Thursday 26 January 2023
I’m sitting in my favourite chair in our flat in Lewisham, looking out across a sliver of urban London life. A train has just rattled past, the main road below is rush-hour busy and I can see tens of flats and houses and a petrol station. It’s a familiar sight, we’ve lived here for seven years.
Yesterday was a Scotland to London travel day and I am exhausted this morning. We set off at 09:30 in fog and drizzle and did an unusually long chunk without stopping. We arrived at Blyth Services on the A1 in Nottinghamshire at 12:40. We were ready to get going again, shortly after having had a wander, eaten and had some coffee, by about 13:10. We got in the car; it was apparent that no lights had come on. None. No sign of life. Nothing. The car had run well all morning, no warning lights, nothing out of the ordinary. Chris rang The AA while I Googled the car’s symptoms. We knew it couldn’t be a battery issue as the battery is fine (we occasionally check battery levels through one of the settings) and no early warnings, such as the electrics being a bit slow, the clock being a bit slow, delay starting, etc. My Google searches concluded it was either a battery or alternator. We didn’t think either. Another common issue appeared to be loose or corroded cables. Chris was still on hold. I got him to open the bonnet. I was convinced that, even though one of us had been by the car the entire time, someone had managed to steal the car battery. I put on some ‘dealing with mucky car things’ gloves and looked important standing over the bonnet. The battery was there. I patted a few areas, checked the oil and looked around in case a mechanic happened to be in the service station car park, the kind who would bound over and exclaim how much they loved solving car problems. Unfortunately, that mechanic did not materialise, Chris still hadn’t got through to The AA and my gloves and self-importance didn’t magically make me an expert mechanic.
The AA app didn’t work, apparently because of the worldwide issue with Microsoft. Chris was still ringing. We felt very fortunate to be in the car park of a service station, and one that is not alongside a main road. As we often do at Blyth Services (a favoured northbound service station stop), we joked how ‘nice’ it would be to stay at the Travelodge there, and then on to talk of Alan Partridge. Be careful what you wish for and all that.
Anyway, Chris was still on the phone. My further Googling again suggested a loose connection. Chris was thinking we had over-immobilised the car with our two keys and it had shut down. We then remembered that chatter on a Scottish Borders Facebook group was about rodents eating cables in cars. Chris was still on the phone. Shortly before 14:00, The AA call was finally picked up. I mean, we could have been by the side of a road in a dangerous situation; shockingly bad to have to wait almost fifty minutes to register a breakdown. The responder was efficient and told us that someone would be with us by 14:30, faster than the time to actually get through to them on the phone.
By 14:44 we were on our way, no need to stay at Blyth Services Travelodge and channel our inner Alan Partridge. The problem was indeed a loose connection to the battery, which the very nice AA man told us was something we couldn’t have fixed ourselves due to requiring specialist tools (he brandished a tool and a box-thing, which I interpreted to be specialist as we certainly didn’t have anything like that in our possession). It was merely a case of checking the voltage and tightening some connections. Hurrah.
We stopped in Lewisham for diesel and got home at 18:15. Considering we drove through Blackwall Tunnel in (fairly early) rush hour and that we got to Lewisham shortly before 18:00, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad a second half to the drive as I’d expected. It had drizzled and/or been foggy for the entire drive down.
So that’s why I’m tired this morning.
We have been away from this flat for almost a month, the longest time we’ve been away and the longest stretch of time we’ve been in the house in Scotland. This is the first time both of us have really noticed differences in going about our everyday business.
The flat is too warm. Without the heating on. We have had windows open. I only once opened a window in the Scottish house, and that was because the kitchen was smoky and smelly from roast duck one evening. We had consequently huffed and puffed pillowy clouds of breath.
My morning mug of tea was too hot to drink for considerably longer than is the case in the cold Scottish house.
The kettle is full of limescale and I actually grimaced when I drank some tap water last night. Having your own spring water is to be appreciated even more than we already did. It tastes great and no limescale in the kettle. Chris also noticed that it takes a lot longer to work up a lather when you’re washing yourself here.
In the bedroom in Lewisham, we have a blackout curtain, though it does let light in above and below. However, when I got up before sunrise and walked into the second bedroom/study, I did a double-take about the time. It was a lot lighter than I expected. Sunrise here is 07:47, around us in Scotland, 08:15. Also, there are lights for 24 hours when you look out the window in London, from the lighting in the communal area below, vehicles and trains passing by and the bright lights of a petrol station.
I did a clothes-wash last night and hung it out in the study. I did a wash in Scotland, hung it out on Tuesday morning and it was still cold and wet when we left on Wednesday morning. The wash from last night is half dry and, once turned over, will be dry by tomorrow morning, if not tonight.
In London, I have now noticed that I haven’t shaved my legs or armpits since I was last in London and my eyebrows have reverted to their wild state. I am also wearing clean clothes (I hope I don’t smell in Scotland but I wear jumpers, for example, two, sometimes three days; far too cold at times to be sweating … or so it seems), fewer layers and the kinds of layers I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of wearing in the Scottish house (too thin and too unnecessarily summery-looking).
As with previous stays back home in Lewisham, I am appreciating elements of both. As with pre-Christmas though, if I had to make a decision between one or the other, the London flat would win, if only because of the comfort of being warm.
However, an enormous improvement to the feel of our Scottish kitchen is that I put up a pair of IKEA curtains (ignore the fact they’re waaaay too long) the night before we left for London. The kitchen seemed instantly warmer and cosier with the curtains closed that evening, though I am fairly certain there was no actual increase in temperature.
Today, I am going to walk to my hairdresser, possibly see a friend, probably pop into a shop or two, maybe have a coffee out, I might catch a bus or train; a whole different experience on my doorstep. I also have work to do at my desk. My desk is small, in a fairly dark corner and my work space is shared with Chris and the washing that is drying. The most pointless comment, but it really would be great to mix and match elements of the flat and the house.