All at sea now!

The holiday finished about a week ago, though it doesn't seem that way.  I was back inside my own front door by 7.55 pm last Tuesday and, after a little frantic activity, most of what had accompanied me was either put away, looking for a home, waiting for a wash, or at least out of sight ... and mind, until the weekend!

By 8.0 the next morning, I'd been to the office, signed on for work, and collected my invoice for the week I'd worked before the holiday.  Home again then, for a good sort out of the desk, so I could feel somewhere close to organised.  It was as well that I did, for within a few hours work proper had started, with the second job offering something out of the ordinary.  I was asked to collect 'a piece of art' from the local gallery to take it to one of the schools in the town.  'Art' to my unimaginative mind is a picture, and from the professional point of view, preferably rolled and wrapped; at worst in a large and awkward frame.  This was awkward all right - it was a sculptured metal tree, about three feet tall, with spikes sticking out in all directions!  How do you carry something like that?

Compensation came only minutes afterwards, when I was offered a job for delivery the next morning in Belfast.  This was heavy, and - as was made clear to me when I collected it - quite expensive, but at least it was regular in shape, quite stable on its base, and didn't fight back when I strapped it securely in position in the van!  As usual, the only problem with a trip to Belfast is sleep.

After a normal day, to arrive at the ferry port at midnight is tiring in the first place.  Then when you get on the ferry, a 2.0 am breakfast is (just about) acceptable, but experience has told me it doesn't help you to overcome the difficulties of sharing a cabin with a noisily snoring trucker.  We have to share ... I asked!  The only alternative is to pay £50 for a solo cabin for yourself, which seems a trifle excessive when the shared berth is included in the ticket price.  So I snooze if I can in the truckers' lounge.

I prefer to go via Dublin, because you do at least get the break of the ferry crossing to split up the long drive.  It means that I can drive in daylight up the Irish M1, fill up with cheaper diesel (141.9 cents a litre instead of 139.9 pence - if you do the maths you'll find it saves about 5%), and be comparatively fresh appearing in Belfast at 8.30 am.  The alternative is to drive all the way up to Stranraer, make the shorter crossing and arrive in the wee small hours, with nothing to do until businesses open ... no thanks!

I don't really mind coming home via Stranraer, because the time is my own, and allowing for the time I'd take to get back to Dublin, my eventual return home would differ but little.  The killer is that awful road from Stranraer to the motorway - 100 miles of single carriageway, interrupted presently by roadworks, as well as the almost inevitable stop for a sleep in the back of the van.  And by the time I get home late on the day of delivery, it's almost certain that I shall have stopped again - often I find at Wetherby, and maybe even further on as well.  At least I pride myself - so far! - on not having fallen asleep at the wheel.  But if I had, I might well not be writing this!

Friday was a bit more relaxing - nothing more demanding than Hastings ... and Friday's M25 queues!