Quite early on Monday morning, as planned, I used the hire-car which I had taken home on Friday, to get to Brentford - from where, I repeated the journey of the previous week by taking a double-decker bus to Waterlooville. On this occasion, however, I was on my own.

On the way down, the office 'phoned to ask if I would be prepared - in other words, "did I have my overnight bag?'" - to travel north to meet up with another driver who was expected to be bringing a new bus down from Falkirk.

That was OK by me and they booked a hire-car for me at Waterlooville. However, since they have to allow two hours for a hire-car to be delivered, my departure north was delayed.

In the meantime, whilst I was waiting, the office 'phoned again to explain that a request had just come in for a coach to be taken from Oxford to Birmingham and, since it was literally on the route I was a bout to take, it made sense for me to be allocated the job.

Having had a cup of tea and a read of my newspaper, it would be about noon when I set off and, having been seriously delayed by some significant roadworks on the road in to Waterlooville, I left the town by a different route and enjoyed a pleasant drive along country roads for quite a while before being re-introduced to the monotony of dual-carriageways.

When driving a bus or a coach, I'm sometimes reluctant to use the SatNav device I received at Christmas (it doesn't always take into account narrow roads and low bridges). Furthermore, when I have time to research a journey, I'm a lot more comfortable using (and printing) maps from the internet. However, since I was in a car I took advantage of it (the SatNav) to locate the garage in Oxford - stopping at Warwick motorway services for something to eat on the way.

The coach was practically new - with all the bells and whistles associated with new coaches nowadays..............

............I suspect there were over 50 control switches. Evidently, however, there was a fault with the air-conditioning system and I took it to a company based near Birmingham International airport.

On this occasion, there had been time to ensure that a hire-car was waiting for me and, in order to avoid the rapidly approaching evening rush hour, I decided to take the M6 Toll road and, as a consequence, I cleared the Birmingham area quite easily.

Thereafter, although just as busy as one might expect at that time of the day, I had a comfortable drive up to the motorway services at Charnock Richard.

As I arrived there, the driver from Scotland with whom I was meant to be doing the change-over 'phoned to explain that he still hadn't left Falkirk and, soon after, the office called to say the job had actually been cancelled. However, there was a possibility of a job from Leyland on the following morning; so, they advised me to book into the nearby hotel - which I did.

It was only about 7.00 pm., at this time, and, as is often the case for me under these circumstances (having three or four hours with nothing to do at a motorway service station) I ended up have a rather restless night - not helped very much by the fact that the problems associated with a trapped nerve in my neck decided to visit me.

The following morning, a little before 9.00 am., the office 'phoned to say that the Leyland job hadn't materialised and that I should make my way back home - calling on the way south to collect one of our drivers who had been delivering a new crane from the manufacturer in Germany to a company in Walsall..........

Although the weather was attrocious for both of us (he had driven from the docks at Hull), conveniently, we arrived at Walsall within ten minutes of each other and, after a bite to eat at Hilton Park services on the M6, I dropped him at Birmingham airport to catch a flight back to Germany for another crane.

By then, the weather was improving and I had an uneventful drive back to Guildford to be re-united with my own car (we hadn't seen each other since the previous Thursday) and home.

It was pointed out to me, recently, that I hadn't made as many nominations for the Upper Nile Territory award (Blog, 09/08/2008) as may have been expected and, having accepted that this might be true, I've come to realise that there may be some reason for this to be the case.

Firstly, I'm afraid I may have become so inured to bad behaviour on the highways and byways of Great Britain that I have developed a somewhat lassier faire attitude toward the transgressions of my fellow motorists.

Secondly, in my efforts to discover what triggers the acute pain I suffer in my neck, from time to time, it has been suggested that it might be a form of stress and that a significant contributor towards that condition may be my own reaction to motorists who annoy me.

Accordingly, perhaps, a combination of these two factors may have caused me to neglect the issue. That isn't to say, however, that there aren't any candidates for the award and, to that end, I'll reveal the group of drivers who are, by far and away, the worst offenders.

I mean, of course, Centre Lane Only Tw*ts (CLOTS).

Whilst most proficient, professional, drivers would agree with this assessment, paradoxically, a significant number of CLOTS are, themselves, professional drivers - i.e. that well-known, sub-human species, the White Van Man (WVM). However, much as they annoy me, I tend to discount their behaviour in much the same way as someone else did, "Forgive them, Lord, for they know not what they do" - in other words, by and large, most of them are stupid.

The second largest group of CLOTS, I'm sorry to say - since they are my contemporaries - are the middle-aged to elderly drivers. However, whilst the WVM will generally know that he shouldn't hog the centre lane, those who learnt to drive before or around the time motorways were being introduced to the UK believe they are entitled to remain in the centre lane because it is their understanding that the inside lane is for SLOW (i.e. commercial vehicles) traffic.

Having said that, if they were to study a version of The Highway Code which was printed on something rather more up-to-date than parchment, they would realise the error of their ways - and, digressing slightly, that leads me to suggest there are strong grounds to introduce some form of re-testing (on The Highway Code, at least) for all drivers at regular intervals.

One of the reasons CLOTS are especially annoying to me is that, in common with all coach drivers, I'm limited to 100 kph (that's a little over 62 mph). Now , that means I can, quite comfortably, overtake a HGV (limited to just over 56 mph) in the inside lane. However, since a coach isn't allowed in the outside lane, I'm not permitted (by law) to overtake a CLOT who is travelling at 60 mph in the centre lane.

Unless you've experienced such a situation, you can't imagine how frustrating it can be - especially when many of the offending CLOTS will oftenbelieve they have every right ot be where they are.

If the police forces of this country paid half as much attention to this idiotic inconsideration to others as they do to drivers exceeding the speed limit, for example, there would be far less instances of 'Road Rage' on the motorway network of the UK. This problem rarely occurs on the continent because lane discipline is far more rigidly enforced - and so it should be!

There seem to have been several occurrences, recently, when I have collected a hire-car in the early evening, driven north, and stayed somewhere overnight in order to be ready for an early start on the following day.

On this occasion, there were two of us involved and, on Thursday, I collected the hire-car from Guildford at about tea time and picked up the other driver at Uxbridge underground station before heading up towards the Bradford area where we stayed at a motorway service station.

On Friday morning, we collected a couple of new buses from a factory at Cleckheaton.........

The buses needed to be taken to a Kent County Council depot near Maidstone and, considering the fact that it was a Friday, we had a remarkably smooth journey south - arriving sometime between one and two pm.

As usual, a hire car was waiting for us and, since I was expected to be using it for a job on Monday morning, I dropped the other driver off at Guildford and took the hire-car home.

It was my seventieth birthday, yesterday; so, to celebrate the importance of the occasion, my wife and I decided to go to a favourite fish and chip shop in Littlehampton (on the English Channel coast for non-UK readers) for lunch (no expense spared).

Minutes after arriving home, the office 'phoned to check that I would be available for a job today (Wednesday) - which I was. However, it would involve an early start (by my standards) and, since I stayed awake until my grandsons 'phoned me when they arrived home from school in New England, I didn't get to bed as early as I might have liked.

Nevertheless, I managed to get to Guildford in time to meet up with another driver and, in his hire-car, we battled through the early-morning rush hour to Brentford - where we collected two double-decker buses which needed to be taken to Waterlooville.

We got there at about lunch-time and I took a taxi to Havant station to catch a train back to Guildford - and to my own car for the drive home.

Before I arrived home after delivering into Epsom on Wednesday afternoon, the office had checked if I was available for work on Saturday and, as is usually the case, I was. However, although the job was actually on the Saturday, I would need to leave home on Friday to get to the collection point early on Saturday morning.

And, so it was, soon after lunch on Friday afternoon, I collected a hire-car at Guilford and headed out to join the predictably heavy traffic one expects at the start of a weekend.

Seven or eight hours later, having been delayed by traffic associated with a cricket match in the town and, having spent absolutely ages trying to find somewhere to park, I arrived at the usual hotel which the company use at Scarborough and, minutes later, I was soaking myself in a more than welcome hot bath.

There were three new single-decker buses to be collected on Saturday morning and, since the other two drivers would have to drive back north after delivering into Croydon, when the first two buses became ready, I suggested they should leave first.

I left between twenty and thirty minutes later and, despite having a break for a bite to eat, I arrived at the bus depot little more than ten minutes after they had - most probably because I am more familiar with the London area than they are.

It had been expected that I would have to make my own way back to Guildford using public transport. However, extremely generously, the other guys gave me a lift in their hire-car and I got to my own car - and home - the best part of two hours earlier than I might otherwise have done.

Sometimes (especially around Greater London) it's a lot easier to drive in the evening than during the daytime. Accordingly, when the office 'phoned on Tuesday afternoon to ask if I could take a bus I've driven a few times recently from Guildford up to Bedfordshire, I was quite happy to accept.

As usual there was a hire-car booked for me and, even though I wasn't due to leave the factory until a little after 6.00 pm., the chances were that I would expect to get home well before midnight.

However, not long before I left home, the office 'phoned again to say that they had just received a request to collect a bus near Sheffield which needed to be brought down to Epsom. So, as a consequence, instead of driving home from Millbrook, I continued north - the journey made much more bearable as I was able to listen to most of the radio commentary of Liverpool FC's European Cup win at Marseilles.

I spent the night at the lodge at the Woodall motorway service station on the M1 and arrived at the factory at about 8.20 am. on Wednesday morning to find a single-decker bus ready and waiting for me.

Stopping a couple of times on the way down (once for breakfast and to refuel the bus and another for a cup of tea and a cake), I got to the bus garage shortly before 2.00 pm. From there, I caught a bus to Epsom station and a train back to Guildford to collect my own car - arriving home nicely ahead of the evening rush hour.

Soon after I left Islington on Thursday, the office had 'phoned to say that there was a bus waiting at Guidford which needed to be taken to Croydon. However, although I was actually heading for Guildford and it wouldn't have been a long journey, it wasn't one I particuarly fancied after driving to and from Sheffield - especially in the evening rush-hour. So, I offered to do it on Friday morning.

That was OK and I got to the factory at about 8.30 am. as arranged and, although the vehicle wasn't quite ready, I still got to Croydon well before lunch-time.

Usually, when I've delivered a vehicle into Croydon, I would use the excellent tram system to get to Wimbledon - from where I would catch a train back to Guildford - and, indeed, this had been my intention on this occasion. However, the bus I had taken to get to a point where I could connect with the tram was continuing on to Sutton - from where I could also get a train to Guildford. So, I elected to stay on the bus.

In the event, the experience turned out to be a rather nice trip down memory lane because the route was identical to the first part of a route from Croydon to Brighton which I used to drive as a Greenline driver in the eighties.

Anyway, I didn't have too long to wait for a train and, with a short pause for a connection at Epsom, I got back to Guildford in time to get to the factory just as the workforce were taking advantage of their customary early finish on a Friday. Luckily, most had already gone and I wasn't unduly delayed in the rush.

For a variety of reasons, I hadn't been available for work for the first half of this week - and, knowing this, the office didn't call me until Wednesday.

They wanted me to drive up to Anston, near Sheffield, to collect a midi-bus for a local authority in Islington on Thursday and, in order for me to do this, they put a hire-car into the factory in Guildford where I usually park my own car.

However, instead of waiting until Thursday morning, I collected it on Wednesday evening on my way to Heathrow where I was meeting a American guest of my wife's employer.

By doing this, I was able to drive straight up to Sheffield from my own home. So, having stopped for a bite to eat near Towcester, I got to the factory at noon - and, by driving non-stop back down to London, I managed to deliver the bus ahead of the evening rush-hour.

Conveniently, the council depot was directly opposite the Caledonian Road tube station and I got to Waterloo main-line station just before the 1630 hrs. train to Guildford departed.

The chap sitting next to me had a Scouse accent and, being from Liverpool myself, I engaged in conversation with him. Evidently, he was a dancer and was going to Woking to perform at the first venue of a year-long tour with a production of 'The West Side Story'. As he left the train, I was tempted to wish him the customary message of good luck for the entertainment industry - but, in view of his profession, I wasn't sure if it would be entirely appropriate.

Anyway, some ninety-minutes after leaving London and having collected my own car again, in spite of delays associated with the early-evening rush-hour, I arrived home just in time to watch the early evening BBC news.

There is a suspicion in the office that I'm not too fond of very early starts and, to some extent, that's quite true. From that, it might be presumed that I'm not too keen to get out of a warm bed until I'm good and ready. That, however, isn't entirely true. The fact of the matter is that I can get up whenever I need to; what I'm not very good at is going to sleep much earlier than I'm accustomed to and, when that happens, I usually have a poor night's sleep and last night was no exception.

So, having forsaken the opportunity to watch Andy Murray qualify for the semi-final of The US Open tennis championship and, throughout the course of the night, imagined that I had barely slept at all, I wasn't in an especially good mood when I climbed out of bed at 5.00 am. this morning.

An hour or so later, I joined two of our own drivers and three others from the company in Guildford for whom we were taking five new and one used midi-buses to Lincoln.

An advantage of an early start is that we all managed to negotiate the M25 before the early-morning rush-hour had started and, after a hearty breakfast at a transport cafe on the A1 near Peterborough, we arrived at the depot in Lincoln at around 10.00 am.

After the delivery procedures for the new buses had been completed, we all got into the used one and headed back south - on this occasion travelling down the M1 because we wanted to avoid some congestion we had seen on our outward journey - and we got to Guildford early enough for me to drive home before the tea-time rush hour kicked-in.

I imagine, there may be reasons for it - but whatever they might be, I seem to be being offered an awful lot of weekend work, lately, and this one was no exception - except that, on this occasion, both days were involved.

So, quite early, on Saturday morning, I drove my own car to Guildford - where it had been arranged for one of our drivers to collect me in a hire-car; which he did - unfortunately, however, an hour later than had been planned.

The vehicles we were collecting were in Weymouth; so, we had to cope with the usual crop of caravans, charabancs, mobile-homes, motor-cyclists and weekend drivers - all of whom had been attracted to the seaside on what turned out to be an unexpectedly (compared with the rest of August) sunny day.

To add to that traffic, there was an air-show in the Bournemouth area and a steam-fair near Dorchester and, as result of the associated congestion, we didn't get to the bus garage until around noon.

The buses we were taking were rather elderly, not very quick and bound for Norwich and, having collected them, in a calculated effort to avoid the congestion we had encountered on the M27 and the A31 and A35 on the way down, we decided to aim towards Salisbury and the A303 - and that's when we discovered where the aforemantioned steam-fair was being held - and we probably didn't get to the outskirts of London any sooner than we would have done had we taken the original route.

Thereafter, we encountered assorted delays along various stretches of the M3, M25, M11 and A11 and we didn't reach Norwich until about 7.00 pm. - happy to find that a hire-car was ready and waiting for our return journey

Fortunately, by then, the traffic had (to a large extent) abated and the journey back to Guildford took significantly less time - a situation not entirely unrelated to the fact that my companion has scant regard for speed-limits - and, in the circumstance, I was quite happy to get home at all - never mind making an issue of how long (or, should I say how little) time it took. If necessary, that could be resolved on another day. One thing, however, is certain - and that is that he is a leading candidate for the Companion of the Upper Nile Territory award.

Having collected my own car at Guildford, I got home at about 10.00 pm. and, after a steaming-hot bath, it didn't take too long for me to get to sleep.

                               *******************************

On Sunday, the same driver was involved and we were required to repeat Saturday's schedule. We had arranged to meet up at Guildford at the same time. Fortunately, apart from occasional congestion along the A31 and A35, we made marginally better time down to Weymouth than we had on the previous day - due, in no small measure, to the speed at which my companion drove.

Although of the same vintage, the buses we collected were in better condition than the previous ones - not any quicker, however - and we arrived at Norwich not a lot earlier than we had done on Saturday.

On this occasion, there were two hire-cars waiting for us because the other driver and I were bound for different destinations - in my case, back to Guildford and, not being in as much hurry as seemed to have been the case yesterday, I opted for a more leisurely drive down the A140 to Ipswich and, then along the A12, A130 and the A13 to the Dartford crossing and then back to Guildford and home - arriving, surprisingly, little more than half an our later than I had done on Saturday night.