Augustine, Dante, Bunyan, Jonathan Edwards to name only four. They all used their descriptive powers to create unforgettable images of Hell. A whole genre of fiction describes various manifestations of Hell on Earth. But to my knowledge no one has written an entire novel, or a terrifying sermon, or a poetic masterpiece of epic proportions on one of the most vivid and diabolically convincing contemporary images of life rendered futile, of hope intentionally made sterile, of soul corroding and mind dissolving frustration, of that concatenation of circumstance and coincidence of misfortune, of that collaboration of evil purpose and collective ignoring of consequence, that is the M5 and M6, on a Friday afternoon, as it lies before the Scottish pilgrim journeying from Malvern to the celestial city of Glasgow - 334 miles away.
Because fellow travellers and pilgrims together, that's what I did yesterday from 3.00pm arriving home around 11.p.m. The exquisitely moderated anguish of travelling miles in first and second gear, viewing thousands of traffic cones – (are they self-replicating these things?!) - is now enhanced by overhead messages informing you well ahead of time of the six mile tailback, the serial congestion at consecutive junctions. So you turn on Radio 2 for the travel update from Sally Travel and find that the roads around the M5 and M6 are likewise congested – beginning to sound like a motorway system with a serious chest infection and the antibiotics are not working. So no escape routes or less stressful diversions. It isn't any comfort to know that once you are past Birmingham and Machester there is a further 6 mile tailback in both directions south of Lancaster, result of an earlier accident and long term roadworks with closed lanes. And yes I did consider trains and planes but serial meetings in different parts of the country at different times of the week meant nothing came close to working.
Nevertheless. And I mean nevertheless in the biblical and theological sense of a truth that reconfigures reality, that offers an alternative worldview, a happening or utterance that, despite present circumstances, nevertheless construes existence in a new way and points towards hopefulness. So. Nevertheless. That eight hour journey had its moments of revelation. Somewhere between Birmingham and Manchester, across miles of hazy autumn dusk, spread one of the most glorious sunsets I've ever seen. For ten minutes liquid gold cooled across the clouds in a slowly worked filigree of light and shadow, woven in various shades and tones of yellow, orange, and red. This happened as I was listening to Brahms' violin concerto just as it closed the heart wrenching slow movement and the finale took off. It's hard to sit on the M5 and M6 fuming and thinking black diabolic thoughts about hobgoblins and foul fiends in the shape of traffic cones, when an impromptu performance of a Creation makeover, with musical accompaniment, is put on gratuitously for anyone prepared to see and recover a sense of perspective, and be grateful for life, beauty, love, Sheila, Victoria Plums (I bought a box at the M&S in the Services), Brahms, God, and a home to travel to – and even Sally on Radio 2 whose job is to read that litany of despair every half hour, to drivers, the modern pilgrims, and to do so every blessed day. Yes, every blessed day. Sunset is a stressbuster – not the best strapline for God's creative extravagance but worked for me.
The sunset photograph can be found at Trucking Photographs – where there are other sunsets captured along the motorway – hopefully taken when the trucks were stationary….. Thanks to them though, for the free use of their images.
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