The last time Blog Fodder hitched a ride he looked like this.
He now has less hair, and, one would have thought, more sense.
He’s just hitched 6 lifts to get from Norwich to the East Midlands. And who was his companion on this epic journey through the flatlands?
An old mate from his travelling days?
His trusty, tatty, much-loved backpack?
His son and mine.
Ben. Who’s 9 years old.
So today, both our children have experienced a “first”.
Hannah cantered for the first time.
And Ben stuck his thumb out in the middle of nowhere, with his Dad, because Norwich is too deep in the back end of nowhere to provide a one-way car hire service after lunchtime on a Saturday.
I should know.
I spent 2 hours on the phone trying to arrange one.
I did manage to speak to a few people in the call centres of most of the major hire care firms, but not one of them could arrange a car to be at Norwich airport after midday on a Saturday.
So they hitched.
And I couldn’t even monitor their journey through regular phone calls, as Blog Fodder’s technical skills do not extend to making a Jersey mobile work in England.
“I did everything they told me to, but it just wouldn’t work,” he explained, at 10.30pm when he eventually called to say they were safe.
“Is Ben OK?” I enquired, sort of expecting the answer I got.
“Yes, he loved it. He had his thumb out. We met some great people, it restored my faith in human nature. One bloke offered to come and take us all the way if we were stuck for more than an hour.”
I suppose that was a better option than calling Social Services.
So when they return, triumphant after their male-bonding weekend, Hannah and I will have to listen to tales of the road without snorting with derision.
At least we got to see Dr Who.