Writing for Fun
May 2017
M25 - Anne Wilson
A few years ago (and not on April Fool's Day!) I read in a national newspaper that, in addition to providing tours around the beauty spots of the British Isles, a coach company proposed to offer its patrons the option of undertaking a trip embracing the highlights of the M25.
I'm not sure whether the proposal ever came to fruition but here, in the spirit of fun, is my 'take' on a possible scenario.
Trembling with anticipation, she tore open the envelope and lifted up the tickets inside. They bore the words 'Five Day Luxury Tour of the M25'.
'You shouldn't have done,' she said, her eyes brimming with grateful tears.
'It's not every day you celebrate your silver wedding,' he replied magnanimously. 'I know it's something we always said we'd do, but I never thought I'd be able to afford it.'
'I can't wait to tell everybody,' she said eagerly.
'Now don't show off,' he cautioned. 'This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I don't want people thinking we're going to be doing this every year.'
She hugged the tickets to her bosom.
'I know that,' she said. 'It's just that I'm so thrilled. I'll have to buy some new dresses, of course.' She prodded his expanding waistline playfully. 'And you're going to need a new evening jacket.'
'I think that's quite enough excitement for now,' he cautioned. 'Just try and contain yourself for the time being.'
The big day dawned and, stumbling under the weight of the luggage, they positioned themselves at the coach stop, noting with pride the way in which others, obviously awaiting transport for more mundane destinations, glanced surreptitiously at the labels adorning theirs.
'Is this the first time you've been there?' one lady asked.
'I went there once on business just after it opened' he replied. 'I always wanted to go back and this is a special anniversary present for my wife.'
'You're a lucky lady,' the enquirer said, squeezing the wife's arm in a combination of envy and conspiratorial fondness. 'I wish I had a husband like yours.'
The coach exceeded her wildest expectations. Not only did a spotless toilet lie at the bottom of a winding staircase, evoking memories of the Titanic minus the water and the iceberg, but all manner of facilities had been made available, including hot drinks for purchase from the driver and a pull-out tray from the seat in front on which to rest them.
No expense had been spared with the entertainment and soon a 'comfort break' was announced as a morning optional extra after they had been on the road for two hours. Some people preferred just to 'chill out' in their seats, unwrapping sandwiches and unscrewing their thermos flasks, whilst others availed themselves of the opportunity of a bracing walk outside in the pouring rain, around the toilets. The passengers were reassured that it did not matter. This was their break and the choice was theirs.
'I shall be pointing out various items of historical interest throughout the holiday,' the driver's voice boomed through the microphone as the wife gazed in wonderment out of the window, drinking in the beauty of the lorries as they flashed past and inhaling the air in order to capture the aroma of their fumes.
The holiday flew by in a frenzy of heady excitement. Each day brought with it fresh views of concrete buildings, all imbued with their own individual splendour. These were surpassed by the scenery, though, as Junction after Junction loomed before them. She was hard put to name her favourite. Was it Junction 2 to Dartford? Junction 9 to Leatherhead? Or possibly Junction 21 to Watford? On reflection she decided that it had to be the last-named because this, in turn, lead the more adventurous traveller onto the M1, which would then bring with it further delights to savour.
Each night the couple unpacked their luggage at venues such as The Travel Lodge and Premier Inn, selecting whether they should arrive for the first or second sitting at venues they could only have imagined in their wildest dreams: Costa Coffee, Burger King and KFC being three of the most alluring.
She had keyed herself up to what for her was to be the highlight of the trip, which was now nearing its end. A sign ahead bore the words 'South Mimms'. Her heart raced. She would soon be arriving at the destination she had pictured so many times in her mind. The dream would soon become a tangible reality. She opened up her guidebook. Opened in 1987 it was the first venue to provide refreshments on the M25 and therefore a monument of deep significance.
A building loomed in the distance.
'We're about to arrive at a unique example of motorway architecture,' the driver informed them. 'It's the only one of its kind boasting secured fencing in the car park.'
Gasps of admiration emanated from the passengers as they craned their necks forward in anticipation.
The coach drew up and excited individuals tumbled out in haste, almost falling over each other in their excitement, all with cameras poised so that they capture this moment and render it to posterity.
'A few moments for some pictures,' the driver informed them. 'But please be back inside the coach in fifteen minutes time.'
It was all too brief but this highlight would live with her forever. She clasped her husband's hand in gratitude and they gazed into each other's eyes. He resolved never to starve her of culture and excitement again for the remainder of their marriage. Perhaps a trip on the M6 for their Ruby?