Sunday 2 March 1986

…Went on a bridge that looked down on the M1.
I counted 103 [vehicles] in five minutes going south.
Dad counted 74 in five minutes going north…

The M1 was about five minutes’ drive from our house. This bridge would have been somewhere between junctions 22 and 23.

Growing up, the M1 came to symbolise a formidable overture to a family holiday. It was always the first road we would use en route to our annual week away somewhere in the UK every July. It would also be the first leg of a journey to see far-flung (or so it felt at the time) relatives. For these reasons, and because of its size and noise, I think I found the M1, as a concept, quite intimidating. Confronting it from above and seeing it from the perspective of an onlooker rather than a passenger would have been quite a challenge. I would have been just as much awed as intrigued.

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