...and we're off, slowly...

7th October, 1735 (that's the time, not the year) - stuck in a traffic jam on the M62 heading towards Hull to catch the ferry. There's been an accident apparently - hope no-one was hurt. The coach is great - very comfortable, lots of fridges and cupboards and tvs and cubby-holes and countless examples of novel utilisation of limited space. My bunk happens to be just my size - any smaller and I'd have been struggling. It's got curtains and a little light and a power socket. Very homely indeed. All in all it feels like we're heading off on a very expensive and elaborate caravanning holiday (except without the smell of calor gas). I'll probably have a bald spot by the end of it, though, the amount of times I've banged my head in the past hour. Les (keyboards and tour manager) spotted "Pure Pussy: Lesbian Special" among the myriad dvds that are provided for our entertainment (not to mention two hard drives packed full of movies as well). Either he has some form of porn radar (he was quite far away) or he recognised his name buried within the title and was drawn to it. Danny (guitar) has expressed an interest in watching it. There's only six of us on the bus today so it feels very luxurious. Best not get too used to it - as of tomorrow evening there'll be fourteen.