A Long Car Trip

Well, we have made it to Whitstable, via a very long and somewhat strange Uber trip. Which I will get to in a moment.

First, can you believe that I actually went to work yesterday morning? There were a couple of things nagging at me. I wasn't able to finish the re-shelving on Wednesday because a holiday party (unknown to us until the last minute) was starting in the library at 3 p.m. Being an organizationally obsessed librarian, I couldn't stand the thought of all those books just lying around for a couple of weeks and then having to deal with them upon my return. I wanted to take down our holiday decorations. And one of my co-workers has a plant in her windowless office and I suspected she'd forgotten to move it to a windowed room so it could get some light during our absence (when her office lights would obviously be off). I had to take care of that stuff.

And I did. The books are back on the shelf, the decorations are in their boxes, the plant is by the window. Also, a student left a bag in the library containing some Christmas food in plastic containers, and that would have been disgusting by January, so I brought it home and cleaned the containers out. I'll put it in the lost & found and if no one collects it, free food storage containers for me!

Thus, my conscience assuaged, I was ready to embark on our crazy journey. With the car arriving at 3 p.m., we packed in the afternoon -- including Dave's fruit basket -- and were ready when Jean-Claude, our Congolese driver, rolled up right on time. Olga climbed into the back seat with us and we were off.

I was a bit apprehensive about having to converse with a driver for the two hours or so we'd be in the car, but it turned out Jean-Claude was on the phone to his brother in Africa, and they chatted for a good half of the trip. And then, when he hung up, Jean-Claude cranked Christmas tunes by the likes of Jessie J, Celine Dion, Pentatonix and Gwen Stefani. (Some guy named Teddy Swims sings a mean version of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.") Clearly Jean-Claude did not expect conversation from us, which was a relief.

His SatNav directed him through Highgate and Hackney to the Blackwall Tunnel, which meant sitting in a lot of city traffic. Olga was intrigued by the views, but once the sun went down, she settled into an awkward sleeping position with her hind end on the back seat, her front legs on the floor and her head resting on the center console between the front seats. She did indeed fall asleep that way.

At some point, rocketing along the A2 between Gravesend and Rochester, I turned to Dave and said, "This is a very surreal trip. We have a pineapple in the trunk!"

We got to our cabin after dark and got in with no trouble. As you can see, it's a very cute, quirky place with a glass wall that looks out on a deck. Beyond that, which you can't see (and neither have we, really), is the beach and the North Sea.

We ordered fish & chips from the local chippy, I made a martini and Olga explored the property inside and out with her acute canine olfactory skills. (In other words she sniffed everything.) I was pretty smart about the packing this time, I think, bringing some things like a martini glass and my favorite coffee mug that make my routines more comfortable.

It's still dark as I write this, but I'm eager to see our view when the sun comes up!