 person to serve, clean, take food orders, change barrels (though I have managed to escape this so far) and pour drinks for restaurant too. Thrown in at the deep end I’ve worked it alone since my ‘induction’ shift.

'The Woodford Massive'

I like my job mainly because of the people I work with. At my 1^st job I was the youngest member of staff and never enjoyed the way it excluded me socially. But now, since so many of us are similar ages, I’m in the social haven of ‘Woodford Bridge Country Club’ or should I say the ‘Woodford massive!’

I have met so many more new friends since working there. A standard shift will end with us either staying up ridiculously late in staff accommodation watching films or all going out for a crazy night somewhere. I’ve had night when we parked up home back at 8am ready for Sunday carvery. I love being spontaneous and it is more exciting that way. There is a problem with that though, mainly for my boss. Work being the centre of gossip and many of us hung-over, perhaps its too social. Nevertheless as social as I want to be, I always get the job done.

Eventually rocking home at god knows what hour I tend to finish the night off with a cup of tea and maybe a brief mental day plan for tomorrow before collapsing asleep.

Vox Pops Assessment - By Charlotte Gay & Caroline Scott

BA CHAIRMAN CALLS FOR SECURITY CHANGE

Miss Whorriskey 'headache'

BA Chairman, Martin Broughton, has launched an appeal for radical change in the UK’s airport security, announcing we should stop ‘kowtowing’ to American security demands. Every terrorist plot seems to lengthen the airport security procedures, with passengers now forced to remove their shoes, open laptop cases and empty their pockets in order to be screened – a process Broughton criticised as being “completely redundant”.  

A survey in the Financial Times shows the security queue is the most frustrating part of a passenger’s air travel.

Social care worker Nevetta Whorriskey, 45, Newbury, is adamant airport security checks are getting too intense. She expressed that the need to queue for hours makes her experience “a bit more of a headache”.

Mr De Angelis: "checks are
good - they are needed"

Nevertheless, waiting an extra half an hour would not be an issue for many. Shop owner Tony De Angelis, 70, of Hazelton Close, Littledown, said he is more concerned for his safety. “I don’t want to worry about someone going to blow me up” he said.

Mr Butcher: " It's keeping
me safe"

Gardener Terry Butcher, 54, Marlborough Road, Westbourne, also completely disagreed with simplifying the security.  “As far as I’m concerned it’s keeping me safe and keeping other passengers safe.”  Mr Butcher returned from Menorca, stated he would rather spend a bit more time queuing on the ground rather than worrying about his safety in the air.

Mr Chadwick: "Safety and security has
got to be paramount"

Retired Bournemouth visitor, Ray Chadwick, 73, Charing, Kent, was shocked by Broughton’s appeal. “Safety and security has got to be paramount” he said.

Mr Chave: "It wouldn't bother me at all
to go through the full body scans"

Taxi driver, John Chave, 45, Belben Road, Wallisdown said “With the 9/11 incident I think that the security could be a bit tighter” He believes the current checks are not enough.

Mr Hitchens: "Body scanner(s) will probably
reveal 90% of what a terrorist has on him"

Sandwich bar owner Paul Hitchman, 54, of Charminster Road thinks “sample checks” are the way forward to reduce queues. Hitchman says “they’ve got to have a system where they can detect most of these terrorists” without putting everyone through the security procedure.

Mrs King: "Get through security quicker"

Mother of two, Sabine King, 41, from Hordle says “we’d all like to see a little bit less (airport security)”.

David Bezwarick, 29, Glen Road, described this as “extreme”, complaining, “we still get the same checks going to Scotland as we do going to the states”. Bezwarick, currently an art gallery sales assistant, also said the security measures “don’t make a lot of sense”, due to only being allowed to take 1 lighter on board, for example.

Mr Bezwarick:; "Extreme"

Miss Wilson: "Ample"

Hairdresser Pippa Wilson, 26, Richmond Park Road, Charminster, feels that the security measures are ‘ample’ but a necessity. “It’s really important for our country” she says.

Miss Luard: "Bit OTT?"

Performer Jenny Luard, 24, Magdalene Road, Durham, thinks the intensity of the checks are a wise move, although she admits feeling uncomfortable when having to go through so many. “From past experience it can be a bit OTT, but I guess it’s for a good cause.”