A Thin Line...

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If anyone's still in doubt that our grip on the world is slight at the very least, and that our tenure as it's appointed 'guardians' could so easily be terminated at a moment's notice, I commend to you this afternoon's family shenanigans. We were due to meet up at a certain junction on the M56 motorway in order that we take a family member back home to Wales for a few days break, while the others, living in Lancashire, had a short holiday in Scotland.

All well and good, on a day when all things are equal and the travel-gods are looking down favourably on one's endeavours; however, as always the unpredictable ogre of the M6 appeared from his lair and scuppered the whole deal. We got a text to say that our familial counterparts had run into a traffic jam shortly after joining the motorway. We had yet to start our journey to meet them, so asked for updates, as and when the situation changed.

About forty-five minutes in, we heard news that the other party were still stuck at more or less the same point they were at when we last spoke: an hour into their journey, they had travelled less than eight miles; the result of tailbacks caused by a truck-fire a few miles on. By this time, we had made a diversion to do some stuff that was intended for the return journey, and waited for another call.

When it came, they were still sat in the car in the same place as an hour before, at which point we advised bailing out as soon they could, and that we would head home, too. In total, they travelled eight miles in four hours, then had to take a three-hour detour - albeit including a well-earned pub-meal, to circumnavigate the snafu and return home.

Which made me reflect: today was warm, but not too hot: if this had happened last week, that traffic-jam in thirty-five-degree-plus heat could easily have proven fatal for the ninety-four-old family member that was at the centre of this transport enterprise, as well as many others trapped under those circumstances. It makes you think...

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