Date Trip

Can’t fit in date night? Got a long journey coming up? Why not combine the two and make it a Date Trip? 

Date Trip

We’re always saying we need to spend more time together. We were due to visit my in laws during half term – a tasty five-hour trip, and that’s with no stops. It was like a great plan coming together! Five-plus hours of each other’s undivided company. Five hours with no escape. 

Date Trip Essentials

A car. With no petrol in it (important).

As many kids as you own.

An alluring outfit – one that attracts all manner of stains and deposits as you handle a constant conveyor belt of snacks, rubbish and half-full smoothie cartons. Plus several coats for when the driver decides it is Too Hot and whacks the blower on. 

Unlimited snacks but limited drinks (wee stops will spoil the flow. But you will need the loo just as the baby finally drops off into the Sleep That Has To Last Till We Get There).

Lots and lots of traffic and roadworks.

Rain. As heavy as possible.

All the electronic devices you own, all running out of charge.

A truly terrible audiobook (we had The Magic Faraway Tree. Awful.).

A Relationship in Microcosm

So we set off. 330 miles ahead of us. 330 miles over which to “reignite romance”. And sure enough, as the journey progressed, it was like the unfolding of our story so far:

Heady Happiness. So glad we had finally got together. No more popping back into the house.

The First Argument. “I thought you might have filled up yesterday.” “I thought you might have packed your own pants.”

The Make-Up. “I got you a Double Decker when I went to the loo.” “I’ve wiped the smoothie off your seat.”

The Proposal. Trent or Stafford services?

The Marriage. We walk together up the aisle of WHSmith, our kids scattering stolen pick’n’mix and freebies from the CBeebies magazine like confetti.

The Kids. “Will you please stop arguing or daddy will crash the car!” “Yes, there’s still four hours to go. Yes, that’s a long time. 240 minutes.” “Who wants some Maltesers?!”

The Humdrum. “Oh, by the way – did you pay the water?” “When’s parent’s evening again?” “Did you put my suit in?” “Can we retire to the coast? Pleease?”

The Big Row. “I am reaching into the boot with my bum in the windscreen to get the snacks that I told you to put by my feet, will you not jerk the car like that. And you never buy me flowers any more.”

The Simmer. We both stare moodily out of our respective windows.

The Row Nostalgia. “Your bum in the windscreen” *sniggers*. 

The Nostalgia. “Remember that road trip on honeymoon when you had the runs?”

The Renewal of Vows. *Husband presses something in the palm of my hand* “I thought you’d eaten all the Mini Eggs?” Our melted-chocolate paws rest together briefly on the gear-stick. “I saved the last ones for you.”

So far, so smushy. There’s just one teeny, tiny snag to this model. And I’m sure you’ve spotted it. No booze. Nope, even though I wasn’t going to be driving, I’m not quite mean enough (yet!) to swig from a “7Up” bottle while sitting next to him. Anyway, the wee stops would be ridiculous.  

A date trip may be your idea of hell. But it’s your little hell. And if you can pass the M6 test, sober and child-locked-in, then who needs date nights? You’re already there.