He Drove Alllllllllll Night....

Well, it was all day really. Poor Philip (the best and most loyal husband who is not at all any of the names that I might have thought about calling him last night when he was stuck in London by the evil Mother Nature) drove home today. From London. He left Gatwick Airport at 6am (when the Avis desk opened, he prompts me to tell you). He drove for four and half hours to reach Scotch Corner - which is not really in the corner of Scotch land. He stopped for half an hour (the most he would allow himself, he had decided that this was going to be a Top Gear style challenge). He arrived in Aberdeen at four o'clock, half an hour of the predicted arrival time on the old TomTom. He stopped for diesel at Bridge of Dee - the other part of his challenge was making it to Aberdeen on one tank of diesel. He had to 49 litres of diesel in the car; meaning that it must have been a 50 litre tank.

I have listened, attentively, to all his wee stories: adventures with the TomTom that nearly run out of battery; how the hotel hadn't even started to serve breakfast so he had to grab a pastry at Costa and took some water and cereal bars for the long road; he had an egg sandwich and a cup of coffee at Scotch Corner for lunch and then the BMI flight that he would have gotten touched down at Aberdeen airport as he arrived to pick up our car.

But he did - he's home, safe and sound. I am a bit worried that his company might have realised that it is marginally cheaper for him to hire a car and drive himself up and down to London? Perhaps he's just set himself an exhausting precedent?