The aftermath of Christmas!

The turkey had been eaten, the crackers pulled, the presents exchanged and opened. Now it was time to tackle the M25.

All was good when we left. We flew round the motorway.

From Junction 3 we chugged along slowly, the three lanes regularly swapping the lead. But that was OK. We were moving. And we were only a few miles from the Dartford Tunnel. The signs were saying congestion between Junctions 3 and 1. Then at the beginning of the slip road of Junction 2 we stopped. And we stayed stopped.

After a bit, the cars a few rows behind us started playing musical spaces. And the police car that had been sitting at the motorway side a few miles back, found its way to the hard shoulder and sped by, blue lights flashing.

We moved forward a short way.  There was more car dancing behind as a black 4x4 traversed from the outside lane to the slip road and disappeared down it.

“We could nip off to Bluewater for a bit?” suggested Mum.

“Do you want to?”

“Not really. Do you?”

“I think we’re as well staying put.” And we did. We didn’t move and inch for what seemed like an age.

Somehow we ended up just past the exit without realising how we got there and the cars had bunched up so nobody was going anywhere. I undid my seat belt and pushed my seat back. Mum looked at me.

“I may as well get comfy,” I said. We hadn’t moved in over an hour, despite the electronic road sign just ahead telling us congestion was causing a thirty minute delay.

Four cars behind, a man got out and watered the central barrier. Ahead, another man got out. But he was just stretching his legs.

“There’s a car up there keeps putting his brake lights on,” said Mum. “He keeps making me excited and think he might be about to move.”

I picked up my iPod and scrolled through the playlist. We’d been listening to the new album by Michael Ball and Alfie Boe but it had finished and started again.

“What shall we go for? Let’s have Classical Voices: The Musicals.” And Elaine Paige started to sing Memory.

The car behind switched his engine back on.

“Have you turned yours off?” asked Mum.

“No. I want to stay warm.”

I found my phone and investigated the internet, but it was no help in trying to find out what had happened, not that it would have made any difference to our predicament. Mum tried her trusty travel news phone number.

“There’s been an accident between junctions 2 and 29,” she said.

“That’s a bit vague.”

All of a sudden, the lights on the road sign went out and it changed. “Obstruction”. And above the right hand lane was an arrow indicating that it was closed ahead. We both cheered, then laughed at ourselves for getting excited about it.

But nothing else happened for about twenty minutes. Then we started to move. We got to 10 miles per hour, then 20, then 30, then 40.

“I’m getting dizzy with the speed!” exclaimed Mum.

We passed under the next sign which suggested two lanes ahead were closed. And still we kept moving. Strange. But who cared?

At Junction 1 we stopped. We were at the point where the traffic was joining. We were under the next sign that said three lanes ahead were closed. We’d got too excited too soon.

Then the signs changed again. All lanes were open and we were off. We sped home in no time. What should have been a nightmare journey, had somehow been quite relaxed and funny. And it finished with a cup of tea and a mince pie. Happy New Year!