Radio ga-ga

I drove down from Manc to London this afternoon. I don’t drive often – maybe once or twice a month – and I’ve come to wonder upon something. What happens to the radio in the middle of the country on a weekend?  Firstly, why does everyone suddenly think we all want to hear rubbish anecdotes about what a strangers nan did last week? But more importantly, why do the midlands suddenly turn into Nashville? Nothing but “my wife stole my dog and shot me in the foot, then crapped on my hat” for hours on end. why? I will (secretly) admit to singing-along-a-Dolly every now and then, but does it have to go on for the whole of Sunday?

I also had the misfortune today of driving along the M40 as Silverstone started throwing out. It was raining, there was heavy spray on the road and I do believe i was the only person with any lights on. Also, apparently, everyone on the road was Lewis Hamilton. Of course, if you’re Lewis, and you’re on a race track, undertaking is the done thing, and indicating is frowned upon. Not so on a busy motorway. Really.

Scary.