Travelling by car for the Easter weekend to visit the in-laws in Wolverhampton, in the short space from Newcastle to Carlisle i count 23 dead pheasants at the roadside, poor little birdy souls. Caravans, please get off the road, bikers in leather gear trying to look hard. The car in front sports a Churchill nodding dog, a biker nods his helmet in the same rhythm. An annoying song on the radio, Jessica, Tabitha,.....Sue Annabelle too, or something, change channels. A walker wearing a wooly hat carrying a haversack, "I love to go a wandering, along the mountain slope..." how my mind wanders when bored.
Speed camera sign, and then further along the road, a burnt out camera covered with black liner and gaffa tape. Another pheasant, looking beautiful, dithering on the path, number 24? Electric pylons looking like dutch maids carrying buckets, or Chinese pagodas. There is an almighty stink, I accuse D of farting, it turns out its a cow field.
We watch the bumper to bumper lines of traffic, in the opposite lanes, probably heading for the lake district, and are grateful that we sail through on our side. We imagine the amount of children asking "Are we nearly there yet."
A Scottish Saltire flag is flying in a field, there are sheep with dyed orange and green wool. A Thornton`s van goes past, time for a chocolate stop. A dead fox and a dead crow and various little beige creatures pass, but don`t put me off chocolate.
Hello hello, at a place called Vertigo is playing on the radio as we pull in.
Back on the road, cross hatching trees, D is speeding up, listening to his Tom Tom..."After 800 yards keep right" An animal truck passes with little black noses and furry ears poking through the slats, there is a sign advertising Blackpool Pleasure Beach..... the poor little black noses won`t be going anywhere near as pleasant, wish that I didn`t like the taste of lamb. There is a funny smell, I don`t think it`s the cows this time, but daren`t make any more accusations.