We had an okay journey in one sense - the traffic wasn't bad, and the lashing rain miraculously ceased whenever we made a pit-stop.
I had to drive with the window open at one point because I was so tired that I started to drift across lanes and even the adrenaline of nearly crashing into someone didn't seem to help keep me alert. Mum didn't let up about how cold she was feeling, sitting there in her multiple layers while I drove on wearing just a t-shirt, desperately trying to keep my eyes open until we reached a service station. I couldn't get her to understand that a few more minutes of cold might be better than major injury or death.
At the service area, Mum suggested that I had a nap, but then her short-term memory interfered with our attempt and she'd start asking me questions or tutting and sighing every 4 minutes, just as I was relaxing into a doze. I'm ashamed to say that after many repetitions of this I shouted at her, and after the 20th time I squirted my water bottle in her direction. This is emotional abuse and I'm guilty of it. I feel so wretched, such a little man. My only defence is that I was weakened by having only 3 hours sleep in the past 72 hours. Mum called me a "swine" but quietened down, and after another 20 minutes or so I got out of the car and loaded up my system with sugar. I bought her some chocolate gingers and apologised profusely, but it's never going to leave me that I did that. I'll never forgive myself and it's one of those moments that cheapens your soul in an instant and irrevocably.