The Gospel According to Saint Christopher

The patron Saint of travellers, he say "NO". He said it loud. He said it proud. "Thou shalt not get to your friend's baby's christening... instead thou will sit on the M25 for six hours, only to return home empty-hearted/full bladdered and starving hungry...". He pointed his big staff at us (ooooh errr...), and thus it was so.

Saturday started so well. I picked up Emma, we both looked good in our posh 'christening' outfits (not christening gowns before you ask - I couldn't get my old one on. heh), and we hit the road - intending to arrive in Croydon in plenty of time for Tesla's little boy's christening.

In fact, we had factored in SO much time that we would get a chance to eat lunch, and even sneak a look around the shops, before I met little Namar (and indeed his Daddy, Nile) for the first time. I have not seen Tesla herself for almost four years, since she lives in The Netherlands. I was SO looking forward to this 'gospel' stylee christening (Tesla's Dad is the bishop at the church). It was going to be great!

As it turns out... we hit traffic on the M25 at 12.... we sat and sat and sat, and five hours later we managed to get off at the next junction (a mere 4 miles away). The highlight of this marathon chatting session was only managing 'half a wee', having climbed down a grass bank in heels, and responding to Emma's call of "get yer knicker's up, the traffic is moving!". This caused me to dash up the slope, jump behind the wheel (Dukes of Hazzard style), only to drive 30ft, before we ground to a halt and stayed there another two hours. Never has a handbag looked so tempting as a possible toilet!

After 45 minutes, we managed to get around the roundabout at the top of the slip road we got to, and drove home (arriving back in the evening!). Since the M25 provides one of just two river crossings in the sensible regions of London (i.e. without having to drive through Oxford circus, or taking the Woolwich Ferry - which doesn't really count as a viable means of crossing the river), the whole world had decided to take the A13 route to the Blackwall tunnel. For the first time in a long time, I just had to admit defeat and do the sensible thing and turn round!!!!

There are a couple of things that put our plight into perspective though... a) the reason for the closure was the death of an 11 year old boy, who had fallen off the back of his Dad's motorbike, and sadly died. Much carnage was caused by the cars trying to avoid this child in the road. That is reason enough not to complain TOO much I guess, b) was the poor be-suited guy close to us, who appeared to have a flat battery and had several bridesmaid dresses in the back of his car, and what looked to be all the musical instruments and disco decks for a wedding... his distressed face and the fifty or so fags he smoked at once told the whole story!

Other than that... great weekend! ;-) Ahem...

Actually - I *did* finish off Saturday nicely. Emma and I felt we deserved a delicious meal at Wagamama after our journey from hell (chicken Gyoza bought the smile back to my face, like only Gyoza can!). On Sunday, I cooked a delicious (even though I say so myself) for Mark's parents, and we had a nice afternoon and evening just chilling in the garden with a few beers, and trying to plan our new kitchen extension. In fact, it seems that other than Saturday, I spent the whole weekend eating, as have just remembered that I also went out Friday night for a meal with Mark. We went to Bruno's Brasserie.... I have said it before, and will say it again - why hadn't I been to that place sooner?!! Dinner there is SUPERB!

Anyway... speak soon, love
Hayls
xxxxxx