Lockdown is definitely over, as anybody could see who travelled on the M25 yesterday. We were going along okay until we got to Junction 5, about halfway through our journey to Portsmouth, and then we slowly we ground to a halt.
After half an hour of sitting there with our engine off, I got out of the car to find out what was going on. An air ambulance flew overhead, and so we assumed there must have been a bad accident somewhere up ahead.
As I stood outside to stretch my legs, some other people decided to follow suit. There we were, perfect strangers, chatting away like we’d known each other for years. We put the world to rights in that hour and ten minutes that we were stuck on the motorway.
Suddenly an engine started up in the distance, followed by a chorus of cars following suit. The line ahead started to move. We said a brief goodbye to people we hadn’t known before or will ever know again. We hadn’t even exchanged names, but for 70 minutes of our lives we were all in the same boat (or car, so to speak!) and had shared the same frustrating experience of being stuck on the motorway with no way out.
It’s not good to be stuck on the M25. It’s a slightly claustrophobic experience, as you’re jammed in there solidly with nowhere to go and no chance of escape. However, the strangers we met in that brief moment made the ordeal a little bit easier to bear.
It’s a lovely day on the Isle of Wight. I’m in my happy place and all is right with the world, all except for Covid-19, which is definitely wrong, but there’s not much I can do about that. Sam’s jet-washing the van so I’m catching up on emails and social media, but we’re off cycling this afternoon in the sunshine. On Monday he’ll go back home to work for a few days and then will collect the grandchildren on Friday and bring them back here for a week.
I hope all the people on the M25 arrived safely at their destinations. ‘Bye for now. x