237 DEAR DIARY, DAY ONE…

Dear Diary,

We have arrived in Namur, although it was far from straightforward. Carl got a puncture as we were about to leave our street. Do you know how hard it is to get a tyre fixed at 7 AM  on a Wednesday in Liverpool? Thankfully, he managed it.

The M6 was rammed at the Winwick Interchange, and by the time we joined the M25, the weather was biblical. Horizontal rain, coming down in sheets as thick as lead, accompanied by thunder and lightning. Probably not what Rachel had hoped for as she took over driving duties after our breakfast break.

Still, we made it to Le Shuttle in good time, only for all the trains to be delayed. Grrr… This gave Border Security plenty of time to choose our car for random drug swabbing, though. Eventually, we boarded the train and arrived in France, where I had my first experience driving on the continent.

My first impressions are that the Dutch drive like they have stolen their car, the French are slick, and the Belgians think your rear number plate is a place to park at 120kph.

It didn’t take long for our best-laid plans to unravel, as R&R raced along the French motorway desperately trying to catch the two Abarths, unaware that we were miles behind. They did a loop around Brussels as we came off the A16 and headed east.

After a coffee break and some swearing at the sat nav, we made it to Namur and to our first stopover of the trip. The hotel is beautiful and the staff lovely, even letting us takeaway at 11pm to the bar - not that they had much choice after we went on ‘Le Uber Eats’ and ordered a pizzas without actually knowing what topping we were getting.

There was a bit of a language barrier with the barman so Lisa’s quest for a decent Gin & Lemonade goes on, JD and coke is a poor substitute.

After driving for 8 hours on just three and a bit hours sleep, we couldn’t wait to get to bed, ignoring the emergency bottle of emotional support champagne the hotel has in each room - I’m not joking by the way.

500 miles done, 1,700 to go!

Yours,

Robbie