For 9 days I’ve been away on a road trip with my son, Rogan.
I daresay I’ll be writing about various aspects of the trip over the coming days, but for several people who frequent this corner of the Internet, the most important thing will be the fact we met up with Pat, the extraordinary and wonderful blogger from Pat’s Past Imperfect.
I’ve met relatively few other bloggers who I didn’t know before they started blogging. In fact, Dr Maroon is the only one who leaps to mind. And he still owes me a lunch. And he resolutely refused to give me any kind of information about himself that might possibly reveal his real identity. He gave me a first name to use that may or may not have been his, and seemed to be constantly scanning the restaurant and me for possible hidden recording devices. Though I think the false nose and glasses he insisted on wearing actually drew more attention than he meant them to...
Pat, on the other hand, exhibited no such paranoia. She is warm, friendly and wonderful – everything and more you would expect from reading her blog.
While waiting for Pat outside Mr Micawber’s café in Minehead, we spotted her from a wee way off. As she approached - elegant, attractive and with a dazzling smile - I became distinctly aware of my own travel-worn state – creased shirt, untrimmed jowls and in desperate need of a shower. Mr Odorous Crumpled at your service, Ma’am...
We’d detoured on our journey from South Devon up to Chesterfield to meet up with Pat. Initially I’d thought we would probably only have time for a coffee, maybe a scone. But before long we were enjoying lunch too, and even then, when we really had to leave, it felt it was over all too soon.
Back at the car park, we got out the cameras. I was going to say it was like having my photo taken with a film star, but actually it was far more than that – it was like having my photo taken with a long lost friend.
I often feel shattered after blethering with someone for a couple of hours, but oddly enough I felt energised from our meeting with Pat. The remaining drive to Chesterfield was much less tiring than expected; Rogan and I joked and laughed and the mood was light, despite the torrential downpours through the 2nd half of the journey.
I’m not a religious man: I believe in neither God nor reincarnation. But sometimes, just sometimes, we can meet someone for the first time, and it feels like we’ve known each other for millennia.
Mr Odorous Crumpled meets ex-model and superblogger