Jimmy. Julie and Jeopardy! Grahams’ Travels DAY SEVEN

Now where was I?

Oh yes Perth. If you’ve been following my posts, you’ll know, a place I’d reached via rather nefarious means.

Leaving the dignified comfort of a hotel, I strolled fairly confidently into the cold Scottish air, With a phone in hand, Google maps led me the four miles to the M90: A place that was actually just over a mile from where I’d started. In drive mode, google maps informed me I was doing a pathetic 3 miles an hour.

And so was the case on the road approaching the M90.To be fair, unlike on the M5 South where everyone is travelling in the same direction, the M90 offered various alternatives: People going to Edinburgh or perhaps turning off on the M8, It was a big ask to attract someone travelling on the M9 who were then, via the A720, heading for the A1.

Some two hours later, a car literally screeched to a halt. It was Jimmy!

The moment I got in the car I sensed  that this particular stage of my journey could well be intense. I was wrong. It was frenetic and absolutely terrifying!

Getting in the car, Jimmy politely turned the volume of  his music down to a more acceptable ear shattering 90 decibels and before I could get into my seat belt, he sped off at such a rate that the G-force had me pinned against the seat.

Jimmy was a manic individual who spoke in a deep Scottish brogue.

I asked him where he was headed, his response came in the form illegible grunts.

I was now on the M9 heading for Edinburgh. This stretch of the M9 had two lanes and a restriction of 50 miles an hour. With the music blaring, Jimmy, in between taking large gulps of Red Bull, grunting words with syllables I’d now given up on trying to decipher and making video calls on his phone asking me to perform to camera, I watched the speedometer slowly approach 100 miles an hour. I needed to get out of here.

Having travelled some 15 miles or so I noticed a service station sign stating 2 miles ahead; Kinross service station. I shouted; ‘I need a wee Jimmy‘. Even though, my demanding bladder wasn’t currently in need of attention, I just needed to get out of here. Approaching the turn off at 80 miles an hour, I thought he hadn’t understood me. He had! Being thrown around like a rally driver navigator, Jimmy turned off the motorway before finally screeching to a halt at Kinross Service station.

I took a selfie with me, displaying the sheer delight at just being alive and then Jimmy, smiling, grunting and beeping vigorously, screeched off. Phew!

So, here I was. Kinross Service station: A small and seemingly friendly place. Buying a coffee dressed in Top Hat and Tails, people were intrigued, friendly, some wanting photos. But it was Midday; time to start hitching.

On the way up, Service stations proved to be the most profitable place to hitch. I believe I never waited more than 15 minutes for a lift at a services.

So, here I was, midday, my thumb a bit sketchy but as eager as it ever was, we stood on the exit of the friendly Kinross service station. Optimistic.

Over four hours later, with lots of well wishers, some taking photos, and numerous people winding down their window to pointlessly state; “ I’m sorry were going north“, I had yet to attain a ride. (other than the promissory one from a driver who said; If you’re still here tomorrow i’ll give you a lift). Methinks, once again, I may have a problem.

After another fruitless half hour, I decided to ring my lady, Pip, for succour. Sadly, I couldn’t. The text message on my phone informed me that I’d  run out of credit. I suddenly felt alone; Isolated.

Walking across the car park to the service station I managed to find someone who was willing to give her a ring. She rang me back and after 20 minutes of her trying and failing to renew my credit, I asked her to book me a room at the Travel Lodge. Pip phoned me back to tell me it was booked. Hurrah. Accommodation and no doubt WIFI. Yes, I was more than ready for food, sleep, to put credit on my phone and to wake up refreshed; ready for a new and hopefully more rewarding day.

I strolled over to the Travel lodge and approached reception. I was met by a kindly face belonging to Julie. I informed her I was booked in for the night. Julie, on checking her system, politely informed that I wasn’t. So it was back to the Services to scrounge yet another phone call to Pip. She duly rang me back and I explained the situation. She was loathe to inform me that she’d booked the wrong date, but she did!

Not being able to amend the booking online, Pip asked me to take her to the receptionist, so, via my phone, I handed her over to Julie. Julie gave her a number to call and voila! Sorted. I was booked in. Before going up to my room, I noticed the sign on the wall stating WIFI was available for £3 for 30 minutes. I only needed a few minutes of internet access to renew my credit. Hi Julie. “can I buy 30 minutes internet access.” Julie informed me that internet access has to be paid for online when booking the room. Bugger! I trundled up to my room feeling a little more than deflated. I collapsed on the bed. My melt down was interrupted with a knock on the door. It was Julie who had managed to get me brief but invaluable access to WIFI; enough time to re-credit my phone. I was elated! (This would by no means the last time the wonderfully receptive receptionist, Julie, would come to my rescue.)

My culinary choice was limited: Burger King, Greggs or a sandwich from M & S. I plumped for a cheese and onion pasty and a coffee from Greggs. I went to pay but my card was declined so, thinking it was a case of inserting my card and pin, after doing so, I was aghast to see the word declined screeching at me from the screen again. At that very moment my now functional phone rang. It was Pip, informing me that she’d had a call from Natwest telling her that my account had been blocked due to suspected fraudulent activity!