I've had a very good start to my holiday. The weather was glorious as I left Sussex - sunshine and blue skies, and it would have been warm were it not for the breeze. It stayed fine all the way here, although that clear blue daytime sky has led to a chilly evening. But I'm snug enough.
The traffic was, as expected, pretty dense close to London, but otherwise not a problem. Nor was there a shortage of places to stop at - I like to take a break every couple of hours. I don't mind using the service areas on the motorways, although not all make it easy to park up if you have a caravan in tow. This time I tried out Peterborough Services on the A1(M). It was a mistake: caravans and motorhomes had to park where the haulage lorries went. And the parking spaces there were so arranged that you had to reverse into them.
A car with a caravan hitched onto it is in effect a long articulated vehicle. And manoeuvring any vehicle with a hinge in the middle is no easy proposition, especially when having to go backwards into a narrow slot between gigantic haulage lorries! It doesn't help that haulage drivers are experts at what they do, and I am not. I've never been good at driving backwards, and it's even more of a nightmare with a caravan. What those professional drivers do so effortlessly is a serious challenge for me! I felt under pressure to back into my space quickly and competently, but kept misjudging it and having to straighten up and try again. And lorries were coming and going all the time: I was getting in their way. I hoped they understood that I wasn't parking there by choice - it was how the service area management wanted things to be.
Frankly I needed help - and I got it. A young woman gave me reversing directions. I was only too happy to do as she said. She was the driver of a massive green Scania lorry next to me. She assisted me with patience and a smile, and once I was properly into my space I got out and thanked her. Her lorry is left of my car and caravan in the next shot, and to the right in the following one.
The size of these haulage vehicles! Close up, they are quite intimidating. It's difficult to imagine what it must be like to drive such things, and all haulage drivers have my deep admiration, not least the young lady who gave me help and stopped me making a complete fool of myself. Not that anybody in that parking area showed any signs of displeasure or mockery at my amatuerish attempts to park successfully. I suppose that all of them were inept once, and all must occasionally get stuck.
I wondered about my saviour. She was slim and dark, and might have been any age between twenty-five and forty. She was chirpy and friendly, and had a Merseyside accent. I'm guessing that she got into haulage because her father did it, or might even own a haulage firm and could give her a flying start. Was it a world full of rednecks who had no time for girl drivers? Probably not. Driving has become markedly more professional, and is not nowadays an unusual career for a woman - for instance, an awful lot of buses are driven by women - and I don't imagine that great physical strength is needed any more, just good fitness. It might take an unusual woman to tolerate (and even like) all the hours spent on the road, but I'm guessing that haulage drivers are a close-knit bunch with a good attitude who look after each other, regardless of sex or background, and if there is any potential difficulty or danger in haulage driving, it doesn't normally come from fellow-drivers.
Well, she showed a very good attitude towards me. In fact she showed me sisterhood when I badly needed it. After my break, and before driving off, I made a point of walking round to the front of her cab, where she could see me, and gave her a big heartfelt thumbs-up of gratitude and appreciation.
