We’re driving to the south coast. The GPS says 2 1/2 hours to Brighton. It’s Sunday so this should be fine.
But… At 2 1/2 hours we’re sitting in a motorway service station having driven through endless roadworks and a multitude of road signs: “Variable Speed Limits”, “Average Speed Check”, “Mobile Safety Cameras in Operation”, and cameras are recording our every move, or lack thereof. In this M25 service station parking lot: “Automatic Number Plate Recognition”.
We arrive in Brighton 134 miles and 4 1/2 hours later. And it’s raining. But that’s fine. There’s something satisfyingly depressing about sitting in the seafront of a British seaside resort on a grey, wet and windy day. 😊