I have just returned from a two-day visit to Kent. The reason for the trip was the funeral of my cousin Pat Spall (a McEvoy on her mother's side). Pat was one of the kindest and most sensible of my relatives. For the last twenty years or so she lived in Hadlow, a village a few miles from Tonbridge where she worked until a few months ago in the tourist information centre in Tonbridge Castle. The funeral was held at Tunbridge Wells Crematorium, with a reception at the Hadlow Manor Hotel. Her family from Canada were there, so I saw some younger relatives I had not met before. The most recent photo I have of Pat was taken at my birthday party on the Ipswich waterfront four and a half years ago. Pat is in the front row on the left.
I stayed at the Premier Inn on the south side of Tonbridge for the two days I was in Kent and to my surprise I managed the drive from Ipswich without a hitch, despite having to cross from Essex to Kent via the dreaded Dartford Crossing. There were no delays and I did not get lost. If only the return trip today had been so smooth...
There were severe delays on the Dartford Crossing Driving north, and the busy traffic slowed to a standstill. As happens sometimes when traffic goes fast and then slows, my car stalled. And then it wouldn't start again. Nothing. I was in the middle lane and the traffic started moving again, and soon was going very fast. Juggernauts wizzed either side of me but my little Hyundai i10 stayed put. Someone stopped behind me and I explained the position. We rang the police and before driving off he told me to get out of the car or I would be killed. The trouble was, I would also be killed if I stepped out of the car. The police told me the motorway patrol had been called and would be along shortly, though shortly was twenty minutes. Eventually they arrived and the traffic behind me was halted. I had brought the M25 to a standstill. The two helpful ladies towed me to the hard shoulder and I was left there to wait for the AA roadside rescue, though I was told they might take an hour. At least they could open the motorway again! In the event two very nice lads arrived after forty minutes and managed to start the car, but suggested I might like them to take me to get a new battery. So they loaded my car onto their pick-up and took me to a Halfords in Dartford.
I was pleasantly surprised at how helpful everyone was. The motorway patrol ladies, the roadside rescue lads and Halfords people were all absolutely charming, though I suspect there were a few chuckles once they left me. There must have been some fuming delayed drivers too, and who can blame them? For those unfamiliar with the Dartford Crossing here's a photo. It's the most important crossing over the Thames east of London. Southbound is by bridge, northbound by tunnel.
Of all the places for my car to conk out (something it has never done before) this was just about the last place on earth anyone would want it to. It could not have happened in any of the sleepy roads in Suffolk, it had to be here! It was the most dangerous and (perhaps worse) the most disruptive and embarrassing spot it could have chosen. I could have kept all this to myself, of course, but blogs are not just about triumphs, they should be about humiliations too.
Still, I did manage to have a lovely cup of tea and some excellent granola cheesecake in a café next to Halfords while they were sorting out my car, so the day was not all doom and gloom.
Still, I did manage to have a lovely cup of tea and some excellent granola cheesecake in a café next to Halfords while they were sorting out my car, so the day was not all doom and gloom.
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