Racing the clock

'Right,' Husband said, 'we've got to leave here by 6.30 at the latest so dinner had better be ready by 6.'

I'd volunteered to cook dinner in Devon before we headed home and, as anyone in my family will tell you, my cooking-to-a-time skills are lacking somewhat. So at 6.15 we sat down to dinner and at 6.40 we were in Minni and setting off.

Now the reason for the rush is that the M4 closes between junctions 24 and 28 from 8 pm each night and we didn't fancy a trip around Newport so I was keeping a close eye on the ticking clock as we skedoodled along.

We managed to avoid too close an encounter with Tyrannosaurus Rex along the way ...
and the sun was setting as we crossed the bridge home into Wales.
We'd passed junction 23 and the cones were out when a traffic flash on the radio reminded us - as if we needed reminding - that the M4 was closing at junction 24 in a few moments. Husband couldn't even put his foot down as we were in a 50 mph zone and already in a queue of cars.

At 7.59 precisely we slipped past the junction slip road: yay, we'd made it! In spite of me.