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On holiday - Part 4
Nov. 20th, 2007 07:26 pmToday, I got up (not through choice) at about 6am in worry about the coming car journey. Scavenging the house for food again, I found some fat-free milk and half a decaying sandwich from yesterday. Then, at about half past nine, we set off - six people in the car, Whitney and I relegated to the back seat as something approaching cargo because nobody else can fit there, and four hundred miles ahead of us.
I don't think that I've ever had a car journey that lasted more than about two hours since my family used to drive all the way down Britain to catch the ferry over to Germany, but strangely, it didn't really feel that long. Californian roads have a strange speed limit that is something like the average between the actual posted speed limit and whatever everyone is actually doing, unless an obvious unmarked police car is nearby in which case everyone goes as slow as possible. So, at a more or less constant 80 miles an hour, the distance flew past. This journey is something that Whitney's family do quite regularly, but I wouldn't care to experience it again if I can possibly help it.
This is the route.
Now we're finally at Whitney's parents' house, where they're constantly stressed about their increasingly stupid builders - they're having their bedroom rearranged, and this involves moving a couple of other walls around. Whitney's cupboard has moved across the room and everything is coated in a thick layer of dust that we've just about got through. We'll have about two days with nothing incredibly hectic on the horizon, then a trip to get a Christmas tree, which the brothers are always incredibly picky about (it absolutely must be an inch above arm's length to be the right height for the ceiling) and involves a lot of struggling and falling over. This would be a strong contender for the most stressful holiday ever if my own family hadn't insisted on going down to St Andrews most years when I was in primary school and packing six people into a caravan.
I don't think that I've ever had a car journey that lasted more than about two hours since my family used to drive all the way down Britain to catch the ferry over to Germany, but strangely, it didn't really feel that long. Californian roads have a strange speed limit that is something like the average between the actual posted speed limit and whatever everyone is actually doing, unless an obvious unmarked police car is nearby in which case everyone goes as slow as possible. So, at a more or less constant 80 miles an hour, the distance flew past. This journey is something that Whitney's family do quite regularly, but I wouldn't care to experience it again if I can possibly help it.
This is the route.
Now we're finally at Whitney's parents' house, where they're constantly stressed about their increasingly stupid builders - they're having their bedroom rearranged, and this involves moving a couple of other walls around. Whitney's cupboard has moved across the room and everything is coated in a thick layer of dust that we've just about got through. We'll have about two days with nothing incredibly hectic on the horizon, then a trip to get a Christmas tree, which the brothers are always incredibly picky about (it absolutely must be an inch above arm's length to be the right height for the ceiling) and involves a lot of struggling and falling over. This would be a strong contender for the most stressful holiday ever if my own family hadn't insisted on going down to St Andrews most years when I was in primary school and packing six people into a caravan.
