h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I was lying in bed last night, as you do, when an astoundingly witty journal entry came to me. It was a stream of conciousness type of thing, with loads of leaps of faith/logic and some political comment. It was, to put it mildly, a doozy. I was on track for becoming the Samuel Pepys of my generation and had even begun to consider where I might get one of those curly Carolinian wigs.
But lo, 'tis the morning, the birds twitter, there was the tiniest dusting of snow, not enough to write your name in ("Look everybody John Hancock is writing his name in the snow!") but enough to give a pleasant view as I wandered to the pool, and my mind has no memory at all of what this wonderful journal was to contain. No memory of the soaring wit, the jubilant puns or the crass shoehorning of my thoughts on the potential war in Iraq have remained. Nay, not even a sausage.
Which is a pity, partly because I really fancied that wig, but mostly because I could really enjoy a sausage sandwich right about now. A nice bit of Lorne Sausage, some brown sauce and a fresh slice of plain bread. Ooo, and a cup of tomato soup. Yes, now that would be nice.
I've always had a thing for soup and sandwiches since wee when my parents would take me to Murrayfield to watch the rugby. We'd sit in the car park, actually some spare practise pitches behind the West Stand, and eat our egg and tomato sandwiches with a hot cup of soup. It really felt like decadence, eating in the car. Of course, it was as nothing to those in their Range Rovers with three course dinners including roast turkey and champagne, but it always made the day special, which is not a charge that could often be levelled at Scots rugby.
In a shocking return to something vaguely relevant this reminds me that myself and the little red haired girl are going to Murrayfield in a couple of weeks for the Scotland v. Ireland game. It'll not be the same without the car, but perhaps I can sneak some home made sandwiches and some soup along with me to eat in the car park beforehand, sat on the grass, back to a goalpost and ears full of the lilt of drunken Irishmen inappropriately attired for the conditions.
This is something I often notice at rugby matches, people not wearing enough clothing. I mean, come on, you are sitting outside, on a small plastic seat for over two hours with a wind howling in from the North Sea and you think a kilt, a rugby shirt and a "See you Jimmy" bunnet will suffice? Numpties! I'll be there in hats, gloves, scarves, the largest coat I can find, three jumpers, my thermal longjohns and possibly with hot water bottle stuffed up my front, depending on whither or not I get that warming cup of soup ahead of time. Its February for heavens sake. Wear a jumper!
Anyhoo, it has now become lunchtime, I still have no clue as to what this great journal entry was that I visualised last night and no one in their right mind will have made it past the bit about the Carolinian wig anyway so I think I shall sign off and troop off through Farnborough, with its artic wind that for some strange reason only seems to blow through the town centre, to acquire myself a spot of lunch. Now which filling, that is a question.

*imagines Munchkin in Carolinian wig*

Very fetching.

The first time H went to Twickers, not as cold as Murrayfield, but still a mite parky, he had to buy a hat to keep his ears warm. Needless to say it had a Tudor rose emblazoned on it and cost 4 times more than something from Moffats and I won't be seen out with him wearing it!

BAGSHOT

Bagshot to you too!
used to go to gigs at the Fighting Cocks...


See we all got past the wig bit

Seems a tad harsh to the bag, but okay.
If I can find it I have a nice warm hat I acquired free by drinking too much Guiness which should suffice for the job.

Would the red-haired girl mistake the bulge of the hot water bottle for something else, I wonder? Good choice of attire!

B4

Through three jumpers, I doubt I'd spot anything

Hmmm, *tries to think of some sort of 'princess & pea' parallel, but fails & gives up!*

I dreamed that I went to Edinburgh for a meet and met Babel and Toccata and Munchkin and others, and then took the M3 through the Lake District on my way back to New Mexico. Is this possible?

Other than the M3 bit, maybe. Its the M6 through the Lake District, but that makes you half right.

As long as you stopped off at an airport and got on a plane to new Mexico (or have an amphibeous car)

Hmmm... There is this one little breach in the space-time continuum along the M3 line that would get you back to NM, USA, but you have to disembark by crawling into a berth in the seventh car back, and it has to be between two of the stops. I took that same route when trying to return to Mid-MO, USA, in one of my dreams, and the drop-down menu gave me the options of several US states and cities, so it was rather easy. I hope that's been helpful.

B4

That would be very useful information, if the M3 was a train line. Sadly it is a Motorway. Not, admitedly, obvious I suppose, so we will let you away with it this once.

I rather like the M3, not as much as the A3, which is a nicely built road, lovely cambers but the other traffic gets in the way.

Returning from Pilates in Shamley Green (the Red Lion is a nice pub, BTW) I was heading up the A25 to Newlands Corner, towards Guildford, with nothing in front of me, the sun was shining, I turned the heating up, opened the sunroof and put my foot down, just perfect. Or should that be 'perfick'

I get a bit like Toad when the conditions are just right for a bit of real driving.

Poop Poop!

Uh...I knew that! Sure. Um...yeah.

B4 (not to be confused with the A4 from Guildford to Betelgeuse)

I know the A4 well too, it goes sort of near Guildford, the Earthly home of Ford Prefect, of course

The A4 doesn't have as nice cambers as the A3. Nor the nise wide lanes of Interstates.

But are you aware that heading west from the north of Guildford, past Worplesden and the little village of Normandy (I always found the fact this has a British Legion Club strangely apt) there is a house by the side of the road called Betelgeuse. I feel DNA must have been near here when the whole Guildford/Betelgeuse idea came to him.

I am awestruck...

B4

Having been to Worplesden frequently as No2 son had a best buddy living there, Community Nursing days and as backroute to the M3/4/Woking/Bagshot , I have never noticed aforementioned house

But then I'm usually travelling too fast to read house names. Will try harder next time..........to read house names, not travel faster.


Footnote: the new MG with all the bells and whistle has 900bhp, more than Schumaker's Ferrari. We shall be calling by the MG showroom at the weekend just to check this out.

Oooooooooooo
The Betelgeuse house is set back from the road but has a sign by the roadside which is one of those white curved affairs. I used to get driven past there, which is where I got the chance to rubberneck.

?
Dr. M(unchkin): If you're ever in the vicinity of Guildford, would you swing by Betelgeuse and get a snapshot for me? I'd B4ever indebted to you.

B4