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.