It was at that point – the right hand swerve from the main A road artery, that branching single track, that we realised I had done it again.
It had been going well. The traffic was light, the day was good, we had had our mid-journey picnic and Jamie hadn’t once had to pee in a completely inadequate here, take this, this will do bottle of sorts…
Five minutes previous I had laughingly pointed at the single track that wound up and down the steep moor side to our right. It was a thin ribbon, undulating crazily up and down- disappearing into itself and the moors, seeming to double back – eating its tail, before reappearing dotted with sheep.Thats where we are going, l had said. Secure in my assumption that we most certainly were not going there.
Meg had said don’t act it – you know you cant wait to get onto that road – mostly because she is 20 and 20 year olds have to have a sarcastic response no matter what but also because she knows that what I like is the diametric opposite of that road. And because – if it were that road we had to take, it meant I had chanced upon yet another obscure and utterly isolated last minute holiday cottage rental…and hadn’t I just promised them all that I really had not done that this time – that they really should learn to trust me…(all said adamantly and with a slight emphasising pause between words).
It is obvious now to me that as soon as I had uttered those words the hand of God/fate/whatever power it is that says the over-confident (or arrogantly complacent) will get their comeuppance immediately irredeemably and let it really serve them right – was irritated into action against me.
For yes, it was that road.
(to be continued….)