by Paul Cude
Chapter 15: Fawking Hell!!!!!
It was raining, blowing a gale and even in the cab of his lorry his breath was freezing as he exhaled. But by goodness it was great to be back in England, even on this bleak November day. His truck trundled over the bumps in the ramp as he departed the ferry at Dover. Up until now, his journey had taken over three weeks, and even though he had done the same trip at least a dozen times before, this one had been by far the most arduous. The Siberian weather had been unseasonably bad, even by Russian standards, which was really saying something. It was the first time on all his trips that he'd been thankful for the military style escort that he'd been given, as the guards in the convoy accompanying him had had to dig his truck out on more than one occasion during the trek across Russia. Heading out of Dover on the A20, he flicked the radio on to his favourite station, Radio 2, and looked forward to spending some quality time with his wife and two children. All he had to do now was negotiate the M20,M25, M3 and A303 and then he would be back at the Cropptech site in Salisbridge. With any luck he would be back there for six o'clock, an hour or so to unload his valuable cargo, and then he would be home in time to read his children a bedtime story. He couldn't wait.