By choosing to have a girlfriend/partner/lady friend (or whatever you are supposed to call her when you are 44 ) who lives near Stockbridge, I have not only discovered a new part of the world in recent years, I also experience the thrill of narrowly escaping death every time I return home to Basingstoke on possibly the shortest slip road leading on to a dual carriageway this country has to offer, my latest attempt being just a few days ago. You should all give it a go, because unless you are driving home at 4.00am courtesy of your girlfriend/partner/lady friend who has decided to enter the world snoring championships, you are almost  guaranteed an adrenalin rush to keep you buzzing for the rest of the day.

My latest brush with death came thanks to a Co-Operative van hurtling up behind me from the A34 south bound as a James Irlam juggernaught fizzed along the inside lane of the A303 with no opportunity to give way as he had the small matter of a double decker bus overtaking him at a speed approximately o.5 miles an hour faster than him on the outside lane. I literally had nowhere to go, except the crematorium that is situated (rather conveniently I think) just a couple of miles up the road. As I stopped, I witnessed in my rear view mirror the glorious sight of blue smoke bellowing from the wheels of the Co-Op van behind me that also featured the face of a man in in a state of utter panic, a face that suggested he knew he was about to crush me in to oblivion before facing a manslaughter charge and a four stretch in Winchester nick.

Bullington Cross: Hotspot for Adrenalin Lovers

I thought about jumping out, but it was too late, so I just accelerated instead, thinking that I might just squeeze under the James Irlam lorry and somehow miss the bus. I’ve always wanted a soft top anyway, every cloud and all that. What followed was what seemed an age  of blasting horns and flashing lights before I found myself going northbound on the A303 at about 70mph with a rather irate man in a Land Rover about three inches behind me screaming something that resembled “YOU FUCKING CUNT!” How I ended up there, I really can’t explain, though the bus and the James Irlam truck were behind me and the Co-Op van was nowhere to been seen. I presume he must have either passed out at the junction or he was submerged in a crop of rapeseed somewhere, to be honest, I didn’t really care.

I always thought the M3/M27 junction where you go west to go east and east to go west was a vintage bit of inept road design, however, it pales in to total insignificance compared to this farcical bit of civil engineering that can only have been built by some pissed up Paddy just off the Dublin ferry and full to the brim with Guinness. It is a major catastrophe waiting to happen. Can I suggest to any of you taking this route to follow the back road through Norton and along to Micheldever Station where you can join a marginally longer slip road another junction along. You will have to be alert to someone turning right out of Popham airfield and staving in to you head on, but even that is a far lower risk than the carnage awaiting you on the A34/A303, believe me.

Either that, or don’t live in Basingstoke when you have a girlfriend/partner/lady friend living in Broughton.