Due to work I used to ring him every day with instructions and his itinerary. He was in his mid 40's with a Northern Irish accent, for the purpose of this story he will be called Alex. I was in my early 30's with a home counties accent, for the purpose of this story i will be called Zana. At this point i can't tell you what he looked like because we had not yet met, in fact we only physically met each other a year later. One October morning, i inform Alex that his flight and hotel had been booked and could he please confirm arrival at the airport and later at the hotel. At 11:30 pm on that same day, i get a text message from Alex, it read - 'I'm in the hotel, bed is comfy', somewhat taken aback by the late message, i stared at the mobile. I was in bed myself and my other half lay next to me reading his book. I knew that a reply at that time of night would lead to no good. So i stared at the phone for what seemed like an eternity, eventually i replied with, 'i'm happy for you'.. I drove to work on Friday morning with the car already packed. Most was on the back seat because the boot was nearly full of tools and spare parts. I had arranged to use one of the office’s few parking spaces that day so the car and contents would be secure. I could leave after lunch and get a reasonable distance before it became dark. The headlights on my car were not really good enough for continuous driving after dark unless I stuck to well-lit roads. When I left, I was aiming for Winchester. The weather forecast in the afternoon edition of the newspaper wasn’t good. Winchester Cathedral, the place of his bishopric, used to have a shrine to St Swithin, patron saint of weather. Perhaps a prayer to him, in Winchester Cathedral, might improve the weather for tomorrow? At first the roads were dry and traffic was light. Once I had passed Guildford the rain started. My windscreen wipers, vacuum driven from the manifold, coped except when I had to climb a hill when they stopped dead..
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