To The North and back, a journey through fire and water

My sense of foreboding concerning Friday's journey to "The North" for a Sheffield Uni Open Day was more than fulfilled. Radiohead's Amnesiac proved an appropriate soundtrack. The sonic assault that is Pulk/Pull/Revolving Doors mirrored the storm that lashed my trusty Ford Focus. I accidentally ended upon the M6 toll road and then had to take the intermittently congested A38 in order to join the M1. It rained. All day. Not in sweetly gentle showers, but angry incessant torrents. 

We got very wet. Cheapo brollys bought in desperation from a shoe shop leaked, as did 'showerproof'  coats and our trainers (Jonny) and desert boots (me). Had lunch in the queue for the bus that took us from accommodation tour to the Uni (see above). In a rush to catch a Chem Eng talk (see below).  

Sheffield Uni was OK, but the presentations weren't as good as Birmingham or Nottingham. In fact one was pretty poor, with a quietly-spoken prof struggling to be heard above postgrads nosily playing a Yu-Gi-Oh! GX card game in the background. 

Returning home we faced heavy traffic. Witnessed the aftermath of what looked like a head-on collision. On the M42. How'd that happen? Emergency Services in attendance. Later, saw a car on fire on the hard shoulder. Police at the scene. Thankfully, didn't look like anyone was hurt in either incident.

Listening to Murray win his semi on the radio made it all seem a little more bearable. And we arrived home safely, if later than expected. Something to be grateful for. On the scale of human misery I don't suppose our trip to Sheffield amounted to much. Still, there is enough grief in the world and I don't propose to add to it by going there again any time soon.