There is a belief in certain quarters of a condition (for want of a better word) called Purgatory-a sort of post mortem ante room to Heaven (if you have been quite good) or to Hell (if you have lived a bit of a naughty life) You can be in Purgatory whilst still alive. As today on the A1, in an antique French registered unairconditioned car, steering wheel in the distaff position, with two small pugnacious., bickering, children- siblings apparently lacking filial affection A Ms Cain and a Mr Abel ( I am now stretching biblical analogies somewhat), in a high temperature (not quite as hot as Hell, obviously) and 356 miles to endure. En route one endures a number of little Purgatories-sort of ante rooms to ante rooms-called on earth 'Services' with weird neo biblical names like MOTO where you are ripped off for inedible food, grumpy service and child friendly means 'Shut that brat up'

Anyhow we have arrived safe and relatively sound in peaceful Hutton-so we now know what kind of purgatory we have survived. Ante room to Heaven, of course

As the senior daughter remarks 'You have had a good day haven't you'

Irascible old gentleman concurs.


(You will have gathered that the shot above of loving siblings seemed of little relevance to our purgatorial progress north)  ¶ 7:56 PM