It was an early morning. That's all I'm going to say. We had arranged to meet at the local petrol station at 8.30, but I, being the idiot that I am, went to leave, then remembered that I hadn't got the directions from the internet. Fool.
Ten minutes later, I ran to the petrol station. Ok, ok, I walked. It was, after all, six hours earlier than I usually get up! I walk into the petrol and in front of me is a gleaming British Racing Green Mini Cooper Spi, of '92 origins.
It was quickly agreed that it was far too early to be up on a Sunday, and the two dodgy Dubliners set off. My tiredness soon passed as we got going. Due to a head-unit that wouldn't work for love nor banging, we had been inventive. Who needs 6x9's, who needs subs? Not us! Out came the mini-disc portable and the PC speakers, which as you can imagine, sounded brilliant. Not. This set back aside, the weather was glorious, we had a full tank of petrol, half a brain between us and 2 dodgy maps - obviously the best concoction for a long drive ooop North.