What a lovely weekend away.
It started well when I asked George what time she wanted to leave on Friday morning – “didn’t I tell you? I have to work on Friday morning…” Remember, kids, communication is the lifeblood of any relationship!
So Friday morning, Neil and I went to pick up the hire car that George and I would be travelling up to Edinburgh in – a brand new Vauxhall Corsa, from the strangest car dealership in the whole of Chesterfield. We almost got a discount because one of the old men appeared to be hitting on Neil (giving him these strange, crooked smiles every minute), but he bottled it.
When George eventually finished work we started on our five hour journey up into Scotland, stopping at the ‘border’ for requisite cheesy photos and being scared when we saw snow, far off in the distance. Our hotel was just next to the Forth Bridge, and as luck would have it, trying to get to the hotel without going over the bridge (and paying the toll!) was a little more difficult than we appreciated. We eventually made it though.
First impressions of the hotel weren’t that good – think Alan Partridge and his experiences in a small-town Travelodge, and you will get the idea. There appeared to be some ‘redecoration’ going on, and of course, the place was full of Welsh people (no bad thing, I know, Cindy!) who were up for the rugby. But, after a long drive, some rancid dinner and a long listen to the singing Welsh rugby fans, all I cared about was a large comfy bed…