Distressingly, we wake to find that we are still in a car, in a field, in the cold, surrounded by mist, using towels as blankets, and with only some 3-day-old bread and a slightly sad looking carrot for breakfast. On the plus side, we’re already in the car. And there’s a text from my Aunt Josie so say the Lindauer is already chilling in the fridge. To Nelson!
Oh, wait, Mum can’t find her keys. She rummages around on the floor under her seat looking for them. “Oh, I’ve found your passport,” she says. “OHMYGODREALLY?” I squeal. “No, not really.” Mum finds her little joke inordinately funny.