The Long and Whinging Road

This weekend we took our first trip away from the barn.  To be honest, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it as the children spend every moment they are in the car asking “are we there yet?” – often starting before we’ve even left the village.  The thought of two hours of this did not please me.  As it turned out, on the outward journey my estimate was totally overly optimistic.  It was a four hour journey, due to road closures and elaborate diversionary routes which I can only assume were drawn up by a drunkard who’d never before seen a map.  As you can imagine, I was in seventh heaven – if seventh heaven is made up of imps, alternating between exclamations of “Are we NEARLY there??”, “This journey is BOOORING”, and singing “Ayyyy me lads, you should of seen them gannin” over, and over, and over…and over.  And over.

However, with a supply of plums and apples we’d scrumped the day before and a few fruit pastilles hastily snaffled whilst the kids cried “What you eating?? What YOU eating???  What you EATTIINNNGGG???”, we survived the journey.

A jolly weekend was had which included a trip to the National Railway Museum


unsurprisingly the kids favourite part of which was the Thomas the Tank extortionate ride on thing.


Today saw our return journey.  Fortunately this did only take only two hours, any longer and I may have resorted to filicide.  As soon as we set off the “Are we nearly home?” questions started, followed by

“Are we on the A66 yet?” (the boy child has an obsession with road names and constantly throws them into his questions – girl child has now started to pick up this delightful habit).

“No, we’ll tell you when we are”

A minute passes

“Are we on it now?”

“No, we’ll tell you when we are”

A minute

“Are we on it now?”

And so on, and on until your head feels like it will explode.

And then the singing starts.  The kids have a ‘delightful’ habit of reciting songs from programmes they watch, but with nonsense words, today’s was “I’m on my way to hodge podge pea, I will take my daddy with me” – we have no idea what this song is supposed to be (the boy claims it is from Thomas the Tank Engine) but daddy is delighted as he’s getting a name check.  I am never taken to hodge podge pea.

Then the kicking of my seat starts, at first a relatively gentle thump in the back every minute or so.

“Can you stop that please darling, it’s quite uncomfortable for mummy”

The kicking gets a bit harder and more frequent.

“I SAID, can you stop, it’s quite uncomfortable”

Harder still and almost constant.

“STOP IT!!!”

One big kick and then the screeching starts (probably meant as a parody of my good self).

My head is pounding and motion sickness has well and truly set in, so I get grumpier and grumpier.  We’re not even back in Cumbria yet, daddy beams over at me – “I bet you wish we’d brought the kids CD now?”  He is lucky he is driving and so I cannot physically assault him to show him just how very pleased I am with him for pointing this out.

Finally the Cumbrian hills are spotted

I sink into a huffy silence which no one notices / pays attention to.  The girl child falls asleep, but if she sleeps too long she won’t sleep at bedtime and so daddy takes her welly off and she wakes up crying for the last 20 minutes of the journey, and staring at me accusingly (of course the daddy angel could not have committed such a foul act).

At long last we reach home, and I vow never to leave Cumbria again….until next weekend.  When we get to do it all again.



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