Started from HQ at 6.30 on a rather damp overcast morning, with everything bar the kitchen sink and a suitcase that was befitting a trip to Spain for two people for a fortnight, sat nav especially programmed for the trip and off we go.

Hood down was the order of the day. This was my cunning plan to stop the back seat being filled with more of what we already had in the boot and in the case, but with just enough room for half a set of golf clubs.

Sat nav doing very well - Merthyr reached with no problem, oil pressure good, and Lol dosing off - what could be better?

Reaching mid Wales was a bit eary, sat nav looses coms, no signal on mobile and not a house in sight, how’s the AA going to find us? I ramble back to my days in Dubai, being stuck in the Desert - choice, wait for a friendly Arab to pass or burn the spare wheel - a little chuckle, the suitcase would be the first to go.

Just outside Wrexham we stopped for breakfast and with a quick check of the oil level off we go again. Now looking at the map the motorway was the way to go, being just down the road. Not so, says my trusty all singing/dancing device,  go this way. Not wishing to upset it we went with the flow. Well A roads is one thing but when we passed shops, small roundabouts and then a sort of gravel track and were looking at a large expanse of water I decided to have a look at the settings. Oh golly gosh, oops, I set it for non motorway travel. A quick reprogram and we were back on track again heading towards Manchester.

Started to rain - hood up faster than you  could recite the alphabet backwards - journey not so pleasant now, road noise, engine, wind all louder. Only one thing for it, turn up the radio.

Reach Pocklinton just past York, parked the car in the hotel car park and with a little pat on the head light, went to the bar for a couple of sandwiches and a pint - what could be better?

True to tradition, suitcase to be brought in, boot emptied and all clothes to be put on hangers. That’s strange did I lock the boot? Turned key the other way - still locked, must be wrong key, silly me I only got one. Panic sets in - the boot was well and truly shut and the heavens opened. With enough spares and tools to do every thing bar major surgery being well entombed, we called our trusty friend the AA. Is the car mobile, is the engine broken, tyre flat or are you in any danger from traffic? Well no, but I can’t open the boot was our cry, and our best clothes are in there and need to be put on hangers and more important my golf shoes. With no more emotions than a funeral director at a wedding,  “No” was the reply  “Go to your nearest garage “.

Not to be beaten and being a locksmith in a previous life, went into the village and bought a screwdriver and five hacksaw blades. Well after an hour of pulling, sawing and levering, the boot lifted about one inch, just enough to unscrew the two screws from the lock, then a matter of brute force and it was open. Back to the bar for another pint.

The evening was a great success. It was our friend's sixtieth birthday and also a reunion of several of our friends from Dubai.

After all the greetings etc , we settled down to the task in hand. Ron with his dear wife Mary flew in from Ireland and true to tradition he thinks Guinness should only be sold in Ireland and so proceeded to drink the pub dry. Not so nine pints later.

Next day we were going to have a look at the Humber Bridge but with the weather so bad we stopped at a pretty village called Beverley which had cows on the side of the road instead of sheep, had a look at a working windmill, and then drove back to the hotel.

That night went to a local pub for a meal, stayed at our friends house and played a medico game of golf in the morning, back to his house for breakfast and then on our way  to Silverdale near Morecombe the next leg of our adventures with Rosey.

Our journey took us just over the Yorkshire dales, the view was stunning with the rolling hills and the different colours of the heather, started to rain, hood up, getting the hang of this now.  

The sun reappeared, hood down, we wanted to arrive in style, went passed our friends' house, but our trusty sat/nav did a quick recalculation, twice around the village - sounds familiar - and we were there.

We spent three wonderful days in Silverdale, played a round of golf and visited the motor museum at Lakeland in Hocker Hall. We then reluctantly had to say our farewells.

Motorway driving now, feeling a bit peckish we waited until we saw a roadside beef burger van with a Welsh flag and had a huge bacon and egg butti - nice to be back home.

The heavens opened with vengeance, poor old windscreen wipers have never worked so hard. Now with familiar sites like Builth Wells, Brecon, Merthyr in no time we were back. A pat on the other headlight, kicked the suit case for breaking the boot lock and I put Rosey to bed.