Earlier this week, I did an early morning (3.00 am) airport run from South Gloucestershire, where we live, to Adge Cutler International (Bristol) Airport. While the initial act of staggering out of bed at Stupid O’Clock is a bit of an effort, I rather enjoy being out and about when pretty well no one else is. This week was no exception.
Leaving our little estate, there is virtually no activity, save the appearance of urban foxes eagerly sourcing food and hopefully not being squashed by the occasional speeding vehicle. I drive incredibly slowly these days – it’s an age thing – and what little traffic there was on the M32 shot past us at speed. It is so nice not getting stuck in endless traffic jams, waiting for what appear to be permanently red traffic lights. Getting into town of course was a far less pleasurable experience. Bus lanes out of action by Primark, an extended bus lane on the city centre and, yes, temporary lights by College Green are barely a pain in the arse in the early hours, but during the day – let’s not even go there. And I literally won’t be going there at all.
Leaving Bristol, one navigates through Hotwells, the Cumberland Basin and the maze that is Brunel Way where the young student Jack O’Sullivan disappeared after leaving a party on 6th March 2024. Tragically, not a single scrap of evidence has ever emerged of what happened to Jack and every time I drive through the area, as I did twice on my airport run, my thoughts are of poor Jack and his devastated family.
At just after 3.30 am, I’m on the open road to Adge Cutler International. Almost none of the buildings I pass have lights on, but steadily the traffic starts to build and by the time the airport appears in sight, it’s nose to tail. But to be fair, traffic is still moving at a reasonable speed. Up here, it is the rush hour, as the hordes are checking in for the mass 6.00 to 8.00 am exodus of planes to all over Europe. Drop off complete, and it’s the journey back home.
Being a slow driver – I am not in a rush these days, especially if rushing involves dying in a car crash – I find myself tail-gated most of the way back into town, until we’re back on Brunel Way when they speedsters tear past, only to meet me again at the traffic lights just down the road. All that stress for what?
On my own now, I drive as if on auto-pilot. I occasionally notice various people standing outside casinos having a smoke, young people ‘enjoying’ grease burgers and kebabs from the outlets which, at 4.00 am, remain open. But for the most part, I am concentrated on the road ahead. I am always surprised at just how busy Bristol’s city centre is when the rest of the city is sleeping. I was never an all-night person even when I had the energy. All I wanted on the home run was my bed. And, 96 minutes after I got out of bed, I was back in it again, at first unable to sleep because I had woken up a bit too much, if you know what I mean.
I don’t find Bristol scary at night, on foot, on a bus or in a car. In the last year of my professional life, I was up at 5.00 am, or even before, almost every day. There were no hordes of madmen and axe-murderers on the loose. Just ordinary people going about their ordinary lives. It was the same world as I live in. I’ve just forgotten what it’s like.
It was nice while it lasted, though, and I rather look forward to doing the early hours airport run again soon, though next time as a passenger.
