My hungover day started sweetly with an email from Carla, the Dutch girl I had a holiday romance with in 1981 -
I wrote about her in February. I don't think she'd read that blog, but the internet is an amazing thing and she had managed to track me down to say hello, over a quarter of a century after we'd last communicated. She is now married and has four children, which puts my ridiculous life into some kind of perspective, but it warmed my heart a little to hear from her after all this time. We had only known each other very briefly, but clearly a little nostalgic fondness remains for us both. It was bitter sweet of course, because it's hard to believe that so much time has flown by, but what a wonderful modern world where we can greet each other across the decades.
But otherwise my hangover laid me low for most of the day, before I headed off at 6.30 for a gig in Hitchin. I had left myself plenty of time to get there and wasn't needed until 8.30 and everything was progressing well until I got to the Hatfield tunnel where traffic ground to a halt. It became clear that there had been an accident just about fifty metres ahead of me. Ambulances and police cars came down the middle of the two lanes - there was no hard shoulder at this point due to roadworks. I was sat there for about fifty minutes, desperately needing a wee and texting the promoter to let him know how likely it was that I would be there on time. Luckily he was able to rearrange the running order so I would close the show, so I had plenty of time. I had shut off my engine to conserve fuel, but had the radio and my rear window heater on and my sat nav plugged in. At about 8.30 the traffic started moving and I turned my key... but nothing. All electrical power seemed to have gone and I was going nowhere. I guessed it was a flat battery, but evenso I would need help to get going.
I rang the RAC, but a policeman came out of the tunnel to tell me that there was free recovery on this part of the road and I should wait for that. To make things safer (though I am not quite sure how) we then had to push my useless car into the tunnel, just behind where the crash had taken place and wait there. I then had to sit beside my car as the more fortunate drivers passed me and I sat texting and twittering and breathing in fumes. It seemed pretty unlikely I'd get to the gig now, but you never knew.
Another highway officer came up the tunnel about twenty minutes later to tell me that I shouldn't be waiting in the tunnel because the fumes would get to me, so we walked out into the fresh air and I finally had an opportunity to have that wee. The officer (Andy I believe) said he thought I might be able to get to the gig in time, though I might need a lift.
Finally, with the world of Twitter following my every move and TV's Emma Kennedy mocking me in 140 characters at a time, the truck turned up and I got to sit up front as my car was loaded on.
And the recovery man was most helpful, took me to a little caravan park where he got some jump leads and got my car going. I got to the gig at 10.15 and was on stage by half past. It was quite a feat.
I have, I believe, never yet missed a gig (though have been late for a few) so it was a relief and an amazing achievement to get here in time to do my rubbish. And loads of excitement. It's turning into quite an eventful week. Should be a lot to discuss in AIOTM at least.
